I can't f**king take my eyes off the sophomore.
My eyes always seem to find her in the darkness of the club. She's sitting there, amidst her friend totally oblivious to the stares she's getting and all I can think about is taking her back home with me and f**king her thoroughly. Lord knows that I need a good f**k tonight. With a body like that, I'm not going to pass up the opportunity. Not even the flexible gymnasts can stop me.
"Come on Wilson." Sawyer shouts from the end of the booth. He's got a blonde girl next to him-she's pretty hot, I must agree. But I currently have a thing against girls with that hair colour which is why I pay no attention to her as she bats her eyes lashes at me suggestively. "Stop being a p*ssy and play the damn game."
"Dude, shut the f*ck up." Bradley snaps before downing the shot of Bacardi in his glass. His eyes are wild and bloodshot which can only mean his little break to the toilet a few minutes ago featured some white powders.
"Don't f**k up Bradley." Wesley, one of the starting fives on the team, adds as we all watch Bradley intently while he attempts to take his shot. "we can't let this motherfucker win."
"Stop being a f**king sore loser." I roll my eyes. Wesley has been in a pissy mood since I beat his ass at billiards twice tonight and now the f*cker won't stop being team Bradley and it's pissing me off. In fact, everyone's team Bradley apart from Ryan and Sawyer and that's because this game wouldn't have happened if not for Ryan and Sawyer decided not to play.
Sawyer being the little f**kboy that he is had walked out on us to go f*ck some chick in his car and now he's back with yet another chick clinging on to his arm.
"We all know who's going to win, and it ain't you Charlie." Wesley laughs at his own dead joke, as Dante walks in, four bottles of beers in his hand. He hands me one with a mocking smile and I roll my eyes before snatching it off him.
I pop the lid open with my teeth "Yeah we'll see about that." I mutter to no one in particular before taking a long chug of the chilled liquid.
Wesley flips me off and I flip him right back before turning my attention to the game.
This has been a tradition since freshman year. The guys and I play a pool tournament and the looser pays for all the shit that's consumed during our night out. Other times I wouldn't mind loosing, but tonight, I want to see the face on this prick's face when I take his pool king crown and the sophomore.
Yeah, f**king Bradley went on to raise the stakes a bit. Ryan had opened his big mouth to announce that I've been eyeing the same f**king girl all night when I can get any other girl. I've seen a couple of girls looking at me from the dance floor and not to talk of the gymnastic team hanging around our VIP booth but I want Lorraine. Not just because of how tight her dress is hugging her body but because Bradley has his f**king coked up eyes set on her. He's always wanted the same things as me so I wasn't surprised when he challenged me to this game.
I wasn't going to play because of Bradley here but I came to have a good time after a hard week of practicing and I'm determined to do just that. Even if it means playing his games. I know one of us is walking away with her and his last name isn't Wilson.
She's my game tonight. And I'd be damned if I let Bradley take her.
Back when we were friends we always made sure we didn't end up as competitors but now under the dimly lit chandelier of the club, I want nothing more than to beat him at his own game.
There's only the 8 ball left and the atmosphere is f**king tense as we wait for him to take his shot. He's got a pretty good shot from where I'm standing and if he manages to pocket the ball then I'm fucked.
A slight smirk graces my face when Bradley's finger slips as he takes his shot. I walk to my end of the table, chalking my cue as I do this before getting into position behind the cue ball. The best thing to do while shooting is to get as low to the table as possible, your chin only a few inches from the felt. You can accurately line up your shots the closer your eyes are to the surface of the table.
Bradley doesn't walk away from the table but stands in the line of my shot instead, a tactic he always uses to distract his opponents.
The guy's got a f**king problem.
I focus on the eight ball in front of me, ignoring his malicious gaze.
I shoot and wait for the cue ball to sink the eight ball into the pocket at the corner of the table before straightening my back. "Take that f**kers." I flip Wesley, Dante and Grayson off before turning to hi-five a grinning Sawyer.
"And a new king is born." Ryan smiles from where he's seating. He's finally stopped eating the face of the girl straddling him. She looks pissed.
"Wait. He didn't call the shot." Grayson, one of the best shooting guard we have on the team and Bradley's occasional lapdog calls, his dark eyes meeting mine as his bushy brows rises "you're supposed to call the shot before sinking an 8ball it's like the number one rule."
"Dude what the f**k are you talking about?" Wesley asks, confusion evident in his voice. I spot Bradley walking to a poster by the wall. And that's when I realise that the little f**ker didn't slip. He missed on purpose because he knew there's no way I'd miss my shot. And since we didn't talk about the rules from the start of the game, he managed to sneak one up one me.
"Well the club's rules states that you don't necessarily have to call the shot before sinking the object balls but you most definitely call the shot when it comes to the 8 ball." He explains, reading out the rules.
Sawyer walks to the poster to read it for himself "It's a slop." He shakes his head before rolling his eyes. "But since it's the 8ball it means you lost."
F**k. F*ck.
"Are you f*cking kidding?" Ryan asks unbelievably.
My jaw hardens and I try to control the impulse I'm feeling to use my fists to wipe the smirk off Bradley's face. I know he wants a reaction out of me but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. So I plaster on a fake smile which somehow seems to piss him off.
"Rules are rules." I wanna break your f*cking face against the wall "drinks on me and he gets the girl."
"What girl?" Sawyer's eyes darts between Bradley and I as he throws us the question.
"They bet on that Lorraine chick. You know the one that's friends with Elle Sparrows from our Political Science class." Dante explains, hopping off the high table he was sitting on to grab a cue stick from the wall. Dante wasn't impressed by the whole thing especially since he's had a thing for that Elle Chick for a while now but he knew not to talk me out of it. He knows how much I want to fuck Bradley up. He's not going to get in the way of that. "I think it's f*cked up."
"Wow. So y'all decided to have some fun without me? No fair." I ignore Sawyer's comment and start walking towards the stairs that lead down to the regular side of the club. I need to get the fuck out of here before I do something I'll very much regret later. "Where are you going?"
"To the bar." I lie. I'm getting out of here. Bradley can pay for their drinks for all I care. I'm finding a decent girl to take with me though. Someone needs to fulfil the fantasies I had in my head when I thought I'd win. Even if that someone is not the brunette.
Just as I march to the stairs that lead to the regular section of the club, Bradley shouts over the loud music so that every single person in the room can hear.
"Oh come on Charlie, you know we can always share. It's not going to be the first time."
All I see is red, and before I can talk myself out of it, I turn back around and swing my arm, letting my fist collide with his jaw. Bradley drops to the floor, the punch hitting him by surprise. Everything happened so quick-the punch, my burst of anger, the boys jumping in between us before Bradley can retaliate.
He's cradling his jaw as he struggles to get away from Dante and Grayson's strong hold, his eyes wild. I storm towards him, my eyes livid "Next time you say my f*cking name, I'll f*cking kill you."
I turn to leave, ignoring Bradley's shouts. I'm f*cking fuming as I jog down the stairs, my heart pounding so hard that I think it's going to explode. I walk over to the bar, needing some real booze in my system. I hate that I need alcohol right now but it's better than the other stuff.
"Can I get the strongest shit you have?" I shout to the female bartender, placing some cash on the counter. My eyes search the dance floor for a good looking girl with f*ck me eyes and just as I spot one, I see the last person I ever want to see. "F*cking great." I mutter to myself before turning back to the bartender who has now placed my drink in front of me despite the protest of the others who had been on the line. I throw her a thankful smile before downing the drink in one go. I relish in the burn, my eyes watering as I ask her for a beer.
"Charlie Murtaugh?" A middle-aged looking guy who looks like he just escaped a bad day at the office is smiling unbelievably at me "The Bruins?"
I shake my head. "Wrong guy."
I'm not in the mood for a diehard college basketball fan at the moment.
"You look like the point-guard that plays for the Bruins."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
"My bad." he apologises before walking away.
F*cking hate this shit.
"Charlie?"
F**ck, what is it now?
When I turn around again, I'm shocked to see the sophomore standing behind me, her hands readjusting the black leather jacket sitting on her shoulders. My eyes search for Alexis and I realise she's ran off. Probably to go f*ck Bradley again, I will not be surprised. I return my gaze to the girl in front of me.
She is truly a beauty. The short, black satin dress she's wearing is showing off all of her curves, including the outline of her small tits. Her nipples are hard as rock and I imagine what it would feel like to have my tongue wrapped around it. I feel an uncomfortable tightness in my jeans.
"It's Lorraine." It's either she's playing hard to get or she's totally oblivious to the fact that I was just checking her out but she doesn't respond to me the way I'd hoped-the way other girls would have responded. Either way I take solace in the fact that Bradley would never get her. She doesn't look like the type to f**k around. Not with guys like me and Bradley. "From The Daily Bruins?"
"I know who you are." I reply, turning to face her while resting on the bar counter "wish I could say the same for you, though."
She purses her lips slightly before speaking "Look, I wanna apology for what happened-" she giggles at her own grammatical blunder before shaking her head to sober up. It's like she's having a conversation in her head which I find annoying "I want an apology for the way you spoke to me yesterday. Maybe then I'll consider writing your article."
I can't hold the splutter of laughter that escapes me. "Apologise?" I ask, slightly intrigued that this little human thinks she can possibly get an apology out of me "for what?"
"For calling me a no-name intern."
"Well, Isn't that what you are Lindsey?" She opens her mouth to reply but stops short when she realises I called her the wrong name. Her eyes change into slits, her lips forming into a pout that makes her look more like a cute kitten than an angry woman. She's undoubtedly drunk.
"You can stop pretending to not know my name now. It's not cute."
I scowl "I'm not trying to be cute." I can't believe I wanted to f*ck her. She's hot until she opens that damn mouth of hers. Bradley can have her for all I care.
I sigh, not wanting to deal with this bullshit any further. I just want to satisfy the itch in my pants and since Bradley already gets to have dibs on this drunk chick, I need to grab another and get the hell out of here, ASAP.
I turn around to grab my beer and take a quick swig.
"So look," She starts again, getting my attention. Great, drunkie's still here. "I was wondering if you wanted to schedule an interview? Maybe, I don't know, tomorrow morning. Like around 8 ish..." her voice slowly fades towards the end of the question when she sights the are you f*cking kidding me look on my face "no?"
"I already told you, you can't write my article."
Her face creases into a confused frown, her blue eyes turning sad "And why's that?"
"You're too young."
"That's not ageist at all."
"I don't care what it is, I don't want you and that's final."
She folds her hands under her small chest "You are an asshole."
"I've been called worse, princess."
"You've been called princess?"
"The f**k? No." I roll my eyes "I'm calling you a princess."
"I'm a queen, okay. You're a princess because you're an ass. They've both got two ss at the back."
"You said that already." I'm starting to get irritated as f**k with her big mouth "run along now, I'm f*cking busy."
Before I can fully turn around again to enjoy my beer, I'm stopped by the sound of her wailing. I turn to face her and see that she has burst into tears.
Ok, what the actual f**ck? What's wrong with this chick?
"Oh my God, I'm such a pendeja!" She wails dramatically catching the attention of the few people next to us "Why would you do this to me? Why would you rip out my whole entire life. You don't know how hard I worked my ass off for that internship and now you're just not going to do the interview to get me fired? I thought you were better than that-"
"Oh come on, give the girl the damn interview and stop being a d*ck." A random guy sitting at the bar says, looking from me to her.
It feels like the bartenders and the whole goddamn club are giving me weird looks. The two girls who were grinding against each other a while ago are now throwing dagger glares at me like I've done something wrong to her. I groan, gritting my teeth at the cunning little thing in front of me.
She totally did that on purpose because there's no single tear on her face.
"Ok, fine. I'll give you your fucking interview." I give in and she smiles. A big f*ck off smile that brightens up her whole face "Starbucks tomorrow at 8 o'clock."