Distraction

By: Angela McPherson

Acknowledgements



I have a ton of people to thank. To the ladies at Talk Books To Me book blog, I love y'all so hard! Brandi Baker, Karia Kaukinen and Dori Estabrook, you have no idea how much I appreciate you answering my (many) late night football questions and listening to me ramble about these characters. Rayna Rose, honey, you have been with me since the beginning stages of Distraction, all the way to where it is today. Your endless support kept me going when I didn't think I could. Heather Van Fleet, my kick ass author friend, thank you for believing in Tristan and Elle's story as much, if not more than me. Lynn Vroman, you are the best EVER! Distraction wouldn't be the story it is today without your crazy-good editing skills. Jen Wylie, thank you for listening to me cry over these characters and for teaching/pushing me to be the best author I can be. I can't express my gratitude for all you've done. I'm so super glad we're friends. Sean, thanks for all the laughs and for being, well, you. Liz Swaffar and Kat Davis-Muynila with Four Chicks Flipping Pages, you guys are the best and I appreciate all your awesome support. My amazing coworkers at Pedi Med Center: Karen, Amanda, Jennifer, Kim, Jade, Sherina, Tiffany, Olga, Irma, Laura, Teri, Nena, Leah, Dr. Castillo and Dr. Nabulsi, thanks for putting up with me. To my husband and kids, thanks for letting me stay in my writing cave for hours (days) at a time. I love you so much.





Chapter 1



Tristan



I couldn't seem to get my shit together today. The second I got out of my car, my clothes stuck to my skin from the hot, humid air. It took an entire year of college to get used to the fucking “sweat dripping down your balls" weather up here. Being a football player didn't help the sweaty balls problem.

A few beads of moisture dripped down my forehead and into my eyes as I jogged across campus. I stopped running and used the corner of my gray T-shirt to wipe the sting away. Football made the heat bearable. Rushing, guarding, receiving, and basically being a badass consumed me. I lived for the rush of the game. The lights. The thrill of making an impossible catch, all of it.

Next year, with being a junior, I'd have more pull and therefore more play time. Not that I worried now. I dominated in my position as wide receiver. My climb in national ranking was pretty awesome, and rated up there with a good blow job. In fact, word is that after graduation I'm expected to be among the top ten in the first round of the draft. Practice, determination, and perseverance would get me to where I needed to be.

This year at the end of our season, we'd ranked in the top five best college football teams in our region. Not bad, but we could do better. We could be number one, and I wanted it. If only to prove a point to my prick of a dad.

None of that'd matter, because if I didn't get my ass to the field house, I'd risk being bumped from my starting position. Nah, never gonna happen, but I did need to hurry. I didn't like being late.

On my way I passed a few of our cheerleaders, and judging from the post-glistening glow against their skin, they'd finished working out. Kat and her friend Liz waved while their friend Karia flipped me off. Not surprising, and I should've left well enough alone. Should've. Instead, I responded with a wink and followed up with my famous come-taste-me grin. The same look that got her to follow me back to my apartment for an all night fuck fest my freshman year. Damn, the things she did with her tongue. Thinking about her soft mouth gave me an instant hard-on. Too bad she wanted more when we'd finished. At the time, I couldn't picture myself as a “more" type of guy.

"Fuck you," Karia shouted as I walked past.

I smiled wider. "Already did that, sweetheart."

A slew of expletives flew out of her tightlipped mouth as I reached the doors to the field house.

Walking into the locker room, I took a brief moment and inhaled the funk air. There's nothing like the smell of dirty socks, shoes, and armpit sweat to get the blood pumping, ready for a hard practice. I headed to my locker and sat on the bench next to Dan, our team's best linebacker.

"Man, are the rumors true?"

I looked at Dan and quirked a brow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Dan eyed the area cautiously before leaning closer in. "Come on, you know."

No, I don't. "Just spit whatever you're getting at out already."

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