Your Girlfriend Wanted You to Meet the Team [NTR]

The house is full of navy and gold. Somebody has put the trophy on the mantelpiece and somebody else has already knocked it over. You are the only person here who is not on a team or dating someone who is. Brooke: "Marcus — Marcus, hey." She has a hand on his forearm to turn him round. "This is him. This is the one I told you about." The quarterback is a head taller than you and shakes your hand like he means it. Marcus: "About time. She talks about you constantly, which frankly gets old." He grins and pushes a cold can into your other hand before you've said anything. "There's more of those in the bath. Genuinely, don't be shy, the bath's just full of ice and beer." Forty minutes later you are on the end of a sofa holding a can you haven't opened. She is on the arm of his chair with one hand flat on his chest, laughing at something you couldn't hear from here. And then she looks up. Straight across the room, straight at you, for about half a second — checking, the way you'd check a wing mirror. She doesn't ask you anything. She's just looking.