Nba Youngboy Brother Novels & Stories

I yanked from the bleacher as my lungs forgot to work when the number knocks a memory out of me. That was seven Calloway. I knew his face from the billboards. Hot. Sweet smile. "Rookie to Watch" all over the airport last month. He was in every magazine. But here, under these lights, he did not look sweet. He looked furious. Ironically, he was Levi’s stepbrother. Same dad after Levi's mom died, different mom, different pack. They grew up in the same house for 6 years and hated each other before seven left for Canada with his mom.

I was dripping again, I could feel it sliding down my inner thigh. If I had any sense left, I would’ve told him to stop. This was wrong on so many levels. He was my boss, and he was also Damon’s older brother, the same Damon I’d been casually seeing until recently. I’d had sex with Damon before, and it had been fine. Good, even. But nothing like this. Nathaniel had already made me come once with just his mouth and fingers, and I hadn’t even been fucked yet.

With his older siblings, his lovely mom and like a hundred grandkids. I love every guy in my team and I do consider them my family, but Grayson was actually a brother to me in the most spiritual sense of the word and I would try to give him an organ if he ever needed one, just like I'm almost sure he would give me his or move the whole world to find me one. And… I completely ghosted him after my crash, along with everyone else. I even ghosted his family when they reached out asking if I was fine.

the younger boy asked in awe. The older boy’s brows furrowed, but he answered. “Twelve. You?” The younger boy’s eyes brightened with a mix of relief and curiosity. “I’m nine,” he said, a small smile breaking through the tear-streaked mess of his face. “Can I call you brother?” The older boy raised an eyebrow. “No.” “Why?” The boy looked disappointed. “I have a name,” he said shortly. The younger boy looked at him with wide eyes. “What’s your name?”

Rule number nine: No lies - no matter what. Rule number ten: Best friends must fix fights before the day ends. Rule number eleven: Best friends never let anyone come between them. And rule number twelve: Best friends forever — no matter what happens. In a few hours, I’ll officially become a tenth-grade student. But before that, there are a few things you should know about me. Sixteen years ago, I was born into a small but beautiful family. There's my younger brother, Christian, and my father who works several jobs so that we can survive.

"Now send me your location before you go." She pulled out her phone and went to share it and that was when I saw it. My contact name on her screen, right there in the search bar. *Dumbass.* I stared at it. "Please tell me that's not me." She looked up with the straightest face she could manage and failed completely. "I'm changing it right now. You're going to be Brother." "Do not call me Brother." "Why not? You are my brother." "I would rather stay Dumbass."

"I told you I’m helping with the family business. My parents are retiring soon. I have a younger sister and she has no interest in working in the company and I’m the only son. Someone has to take responsibility." "Hmm…..your sister must be a tough one," I said smiling. "No….on the contrary. She's very cool. Although she can be a lot, she's loving. She's always in my business" He laughed, pulling out his phone."You’d probably like her." He turned the screen toward me. “This is her.” I glanced at the phone. And my world stopped, I froze. My fork slipped from my fingers and fell onto the plate.

"So you will play on the same NFL team as my big brother?" "Yeah, I think Jason had something to do with the incredible contract they offered me. They need another quarterback, and even though I'm pretty young, they want me." I blink. "Wait, how old are you?" A somewhat confused smile spreads over his lips. "I'm turning twenty-two next week," Lionel blushes slightly. "I'm one of the younger players, but I've been all about football since I was a kid. Besides, even if I'm young, there are even younger players."

EIGHT YEARS AGO It was a sunny afternoon in the Donovan's expensive backyard. The sound of dribbling basketball and the laughter of two teenage boys filled the air. Trent, aged 10, his face a mirror image of his twin brother Tom, maneuvered the ball between his legs, dodging his best friend's attempts to steal it. With a well-timed jump shot, the ball arced through the net, and his friend groaned. "Man, you're too good at this," Damien complained, swiping the sweat from his brow. "I'm about ready to call it quits."

They looked so similar, I blinked a few times, still doubting my vision. Asher noticed me staring. “This is my older brother. Chase.” Asher had a brother?!