2. Callum

2

CALLUM

I remember the first time I got a hangover at seventeen. That had been a delightful discovery that I was entirely unprepared for, and I had vowed never to touch a drop of alcohol again.

Of course, that had been one giant pile of horseshit and lasted all of forty-eight hours before I dove back into my teenage debauchery. I soon learned where the line in the sand was with drinking to avoid that particular shitshow, and I was pretty great at riding it without going over.

Last night however, I pole-vaulted so far over that line that Google Maps couldn't help me find my way back to it. That meant I woke up with a fucking dentist drill going off in my skull and a throat that felt like I'd swallowed a Brillo pad. I was disoriented and barely made it to my toilet before I threw up all evidence of the night before.

It was coming back to me in flashes as my mind fought to piece it together. I remembered the dancing, Griffin, the strip poker, and then there was the failed hookup and…

That's when my brain came screeching to a halt as I remembered why my glorious plan to fuck all my problems away had met a tragic end. I knew in the far recesses of my brain that what really derailed my evening was the excess intake of booze that had made consent for both of us sketchy, but my lingering anger seemed set on blaming it on that purple-eyed menace .

Seriously, who the fuck has purple eyes? I must have been seeing things. Did I take drugs last night? Nah, I would have remembered that…wouldn't I? Ugh, who the fuck cares. I feel like I'm dying…

I dragged myself into the shower, leaving it cold in the hopes that the temperature would wake up my muddled brain a bit. Spoiler alert, it didn't but at least I was clean and no longer smelled like an extra on The Walking Dead .

When I walked out to the kitchen, I heard faint grunts and squeaks from a mattress coming from Griffin's room. I smirked to myself thinking how I was glad at least one of us got laid last night. And again this morning evidently.

The smell of fresh ground Arabica wafted around me and my mouth watered even as my stomach tried to rebel. I'd had enough hangovers to know that coffee was pretty much the opposite of what my body needed, but fuck if I was giving up my morning jolt. Call me a masochist, but coffee was life.

As I waited for the pot to brew, I tossed back two Advil and chased it with a full bottle of water to hopefully take care of the pounding in my temple.

The noises from the bedroom reached a crescendo and I shamelessly eavesdropped on the finale. I couldn't resist the free entertainment since I knew Griffin had a knack for picking out the screamers. Something told me I was right on the money just before a high pitched squeal met a loud, drawn out groan that I'm sure could wake the neighbors.

I quietly sipped my coffee and waited to see who the prize was behind door number one. Five minutes later, Griff's door opened and a cute little blonde came traipsing out, freshly fucked and disheveled.

Her eyes went wide when she saw me, embarrassment clear on her face as she realized someone had been present to witness their morning adventure.

“Oh, hi. I didn't…uh, know Griffin had a roommate,” she stammered. I just raised my mug in acknowledgment and headed for the couch. Griffin stepped out of the room sporting black joggers, a smug smile and nothing else. His dark auburn hair was scraggly and sticking up at all angles, but for some reason it worked for him.

“Sup, Hawk. How you feeling?” Griff rumbled as he swaggered over to the coffee pot. The girl stayed frozen to the spot, eyes ping- ponging between us. “You alright over there, cutie?” he chortled when he noticed she hadn't moved.

“I'm fine!” She squeaked, cheeks flushing with color. “I'm gonna…head out. Thanks for last night, Griff.” She shuffled over to him to kiss him on the cheek. Griffin at the last second turned his head and captured her lips in a hard kiss. She let out a little moan before he pulled back, leaving her a little unsteady as she left the apartment.

“Text me if you want a sequel!” Griffin called out before the door shut behind her. Coffee cup in hand, he plopped down right next to me on the couch, almost sending hot coffee over the edge of my own mug.

I growled at him, which only made him chuckle. “I see you're still working on that concept of personal space we talked about, huh?” I muttered, leaning against the arm of the couch to get a little distance.

“Eh, I'm a work in progress. Dude, what happened to you last night? Last I saw, you and that chick were headed up to smash nasties, but then she came down all hot and bothered saying you couldn't get it up. You get whiskey dick or something?” Griff taunted, shoving me in the shoulder.

“Fuck off, man. We were both too plastered for anything to happen. Plus we were interrupted by some dickwad and it killed the vibe,” I griped, remembering that nerdy twig who ran his mouth with me and ticked me off.

“Ouch. The only things that should kill a vibe are dead batteries…or so my ex told me,” Griff offered sympathetically. “So you just came home alone and passed out?”

“After killing half a bottle of Smirnoff I had lying around, pretty much. Not one of my finest choices and trust me, I'm fucking paying for it,” I complained as my head throbbed on cue.

“Shit, that sucks. Well, Kenji's coming over later to play some GTA. You wanna join?”

“If I live that long…” I mumbled while Griffin simply laughed at my misfortune.

Hours later when my headache had subsided to only a dull thud, I was crushing Kenji and Griff in a street race, my fingers flying over the controller in my hand. They had incorrectly assumed my hangover would give them an advantage for winning. Amateurs, both of them.

Griffin was cursing up a storm while Kenji was quiet in his usual brooding intensity. He was also on the Lacrosse team and a midfielder like me. Out of all my teammates, Kenji and I got along the best. He was chill, funny, and an amazing athlete. I was actually a bit shocked when Coach named me captain over him. It wasn't like I didn't work hard to earn that shit, but still. Kenji was incredible at what he did and everyone respected him, but he was only ever supportive of my captaincy.

“Don't you fucking do it! Don't do it! DAMN IT!” Griffin yelled, jumping off the couch as my character raced across the line in a photo finish with his.

“Unfuckingbelievable,” Kenji mumbled before tossing his controller over his shoulder on the couch.

I did nothing to hide my arrogant smile as Griffin continued his tirade and Kenji sprawled out in defeat next to me. “I warned y'all not to underestimate me.”

“Hangover, my ass,” Griff muttered petulantly. “I'm never playing with you again, fucker. Also you're paying for dinner!”

I laughed at his temper tantrum, always finding it entertaining to annoy the shit out of him when I could. My phone lit up next to me, and I reached over to decline the call until I saw Coach's name flash on the screen.

My stomach twisted into knots thinking about why he'd be calling me on a Saturday night. I didn't want to get too in my head over it though. I was captain. He probably wanted to check in with me after these first few weeks of school.

I took a deep breath before answering it. “Hey Coach, what's going on?”

“Hawkins, I need to see you in my office tomorrow. Can you be here by 9am?” Coach demanded gruffly. Dread flooded my nervous system, but I shoved it down.

“Uh, yes sir. No problem. Everything okay?” I asked cautiously.

“We'll talk tomorrow. Don't be late.” The phone disconnected before I could respond. Whatever he wanted to talk about clearly wasn't good, and I couldn't help but connect the dots back to a meddlesome freak and the events of last night. I just prayed to every force out there that I was wrong.

I knocked on Coach's door with ten minutes to spare. I hadn't told Kenji and Griffin how Coach had sounded on the phone, nor my theory about what prompted this meeting. My goal was to go in confident and do my best to clear up whatever issue had cropped up.

“Come in,” Coach called out from behind the door. I steadied myself before entering.

Coach Langley was a stern, but fair man. He was hired a couple years ago to completely rebuild UT’s Lacrosse program after playing the sport professionally for nearly a decade. He made it no secret that he wouldn't tolerate lazy players looking for an easy time, or cocky athletes who didn't understand what it meant to be part of a team.

Coach was someone I looked up to immensely, and I worked my ass off to prove myself to him during the last two years playing for him. It meant everything to me when he appointed me captain for my junior year, even above some seniors. The last thing I wanted was to have a problem that cost me his trust.

When I met Coach's disappointed eyes, I knew beyond a doubt that I was royally fucked.

“Hawkins. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.

I sat in awkward silence while Coach navigated to something on his computer. Finally, he flipped the screen towards me so I was staring at the university's athlete code of conduct.

“I got a call late yesterday afternoon from someone who said he needed to report a student-athlete violation,” Coach started, his expression stony. “He told me there was a situation at a party Friday night where you put your hands on him in a threatening manner. He also said you were drunk and entered the bedroom of a fraternity member with an equally intoxicated woman that shouldn't have been able to give consent for sexual activity. If you've got an explanation, now's the time.”

My brain was a mess of white noise. Blood pounded in my ears and I broke out in a cold sweat over the implications of what he was saying. I needed to get control of this, explain what really happened.

You mean how you were trying to screw a girl senseless to get rid of painful memories and ended up slamming a kid into the wall by his throat because he pissed you off? Real fucking smooth, Hawkins. Good luck with that.

“Coach, I swear that is not what happened! Yes, I admit that I wasn't exactly sober Friday night, but I didn't threaten anyone and I never slept with that girl. I told her I wasn't feeling well and I left the party alone. Griffin can vouch for me that I didn't sleep with anyone that night,” I pleaded to Coach. His eyes were scrutinizing me in the same way they did on the field. Like he could see straight through all my bullshit to the truth underneath.

“Hawkins, this is an official complaint he filed. The school's code of conduct specifically outlines alcohol or violent misconduct, both of which you are accused. I can't ignore this. Now due to the lack of proof for these allegations and considering your prior unblemished record, the athletic director has left the consequences in my hands,” Coach stated firmly.

My head was swimming and I felt bile rise up in the back of my throat, but I forced it down with a hard swallow. “What consequences?”

Coach pursed his lips and leveled me with a hard stare. “Starting today, you're on probation. I'm promoting Kenji to acting captain for the remainder of off-season while you prove to me that you can remain on your best behavior. I will hold off making a decision about your captaincy and game suspension until this matter can be investigated or the complaint is dropped.”

If Coach had whacked me in the nutsack with a Lacrosse stick and played the game with my balls, it would have hurt less than hearing the words coming out of his mouth.

“Coach, you can't be serious! I didn't do anything!” Desperation tinged my voice as I fought with him to believe me. I knew I had crossed a line with that guy on Friday, but that was my only sin. I hadn't stooped so low as to take advantage of a drunk girl, and I was hardly the only athlete to get blasted at a party. I wasn't going down for this.

“You know I don't take pleasure in any of this, Hawkins, but the University of Texas has strict expectations for their athletes. The behaviors of college players have been under a microscope in the media and for good reason. There have been scandals over compensation, hazing, sexual assaults and more. Athletes have been protected from responsibility and punishment for decades, most never being held accountable for their actions. It's a problem UT has fought to correct in recent years, and one I was adamant about fixing when I signed on as coach. This program is only as good as its players, and I cannot have my members attacking other students or making monumentally poor decisions while drinking. Especially my captain.”

Coach's words cut into me layer by layer, fear bleeding through to the surface as I struggled to control my breathing. I understood what he was saying, but I was a good student and a damn good athlete. I had never believed I was above reproach.

And yet I couldn't fucking admit to what I actually did to that guy. I'd be kicked off the team and lose my scholarship, and that was a fate I wouldn't survive.

I can't go back there…

“Please, Coach. I promise you that I am innocent,” I said calmly, trying like hell to keep my voice steady.

“It doesn't matter if I believe you or not. I have to enforce consequences when a complaint arises. You're damn fortunate that your character and two years of excellent behavior warrant some leniency in this case. Probation isn't equal to suspension, and your scholarship is safe for now. I know that's a major concern for you. However, if evidence is brought forward or you step one toe out of line the rest of this year, you'll be dismissed from the team. Do I make myself clear?”

It took everything in me to hold Coach's steely gaze. My stomach bottomed out and nausea rolled through me. I couldn't tell if I wanted him to believe me or not. The thought of him believing my partial lie had me feeling like the biggest piece of shit, but I also knew I wasn't guilty of everything he heard.

I might have been a dick most days, but I wasn't a fucking criminal. Though as the gravity of what was happening sunk in, violence swept through my body and I nearly vibrated with rage.

This was all because of him . That little fucker had screwed with my life one too many times now. It was on the tip of my tongue to check with coach that the complaint could indeed be withdrawn and the consequences reversed, but I held back.

I didn't want to draw attention to it in case it made me seem nervous or guilty. I needed to appear confident that I had done nothing wrong. I needed to get back in control.

“Crystal clear, Coach. But I will prove to you that the complaint was wrong about me. I'll be the best I've ever been this year and earn your trust back,” I promised.

The door slammed shut behind me as I stomped into my apartment, my fury still sky high after my meeting with Coach. I had gone to the gym to work out the excess energy running through my body, but all it did was jack my adrenaline higher.

“God fucking damn it!” I yelled, throwing my phone at the back of the couch in frustration. I speared my hands through my hair and tugged hard at the strands. The pain brought me back marginally as I attempted to calm down.

“Woah! You alright, bro? What the hell happened with Coach?” Griffin appeared in the doorway of his room. He looked confused and even a little nervous at my outburst.

“I got fucking blindsided by a discount Tom Holland and now I'm on probation! Also Kenji is taking my place as captain as if the whole thing weren't insulting enough!” I thundered.

“The fuck do you mean probation??” Griffin asked outraged.

I went through the entire conversation I had with Coach and filled him in on all the events of the party. Every infuriating second of it except for the original reason behind my sour mood that night. Recounting the whole thing had my temper pulsing dangerously, but I reined it in as much as possible. I had to be clearheaded to find a way to deal with this. There was no fucking chance I was taking this lying down.

Griffin in his trademark manner got just as heated as I did when I got to the punishment Coach slapped me with. “Dude, this is bullshit! You barely touched that loser, and how is he gonna go complain when he didn't even see you mess with that chick after he left? I swear, that shit stain better hope I don't find him or he'll really have something to complain about,” he huffed indignantly.

Oddly enough, Griff's surge in anger made it easier for me to calm back down. It was like he was a caddie for the boiling rage and fear that had swallowed me whole all day, holding it for me and allowing me just a moment of peace without it. “I just need to get my head on straight and come up with a plan,” I said slowly. I slumped on the couch and closed my eyes. My anxiety was on overdrive as the worst case scenario played on repeat in my brain.

I couldn't get kicked off the Lacrosse team. I wouldn't survive it. There were only two things in the entire world I gave a damn about: my mom and Lacrosse. Unfuckingfortunately, Lacrosse was the only one left. Without it, I could kiss my athletic scholarship goodbye, as well as any hope of graduating UT.

All my mom wanted for me was to graduate and see my dreams become a reality. From the moment she signed me up for the rec center league when I was seven, it was like the pieces clicked into place for me. It took months for her to pry that stick out of my hand, and even then I snuck it back into my room at night just to have it close by. I slept in my team jersey several nights a week when I was excited about an upcoming game. I even had a lucky Lacrosse ball that stayed with me pretty much everywhere I went. Like Wilson the volleyball, but without the bloody handprint face.

Yeah, I was one of those weird kids and you can shove your judgment. I regret nothing.

Mom and I used to talk about college and what it'd be like for me. When I told her I wanted to either play professionally or coach a university team, she didn't hesitate to throw her weight behind the idea even though I was just a kid making crazy plans. She always told me her best experiences happened when she herself was at UT. Of course, that was before she got pregnant with me and I threw a pretty big kink in her plan. But she never once made me feel like I was a mistake. According to her, I was everything.

We were each other's everything.

But that was then.

Now, I was in deep shit if my scholarship was in jeopardy. I hadn't qualified for enough financial aid to cover all my tuition and expenses, and the $1,000 a month payment I got from mom's minimal life insurance policy was barely good enough for rent and food. Loans were the absolute last resort because really, who wanted to be in debt and paying it off until they were fucking six feet under?

When I had gotten the offer for my athletic scholarship, I remember feeling that my mom had a hand in it. Like she was watching over me and helping me in some way from Heaven or wherever amazing people like her ended up. It was an answered prayer to get me out of the hellhole I had been in. I would never go back there. I'd be homeless before that happened.

“Coach did say that the complaint could be withdrawn,” I mentioned absently, mind spinning with possibilities of how to get out of this goddamn mess.

“What if we just find this freak and force him into taking it back? You know, take a few of the guys and scare the shit out of him until he calls Coach for you?” Griff offered, albeit unhelpfully.

That wouldn't work like he thought it would. This guy wasn't weak, wasn't as fragile as he seemed. He had hidden claws that came out when provoked, and I had severely underestimated him from our singular interaction. I wouldn't make that mistake again.

“No. We need to play this smart. I tried to scare him that night and it backfired,” I said carefully.

“What are you thinking?” Griffin folded his arms across his chest, sending me a curious look.

“I need to do this differently. Force my way into his world and make him question things. I want him off balance and vulnerable. I want to fuck with his mind so he never sees what's coming next. I want him to be so sick of me drilling into his head and his life that he personally begs Coach to reinstate me. Before I'm done, I will ruin him for the trouble he caused. I want to break him,” I said venomously.

“Damn. That shit is cold, Hawk,” Griff replied, but a wide smirk crept over his face. “You know, it's kind of hot when you're all vengeful and pissed off.”

His words had my eyes sliding up to meet his. The heated look I found there told me everything I needed to know, and right now I was perilously close to giving in.

“I think I have an idea of how you can…redirect that negative energy of yours,” he coaxed, dropping to his knees in front of me. I watched through hooded eyes as he deftly untied the waistband of my sweats and pulled my half-hard dick out of my boxers.

Griffin eyed it like it was his favorite meal and he'd been starving for it. The first time he kissed me we were trashed coming back from a team party following a major win freshman year. He caught me off guard as we stumbled through our door, and suddenly he was on me. In two minutes, he was sucking my cock down as I worked to wrap my mind around what was happening, but it was good enough to have me coming back for more. And more and more.

We continued it every few months when one of us was bored or Griffin was feeling especially frisky. I wasn't really into him, but it was hella convenient.

“Griff, that's not a good idea. I'm fucking pissed and I don't want to hurt you,” I warned him, and yet my erection only seemed to grow in his hand that was slowing pumping me to life.

“Use me then, Hawk. Fuck my throat and let it out,” he rasped. Before I could blink, he tongued my slit and sucked the head of my cock into his mouth. I threw my head back and focused on the wet heat that engulfed me as he slowly swallowed me to the back of his throat.

I gripped his hair and unleashed on him. My hips plowed forward until I heard the telltale gag, and then I kept going. My eyes stayed tightly closed as I fucked his mouth as flashes of angry violet eyes filled my mind. I imagined holding that twink's hair roughly as I drove my cock into his mouth, tears and snot covering that innocent face of his.

Thinking of all the ways I'd make him beg and cry, the monster in me woke up and smiled, ready to come out and play.