On the Sideline (BSU Football #3) - J.B. Salsbury Page 0,2

I squeak.

“What did I tell you about making those noises,” she whisper-yells. “Listen to me. Snakes have bad eyesight; they hunt by scenting the air with their tongues. You do not want to give off the scent of panic and a racing pulse or he might confuse you for a dying animal. Keep your heart rate steady.”

I blow out what is meant to be a calming breath, but sounds more like an audible shiver.

“Focus on my voice…”

I nod and close my eyes, my hands fist the bedding at my sides, and the thing starts to move again. “Get it off me,” I whisper.

“I can’t. If I try to grab him, he might lash out fangs first. You’re totally safe…I think. I mean, snakes don’t eat humans. Oh wow, he’s headed toward your…um…”

I lock my throat closed to keep down a high-pitched shriek of fear.

“It’ll be alright. They eat baby rats so as long as you don’t have anything that resembles a nest of warm, baby, hairless rats in your underwear, you should technically be okay.”

I manscaped in anticipation for my night with Riley—my eyes pop wide open.

“They’re ambush predators so if he was going to attack, he’d clamp down hard with his fangs and then—”

“Please stop,” I whisper as quietly as I can. My dick is about to die and get eaten by a fucking snake. I may never use him again. Why didn’t I appreciate the last good time we had together? All the good times we’ve had together? A tear escapes my eye and rolls down my temple.

A flick of a switch and the room is revealed under fluorescent light…not Riley’s room. And that’s not Riley glaring down at me through thick, smudged up glasses. “You mind telling me what you’re doing in my bed, jock?” There’s no more kindness or caution in her voice, no panic or concern. Just straight up annoyance.

I try my best to look down my body without any sudden movements, and see the massive bump of snake coiled right next to my dick and balls…well, to be fair, my ball sac. It’s inhabitants retreated into my stomach minutes ago.

Her eyes narrow. “I know you.”

“What?” I mouth, mostly silently, nothing more than a puff of shallow air.

“You’re Rowan and Emery’s roommate, you play football.”

“Yes, yeah, that’s me….” Please save me, I implore with my eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?”

She pulls a chair from across the room, the scrape of it’s metal legs against the tile sends my pulse through the top of my head. She flips the chair around, and straddles the back like a man. “You’re sorry for what? Trespassing? Getting naked in my room?” Her big eyes squint into slivers behind her thick glasses. “Are you some kind of sick pervert?” She eyes the bed and frowns. “You didn’t rub one off in my bed, did you? Because I swear to God, if you did—”

“No. No. No.” I am trying my best to stay calm but there’s still a hungry fucking snake with fangs cuddling my cock. “I thought it was Riley’s room.”

“What?” she says way too fucking loudly, making the animal twitch and my stomach cave in on itself.

“Shhh, please.” The thing slithers along my groin. “Oh God, it’s moving.”

“You thought you were in Riley’s room? The three snake habitats didn’t give that away?” She tilts her head, her massive crown of messy curls looking a lot like that rats nest she mentioned earlier. “Are you blind?”

My chest bounces with short, quick breaths. “Drunk.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Was.” The one word sounds like the air release from a balloon valve.

She seems to think that over for a bit. Take your fucking time, sweetheart. Her gaze drops to my chest, my abdomen, and then my boxer shorts where she sighs heavily. “Alright, I believe you.” She slips her hands into my boxers and I gasp and nearly pass out as I anticipate the sharp sting of fangs in my softest of soft spots. “He’s innocent, Monty.” The serpent she pulls from my underwear is white and yellow and looks as long as my arm. I nearly black out, but adrenaline has me in flight mode, and I scramble to sit up. I cup my junk protectively while watching as the thing coils around her forearm, and she kisses the slimy beasts head.

Stomach bile surges in my throat bathing the back of my tongue in day-old whiskey, but I’m helpless to look away from the horror movie going on in front of me.

“Who’s a good boy? You’re