Breeding

She’s a dork. And fuck, why does that turn me on even more? Get it together, Chris. Shutting her door, I try to push all thoughts of Megan out of my head. Off limits. I tell myself again. When I get back to the deck, I look around for Croy, and my jaw tightens when I spot him. Megan has her back pushed to the wall of the house, and I see Croy leaning into her, his hand resting beside her head. She’s smiling at whatever he is saying.

I have the sudden urge to punch him right in the face, which is contrary to what I’ve been doing all summer: making sure his ass doesn’t get hurt so our season doesn't go to shit. Wouldn't look too good if the coach punched the starting quarterback right in his pretty-boy face.

“Anderson!” I snap his last name like we’re at practice, and it achieves the effect I want. He snaps to attention, looking like a deer in headlights. “Here’s your book. Now get your ass home and get some rest. We had a long day today.”

“Sure thing, Coach,” he says, but not before he