A Superstition

After practice, I picked up my bag and was about to head straight to my apartment, but then I saw her and couldn't help but pause. She sat on a bench, a book in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

I stared at her even before I realized I was staring. 

I didn't need a genius to tell me she was a loner. There was a way she watched a crowd, like she was expecting a blow that never comes. That panic in her eyes earlier today… I wanted to know what it was about, but I knew she wouldn't tell me. 

And then the glare she had given that girl…

I didn't want to head down there right now, because I might embarrass myself. My legs moved to her before I could decide, and I dropped down on the space beside her.

She raised her head and looked at me with an irritated look before she looked back at her book, ignoring me.  

“I didn’t find a tour guide,” I said, looking straight ahead. Students passed, and they stared. 

“That’s too bad,” she said as she turned a page.

“I got lost three times.”

“Poor Jackson.”

My lips moved. I stopped myself before I could smile.

“This is the part where you offer to be my tour guide.”

“And this is the part where I tell your English ass to fuck off.”

I scoffed before I could stop myself, and she glanced at me from her side-eye before she kept reading.

Siri. Siri. Siri. 

I wanted to peel back every layer and find out what made Siri who she was. I wanted to know what life had done to her to make her this way. She had a story in those honey-brown eyes, and I wanted to hear every single one. 

Which was so unlike me. I usually didn't care. 

Coming to California, I had told myself I wouldn't get involved with my mom’s new family. That I was only here because she had begged me to, despite me trying to talk her out of this marriage that I could already see the end of.

And yet, here I was, barely five nights later, interested in a girl who found her book more interesting than I was.

I had told her she was interesting, and she asked “how” in that shaky voice, desperate to hear my answer. What answer would I have given her if we weren’t interrupted? 

Would I have told her about the fire I could see clearly in those eyes, and yet, behind that fire, it was like a light just went out? Or maybe tell her about how I could see the walls she has built around her, and how she has cut herself off from the world even as she walked and lived in that same world?

Which was it? Which of the many interesting things I've seen in her eyes would I have told her?

She suddenly shut her book harshly and raised her head to me. Her gaze was hard. I’ve come to realize that I like that harsh gaze, much to my own shock.

“You’re staring,” she said. 

“You don't say.”

My answer irritated her. “Do you want to be branded as an outcast, Jackson?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why will I be branded?” 

“That is what will happen if you're seen with me continuously.” She picked up her bag and stood. “Leave me alone.” And then, in a low voice, she added, “Please.”

She walked away, leaving me seated there, and I stared at her back until she was out of sight.

“Leave you alone, huh?” I muttered as I picked up my bag, a smirk lifting my lips. “We’ll see.”

~.~

So… I had a superstition: I had to have sex a night before a game, otherwise I’d fuck it up. No, not might. Would. 

My fist was a blur as it stroked my cock, the sound of it filling my room. I rubbed my crown in a way that made me inhale a sharp breath, more precum pouring out of my slit. I caught it and coated my dick with it, stroking faster, my jaw clenched as I panted. 

My bicep ached from how fast my hand was moving, but I couldn't slow down now. I was close. I could feel it in the base of my spine. With my other hand, I grabbed my balls, rubbing them together, and I groaned deeply, shutting my eyes. 

Suddenly, brunette hair flashed behind my closed eyelids, and I snapped them open.

“What the fuck, Jackson?” I growled as I stroked faster, but as much as I was disgusted with myself for thinking about her while doing something like this, that still pushed me off the edge.

“Fuck!” I roared as I came, a rope of semen shooting out of me and landing on my stomach and chest.

I lay there in my room, staring up at the ceiling, coming down from my high.

I had a game tomorrow, and I knew this wouldn't be enough. This might sound like bullshit, and an excuse for me to have sex, but I knew what I was saying. I’d had years to come to this conclusion. 

So I needed to get laid. If I didn't want to fuck up my first game with a new team, I needed to get laid. I cleaned up and got dressed, throwing on a hoodie and a pair of jeans. I picked up my car keys and left the house. 

Before I could hunt my companion for the night, I needed coffee even though it was already late. So I stopped at the cafe just a few blocks from my place.

“Good evening. What–”

She cut herself off, and both our eyes went wide as we stared at each other.

Of all the people I could have met behind that counter, it had to be her. And judging by the way my body was reacting to seeing her, my superstition has just become a hell of a lot more complicated. And that scene that flashed in my mind when I was handling my private business wasn't helping either. 

“Jackson,” Siri said, the first to recover from her shock.

I said nothing. I just stared at her. She looked… different. Maybe it was the hat she was putting on, and the fact that her hair wasn't in view, but she looked different, and I couldn't help but just keep staring.

I also fought to keep my eyes from straying to her chest. They looked… fuller. 

“Please, sir, you can step aside and keep staring at the corner, but don't stand in front of the counter. I need to attend to other customers,” she said, looking and sounding irritated.

I looked behind me. I was the only one standing behind the counter. I looked back at her. 

“Indulge me, Siri,” I said, leaning down and resting my elbow on the counter. She rolled her eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

I went on anyway. “Why are you working in a café when your father is doing well for himself?”

A hard look flashed in her eyes, but she didn't let it linger. “Because I like having my own money?”

“You–”

“Indulge me, Jackson,” she said, cutting me off. “Why are you dressed like a thief in the night?”

“I’m trying to get laid.”

Her left eyebrow quirked up. “Congratulations?”

“I’m looking for a woman.”

“Maybe try a dating app?”

“I was hoping for something faster.”

“The bar across the street, then.” 

“Are you not going to offer to help?”

“Do you see a sign above my forehead that says I help men with an erection?”

I leaned in closer to her, ignoring the eyes on us. “We could make one.”