Sacked

by Tabatha Vargo

“No,” I said, sitting up to see his face. “It’s my mess. I’ll clean it up. He’s just being a jerk right now.”

  And he was.

  He was too busy assuming that I was sleeping with Jacob. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I get it. Seeing me standing there looking completely roughed up with Jacob’s clothes on couldn’t have looked good. It didn’t help much when Jacob came into the room freshly showered, but it was crazy to even think it. Jacob was my fucking cousin. We were from the South, but cousin loving wasn’t something that went down in my world.

  However, Sawyer didn’t know Jacob and I were family, which was totally my fault. If I’d just been honest with him from the start about Jacob, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. Of course, if I’d been honest from the start, I never would have gotten to know Sawyer and I never would have fallen for him.

  In a way, my not telling the truth was good and bad. Good because I’d gotten to see a totally different side to Sawyer—a side I’d fallen in love with, but bad because he was now driving back to Camden and thinking he’d just caught me cheating with his worst enemy.

  Things were bad.

  It was the worst possible outcome to the truth showing its ugly face.

  I was screwed, and this time it didn’t feel so epic.

  The campus was empty over the weekend, everyone having gone home for Thanksgiving break. I stayed at my place alone and ate frozen pizza and Ramen. I couldn’t bring myself to go home and see my dad. I couldn’t stomach going back to the place where another woman I’d loved had also left me. Home wasn’t home without my mom. Every room in our house echoed her loss.

  I couldn’t deal with that shit.

  Not with everything moving through my brain at that moment.

  Not with my heart feeling as though it was seconds from exploding.

  When I finally charged my phone and turned it on, I had twelve text messages and five voicemails. I read and listened to the ones from the guys on the team and Coach but deleted the ones from Gretchen without even listening or reading them. I had nothing to say to her, and I didn’t even want to hear her stupid fucking excuses.

  I was done.

  So fucking done.

  I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest—like the fires of hell were burning through my stomach. I couldn’t take the hurt. I was a pussy when it came to emotional pain. Physical pain wasn’t shit compared to the emotional bullshit. With physical pain, you popped a pill and waited for the pain to recede. There was no magic pill for a busted heart.

  Trust me.

  I Googled that shit.

  The old Sawyer Reed stepped forward, tempting me with the ease of not caring, and I let go and let him take over. Not caring was easier. Not caring had always worked for me. The minute I started to give a shit, things began to fall apart. If the new way didn’t work, which it obviously didn’t, reverting to the old way of things would put my world back together.

  Slowly, I shut down my emotions, each one fighting tooth and nail to hold on, and I blocked Gretchen from my mind. I made a foolproof plan to move on—one that consisted of lots of sex and alcohol. I wasn’t about to sit around and dwell on her. I had a team to think about. I had games to play and a future in the NFL to work toward. The rest could go away.

  Days went by, and Gretchen and her cheating ass dissolved from my mind like a bad hangover. Already, I was starting to feel like myself again.

  Fuck love.

  Fuck it in the ass with a spiked dildo.

  I couldn’t even believe I was considering that I might have been in love with her.

  What a fucking joke.

  Love was for pussy-whipped momma’s boys and chicks.

  I was none of those things.

  Running a towel over my wet hair, I pulled on my clothes and put on my shoes. I was going to continue to block it all out, and I had the perfect distraction waiting for a piece of me. I had a date with a certain dark-haired chick who’d been begging for my cock since the Halloween party, and I was about to give her what she wanted.

  A few beers and letting my dick sink in some pink would surely get rid of the sick feeling I had in my gut. I needed a good buzz and nice long cock rub. Christine promised all of those things every time she looked at me.

  I stuffed my wallet in my back pocket, making sure I had a rubber love glove tucked inside, and then I grabbed my truck keys and headed out the door.

  Thankfully, Christine hadn’t gone home for the holiday either, which meant I was getting laid tonight. Nothing was going to stop that from happening. I was going to shut it all out, let my dick do all my thinking, and I was going to fuck Christine harder than she’d ever been fucked in her life. I wasn’t about to let the cheating bitch Gretchen ruin that for me.

  Fuck her.

  No, actually, let Jacob fuck her because I sure as hell wasn’t anymore.

  No wonder she’d fought against me for so long. No wonder she’d gotten so pissed when I talked shit about him. My only question was who was getting the sloppy seconds, me or Jacob?

  Then again, none of that shit mattered anymore. I no longer gave a fuck what Gretchen was doing or who she was doing it with.

  At least that was what I repeated to myself on the drive over to Christine’s.

  I’d spent an entire semester chasing after her ass—an entire semester stressing and laying on the romantic bullshit—and all my work paid off. I’d gotten exactly what I wanted, which meant it was time to move the hell on.

  So I started flipping my way through my contact list and ignored every phone call or text message Gretchen sent me.

  No reading.

  No listening.

  Just deleting.

  “Where’s your head tonight, Sawyer?” Christine asked.

  God bless her—she was working hard—pumping her fist up and down on my deflated dick, but it wasn’t happening. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t get it up.

  I brushed her hand to the side and fisted my stick. I pumped it, aggravation thick in my stomach, but there was no response. I even fingered my balls with my eyes closed and pictured my favorite redheaded porn star, but there was nothing. Not even a twitch of pleasure.

  Christine tried.

  Hell, I tried.

  But it wasn’t happening.

  Every time I’d close my eyes, I’d see Gretchen and the good feelings would die, leaving me lying there with a limp dick and a shredded heart.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I think I had too much to drink.”

  It was a lie.

  I was sober as a bone.

  Ha.

  Bone.

  Boner.

  Fuck you very much, Cock.

  Christine nodded and snuggled into my side. Even with my floppy dick, she stayed with me. We spent the night together in bed watching Netflix and eating pizza.

  The next morning, I felt like shit. I hadn’t expected to feel so guilty about spending time with another woman, but the remorse was suffocating. I didn’t like feeling as if I was doing something wrong. Especially not since I was sure Gretchen was in Columbia fucking Jacob at that exact moment.

  Thinking about Jacob and Gretchen together gave me another push. I rolled over and ran my hand over Christine’s hip. I was going to give it another shot, which meant I was going to try to get lost in her. It should have been easy. She was hot, with long legs and thick thighs. Her long, brown hair looked good on my pillow and her big, brown eyes were expressive when I touched her.

  Staring into her eyes kept me from closing mine and picturing Gretchen beneath me. Still, nothing was happening below the waist. I was starting to feel like less of a man. I’d always had such wonderful control of my manbeast. Getting it hard was easy. Keeping it hard was even easier. I had stamina for hours usually, but I couldn’t put that stamina to use if my rod wasn’t going to cooperate.

  “What’s wrong?” She pouted.

  “Nothing.” Rolling off her, I pulled her close. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
>
  This was a first for me, outside of Gretchen, of course.

  No fucking.

  Just snuggling.

  I was positive Christine was going to leave thinking I was in love with her, when really, I was using her to take Gretchen’s place.

  She kissed the side of my neck and sucked. “I’m not going to give up on you.”

  I chuckled when she climbed on top of me, her dripping center rubbing against me. I kept my eyes on her—hoping something would harden beneath my boxers—praying we’d have lift off.

  “Don’t think, just feel,” she whispered, rolling her hips and biting her bottom lip.

  I dug my fingers into her hips as she rubbed herself against me and assisted her movements. It felt good, but it was nothing like being with Gretchen.

  Closing my eyes, the ache I’d been blocking out expanded inside my chest. It pressed against the inside of my ribs and took my breath away. I was done lying to myself. I missed Gretchen. She hurt me more than I’d ever been hurt before, but I missed her.

  It was a seriously fucked-up situation.

  And that was how I spent my holiday weekend—wrapped in Christine while I tried to get a hard-on and feeling like shit about it the entire time. I’d never been so happy to see my boys when they came back to campus on Sunday. We planned to hit Jim’s for wings and beers as soon as they got unpacked.

  “Are you going to invite me to go to Jim’s with you and the boys?” Christine asked.

  I’d just spent the weekend trying to get it up for her. I could have at least taken the time to get her off, but I hadn’t even done that. Taking her along to hang out was the least I could.

  I walked into the Jim’s with Christine’s hand in mine. I wasn’t a handholding guy, except with Gretchen. It felt wrong holding Christine’s hand, but I did it. I wasn’t sure why, but I think it was because things felt so off without Gretchen. If I was holding someone’s hand, at least then it was something kind of familiar. At least then, there was something holding me to the Earth.

  The guys frowned when I slid into the booth, Christine sliding in after me. Questions filled their eyes and I knew they wanted to ask me where Gretchen was. I hadn’t told them anything about catching her cheating. It was embarrassing, and I couldn’t stand opening myself up like that, especially considering who she was cheating with.

  I ordered my usual wings and fries and frowned when Christine ordered a grilled chicken salad. That was not football food. She wasn’t supposed to order that. She was supposed to be into wings and sweet tea. Not fucking salads and water.

  When the waitress brought us our food, I slid the basket of wings her way.

  “Want some?” I asked, hoping she would pick up a barbecue wing and bite into it.

  It was stupid.

  It was just fucking wings.

  But it mattered.

  Everything mattered.

  “No, thanks. I’m not much of a wing person. Plus, I don’t like spicy things.”

  It was a blow.

  She didn’t eat fucking wings.

  Gretchen loved wings.

  Sighing to myself, I let it go.

  I devoured my wings and watched a replayed game with the guys. We already knew who was going to win, but still watching Alabama beat the shit out of Georgia was exciting. We were really into it, but Christine wasn’t. She kept sighing at my side as she ate her salad. Every now and again, her fork would scrape her plate and it raked my nerves. Come to think of it, she was kind of annoying all-around.

  I looked over at her, her boredom obvious as she chewed her rabbit food. She wasn’t even looking at the game.

  “Having fun?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she lied, plastering a big, fake smile on her face. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “I'll be right back. I'm going to go to the ladies room.”

  As she excused herself, I went back to finishing up the last of my wings. Even though I could see from their expression they wanted to, the guys didn’t ask any questions about Gretchen.

  I bit into my last wing, the spicy goodness rolling over my tongue when I noticed Landon across the table looking behind me. His eyes widened and quickly he looked down at this plate.

  Looking over my shoulder, my eyes clashed with Gretchen’s as she made her way toward our table. My spine stiffened, knowing that shit was about to hit the fan. I didn’t want the guys to know the situation. They didn’t need to know that I’d gotten played.

  She was in a burgundy sundress—a jean jacket covered her arms and a scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. Her boots tapped across the floor as she walked toward me, a solemn look on her face. She looked tired. She looked sad. But she was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. Seeing her was like being kicked in the balls all over again.

  She wasn’t mine anymore.

  Not that she ever really was.

  When she got to the side of the table, I turned my head and pretended she wasn’t there.

  “Hey, guys,” she said.

  The guys looked up, smiled, and muttered their hellos. It was all really fucking awkward.

  “Hey, Baby Girl, where you been?” Derrick asked.

  I wanted to kick him in his teeth. He wasn’t supposed to be making her feel welcomed. I didn’t want her there, but then again, they didn’t know the situation.

  “Just hanging around.” She slid into the booth next to me and laid her hand on mine. My fingers shook beneath hers and heat rushed over me. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  I slid my hand from beneath hers and grabbed my beer. Taking a big swig, I cracked my neck and set the bottle down with a thump.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  Turning my attention back to the game, I hoped she’d get the point and leave.

  She didn’t.

  Her nearness was making me all fucked-up. I could feel her body heat against my side. I could smell her sweet honeysuckle scent. I wasn’t going to make it. I was going to cave, and then I’d really be a pussy boy. She’d cheated on me, and it hurt, but I was seconds away from falling to my knees for her.

  It was then that Christine came back to the table.

  “Um … you’re in my seat,” she said from above us.

  Hurt filled my chest.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  I should have enjoyed the fact I was getting revenge on Gretchen. She was catching me on a date at our place with another girl just as I’d caught her with another guy. I should have been pleased with the outcome, but I wasn’t.

  I felt her eyes on the side of my face, but I couldn’t look her way. I knew if I saw her sad green eyes looking back at me, I’d do whatever she wanted, and I couldn’t let that happen. It was over. I was done with her and everything that involved her.

  Leaning close to me, her sweet scent moved over me. I wanted to hold her to me. I wanted to reach out, pull her to me, and lose myself in her, but I couldn’t.

  Instead, I closed my eyes and pretended I wasn’t there.

  “Just so you know,” she whispered in my ear. “I’m not fucking Jacob. He’s my cousin.”

  Without another word to me, she slid from the booth.

  “See y’all around,” she said to the guys.

  And then she was leaving. Her boots tapping with the rhythm of her walk as she left me. I felt her loss in the pit of my stomach, and I suddenly felt like every wing I’d consumed was trying to fly out of me.

  She was lying.

  Why did she have to lie all the fucking time?

  I knew most of Jacob’s family. I’d met them over the years before we became enemies. I would have remembered her. I definitely would have remembered her.

  But that wasn’t the point.

  Even if she was Jacob’s cousin, did I really want to involve myself with someone so close to him?

  Did I love her enough for that?

  The word love bounced around in my head, shocking my brain like a game of Pinball and making me feel like I was about to
hurl.

  I didn’t love Gretchen.

  She was sex.

  That was all.

  Nothing more.

  The rest of the night was a blur of robotic movements on my part. Instead of spending it with Christine, I drank like a fish getting drunk off my ass and ignoring her completely. It wasn’t long before she got annoyed with me and left me there. I rode home with Derrick with my head out the window so I didn’t throw up in his Mustang.

  Once we were home, I went upstairs, shedding my clothes on the stairs as I went, and I passed out naked with Gretchen’s name on my lips.

  Jacob and I went home for Thanksgiving. We ate at Aunt Irene’s place, Daddy sitting beside me in his wheelchair as we said grace and spent family time together. We spent the time trying to pretend that everything was fine, when, in reality, everything was a fucking mess.

  Jacob was sick, and he was trying to hide that. Every few minutes, he’d excuse himself to go to the bathroom because the food was making him nauseated, and I had to lie and tell everyone he had a stomach bug.

  I was heartbroken, and I was trying to hide that. And like Jacob, every bite I took made me feel sick to my stomach. Everything choked me as it went down and nothing had any flavor. Nothing was right. The world around me had lost if color.

  I missed Sawyer so much it hurt.

  How was it possible to miss someone you’d only known for a few months?

  It didn’t make any sense to me. It was not as if Sawyer had occupied a massive part of my life, and yet, I felt like my freaking arm was missing or something.

  My heart was broken. There was a deep pain settling into my chest, and I had a strange breathless feeling I couldn’t seem to shake. I felt like I couldn’t breathe without him, and once I was back on campus, I found myself looking for him any time I left my place. I just wanted a glance, which made me feel like a crazy ex-girlfriend.

  I remembered my old high school friends describing this feeling every time they broke up with their boyfriend of two weeks. I remembered thinking they were totally full of shit, but as it turns out, they weren’t fucking around. Breakups hurt like a bitch. Especially, when just one big misunderstanding was keeping you from the person you loved.