KICK IT | JENLISA

34

Lisa

"You need to cut that." she whined. "You look like a homeless person."

"Nope." I took a swig of my beer, tossing back a long chug. "Playoff hair. It's wolf-cut. Very trendy right now."

"I don't like it." A smack of skin hit my thighs. I grunted under the heart-shaped ass compressing my balls. The blonde offered no hint that she was affected, wrinkling her upturned nose. "Isn't it ticklish?"

Her sugary, strawberry hair overwhelmed the preferable scent of my sweet, malty lager. "You have strong opinions." I snorted. "Do you know who you're sitting on?"

"Bless your heart." Two blue eyes pierced over her shoulder at me. "Of course I do. Strong opinions? You should know better than to mess with a California girl, Lisa Manoban."

I fucked Kendall three times that night, and she never left my bed until three weeks ago. Attending Baylor on a dance scholarship, she walked up to me during that party, plopped on my lap, and declared herself my girlfriend. I was too drunk, or stupid, not to argue, but we connected the next morning over breakfast.

Now that she wasn't here, I missed the idea of sharing my house with someone else. She was by my side, my rock for every milestone, until... until she decided that she didn't want to be anymore.

Reminders of her lingered within every inch of my house, leaving me a stranger within my damn walls. I threw out her girly throw pillows and half-burned candles but packed a box of things I assumed she wanted and shipped it to her parents' house. Photos were hard to remove, but I replaced them with pictures of my parents and old football ones that I pulled out of storage. Despite her physical absence, Kendall haunted me most with resurfaced memories.

"We never go out anymore." she whined. "I want to try Southern Comforts. Kylie said they have a mechanical bull."

"Go then." I suggested, wrapping my hands around her ass and tucking my fingers into her back pockets. "Call Kylie."

"What's the point of having a hot-ass lover if I can't show you off on the dance floor?" Her throat vibrated under my lips, kissing and sucking the soft skin.

"Or..." I whispered between soft pink marks, squeezing my fingers into her ass. "You can stay here and ride me."

Palming the bathroom counters, I hung my head low under the weight of my mistakes. Our life revolved around me, my career. Kendall never complained when I put up resistance, but I took her pacification for happiness. I was so fucking wrong. Her parting note showed I'd lost her trust and support before the accident. Unable to read it or throw it away, I settled for stuffing it in a bathroom cabinet drawer.

"Lisa, can't you transfer to Los Angeles? You've been riding Houston's bench for two years."

"No."

Taking Jackson's suggestion, I took a long look in the mirror. Grey circles pressed under my swollen eyelids. My complexion was blotchy and uneven, now I almost do look like a homeless person. My lips are chapped for some reason, what the hell. My girlfriend of 4 years dumped me and my entire body seems to be shutting down? Come on, just cut me some slack... if there's even a God listening in on my pathetic plea.

One day at a time. Day by day, I busied myself between a few charity events and physical therapy with Bambam. I swam in my pool, mowed the yard, finished my 'Kendall hates' Netflix queue, and smoked meat so much that the neighbours called in the fire department. I even called my parents. Considering they called Kendall the 'Gold Digger.' their reaction wasn't surprising.

"I'm sorry, Lisa." Mom's flat voice came through crystal clear. "It's for the best."

Wow. What an endorsement. Before now, they both had been supportive or so I thought.

"Plenty of fish, Lisa." By the echo in Dad's voice, he called out from the other side of the room.

Mom placed my call on speaker phone so both of them joined in. Why did they do that every time I called, including six trial buttons to find the speaker option?

Since I was two songs away from dancing naked around the house with my extra free time, I looked forward to Jennie showing up. Courtesy of Jackson, I texted her to ask what shit I needed to buy. She sent a list of specific items with Amazon links.

My first memory of Jennie included Kendall when Jackson's parents invited my family to a draft day party. I spent most of the night on fried nerves, picking my idol Warren Kim's brain for stories and advice. He was shorter in person but carried the room's attention, even though the party they organised was for me. 'We didn't have that shit when I played,' was his most common answer, but I soaked up every word. The man whose posters hung on my walls as a kid preached my new religion.

Draft day was one of the happiest moments of my life, the pure, exhilarating joy of being drafted, and Kendall wasted no time celebrating it.

Her lips pressed against mine, she dragged me upstairs into a random bedroom. Her hands tugged my pants to my ankles, eyes pooling with heated want. "Lisa, I need your cock in my mouth." she moaned, taking me out. "I wanna suck the first overall pick until she floods my throat."

My hips bucked as she stroked up and down, heating the skin. Her soft, wet tongue flicks teased me to fully stiff.

When a cough erupted, I shrunk faster than an ice bath plunge.

Curled up in the corner of a bed, under dim lighting, a thin girl with black hair in a messy ponytail, round glasses, and a book on her lap stared at us. She sat with parted lips and wide eyes, swallowed up by sweatpants. "Umm..." she squeaked and pointed at the door. "Get the fuck out."

Not my proudest moment and neither were any exchanges with Jennie since. All were compelled by the fact I hadn't recognised her all this time. Fuck, she was Jackson's sister and Warren's daughter. Jennie Kim. How that spitfire personality flew under my radar for six whole years, I had no fucking clue. I had short-flash memories of her and a near meltdown in Jackson's office after he told me.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" I threw up my hands. "Your sister!?"