Maddox
I need a freaking doctor.
Something is seriously wrong with my head. Did I hit it or something? Possible brain damage from birth
that didn’t show up until now? I don’t know what is happening to me, but I’m acting weird!
I don’t date.
I don’t do relationships.
I don’t want a WAG, a partner, or any romance in my life.
Most girls are bloodsuckers and only out after your money. I know that, and I stay clear of the other
gender.
I should focus on the game, focus on the goddamn football, and not fall for any distractions. And girls are
fucking distractions!
Yes, I know this better than anyone.
So why am I as hard as a rock in the shower while thinking about kissing Michelle fucking
Henriksson?????!!!!!
Why her?
WHY!
I punch the wall and groan at the pain. “FUCK!!!”
“Will you please keep it down?!” Jason’s voice comes from the other side of the wall because, let’s face
it, we live in misery. Paper-thin walls and no fucking privacy. The frathouse is a goddamn joke and
sometimes a running parody.
I groan, and Jason sighs. “Maddox, I’ve said it once and I will say it again. Keep it down, will you? I’m
trying to focus here.”
I punch the wall. “No, I’m going through something!”
“Just wank it out already, amigo!” Jason shouts back. “You’ve been saying ‘Michelle’ over and over
again, groaning and then not finishing your business. Just rub one out.”
This fucking linebacker! I swear I will kill him, fucking kill him!
It doesn’t matter that we are best friends—Jason is dead to me!
“Shut up, Deluca!” I growl back at the perverted idiot. “And stop listening through the wall like a creep!”
“I have a stomach ache… I can’t leave the toilet even if I wanted to. There is no choice but to listen to
your pathetic voice.”
“This idiot…” I mutter to myself. “I can’t do it now, thanks to you!”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re listening!”
“Go into your room and lock the door.”
“I will, but not to masturbate!”
“Sure, amigo… And I will not look up Michelle Henriksson’s online profile while you’re not masturbating.”
Jesus fucking Christ!
Why does Jason always have to be so goddamn annoying?! I could murder him and bury his body in the
garden!
“DO NOT FUCKING LOOK HER UP!”
“Why, you shy or something, Maddox? Everyone wants to be with our heartbreaker quarterback, but you
turn everyone down. I want to know your type, Maddox. Learn what makes you hard in the shower.”
Hard in the shower?!
My type?!
“Michelle is not my type!”
“Si, I don’t know about that… You have been moaning her name for about forty minutes now, and I’m
getting more and more convinced to name my own daughter Michelle…”
“Jason…” I hiss. “I. Will. Murder. You. In. Your. Sleep.”
“Empty threats… Empty threats…”
“I’m being serious!”
“Oh, Michelle Henriksson is actually pretty cute… Rosy cheeks, yeah? Very delicate and small too. Ha-
ha. You like that, Maddox? Who would have known—the guy actually has taste.”
“I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU, DELUCA!”
Jason burst out laughing, and I grunt in annoyance. Some best friend he is—the dude needs to have his
head evaluated if he thinks it’s okay to listen to me masturbate AND look up my inspiration.
Jesus fucking Christ, I’m even admitting it myself.
There are way hotter girls than Michelle, yet all I see is her doe-eyes, sweet smile, and delicate hands.
Am I out of my damn mind?!
“GAH, I hate myself!”
I kick the wall and wrap myself in a towel. My cock is still painfully hard, and it’s because I’m at odds with
myself.
I can’t finish myself off.
No.
I have to resist it!
It feels wrong to touch myself while thinking about Michelle Henriksson of all freaking people. She
doesn’t even like me! That little thing is terrified of me, and not even a little! She couldn’t sit still when I
looked at her!
I angrily enter my room and throw myself down on my bed. My arm hangs down to the floor, and I sigh.
“I shouldn’t text her… I know better than that… I do… But…”
I pick up my phone, breathing hard while staring at the screen.
This is so weird…
What am I doing?
I have only texted girls to tell them my address before a hookup. Other than that, I don’t text with girls. I
don’t call them either. Neither do I date, and yet I’m already typing a message to Michelle.
Me: Don’t stand me up tomorrow, Henriksson.
I watch the message turn to “seen” and feel like puking when I realize I’m actually smiling. FUCKING
SMILING while texting a girl. Seriously, where did my balls go?
Michelle: You inserted your own number into my phone?
Who wouldn’t? I can’t risk Michelle standing me up again. I had to put in my number there… Not
because I like her or anything, but to show male dominance! Yes!
There is no other reason!
Me: Yes.
Michelle: And your earlier words, is that a threat?
A threat?
Is she serious?
Does Michelle honestly think everything I do is to scare other people? Like, sure, I think it’s fun, but…
Me: Not a threat.
Michelle: You promise?
Me: Yes. Have a good night, Michelle.
I patiently wait for her response like a total sissy. It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and I’m fucking
whipped—after one kiss and her feeling up my muscles like I was hot shit.
I rake my fingers through my wet hair. “I’m such a loser…”
My phone vibrates, and my eyes find my screen like a hawk. I’ve never moved this fast in my entire life.
I unlock my screen and…
Michelle: Good night, Maddox.
My lips curl into this stupid smile, and then I smack myself straight in the face to knock it off.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I whisper with growing panic. “I need to see a therapist or
something…”
I’m actually worried about my health. My heart is fluttering, and I swear that isn’t normal. Am I dying?”
Cancer?
I get underneath the covers and get comfortable. There is a new message from the pixie girl herself.
What could she want…
I click on the message with a weird feeling in my chest. My heart is thumping, which is so freaking weird.
Michelle: Thank you for driving me home today. I appreciate it. The rain came when you left, and I would
have been drenched. It was very thoughtful of you.
That familiar flutter travels through me again, yet I accept it.
I might act like a hardass most of the time, but… I knew it was going to rain after checking the weather
forecast. That’s why I offered to drive the tiny one home.
But I’m not usually thoughtful, and Michelle better not expect me to act like it either…
I quickly type back a message.
Me: You’re welcome.
I sigh heavily while tucking my phone underneath my pillow. “What is it with this girl that just makes me
do stupid shit… Fuck… She does weird things to my head…”
Another groan leave my lips. I’m about to have a headache. I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I
couldn’t possibly be falling in love, right? Pfft. I’m Maddox. I’m cold as a rock, and the last thing this could
be is the beginning of something.
Romance is for pussies.
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