While Kevin and the others moved back, Thad took a step forward, gesturing the DJ to lower the volume again. "And, ladies and gentlemen, say hello to the latest addition to our vicious Pirates," he shouted as he raised his arms, like he was a wrestling announcer. "Terry!"

He slapped my shoulder, but whispered to my ear. "You have two seconds to give your phone to your girlfriend," he said.

Realizing what he had in mind, I immediately passed my wallet and phone to Megan, who was quick to slip them into the small, stylish bag on her shoulder. She wasn't surprised by their poor condition — she had seen my rust bucket of a car — but that didn't mean she wanted to announce that to the crowd.

Thad and three other linemen lifted me without any other warning, along with the cheers of the crowd. "Terry, Terry, Terry!" they shouted repeatedly even as they threw me up several times with all their strength.

And considering hose guys were defensive tackles, each easily lifting near four hundred pounds while benching, I was flying quite a bit of distance, enough to make it actually dangerous if I hit the floor

Luckily, when they finally threw me into the pool, it wasn't one of their full power throws. I landed on the pool, unable to suppress my laughter. The warm hug of the water told me that my earlier guess was correct, that the pool was heated, but it wasn't the only thing that was keeping me warm.

As I forced myself to the edge of the pool, more than one girl drifted near me by complete accident, not only showing their bodies clad in lingerie — wet lingerie — but also accidentally, putting their hands over my body. Most caressed my chest or my back, enjoying my muscles, but the daring hands that actually measured my bulge were more than a few.

The party was much more entertaining than I had expected.

When I arrived at the side, rather than letting me struggle helplessly, Thad helped me out.

"Welcome to the Pirates, little sailor," he shouted, earning another set of cheers from the party. Then, he looked at Megan. "It's a pity you found yourself a girlfriend. There is more than one cheerleader that would enjoy the first ride."

I smirked, enjoying the banter. Thad was turning out to be a nice, yet simple guy. Not simple as in stupid — people often underestimate the players, and Thad's type made it much easier — but simple as direct. So, despite knowing him for less than a day, I was confident to bet that he had said that intentionally.

And his grin, targeting Megan rather than me, was more than enough evidence.

A nice wingman moment. It was his way of supporting me, reminding Megan that she had to work hard to keep her new boyfriend in hand against the enthusiastic competition.

A slight tenseness on her lips was all Megan displayed to show that she understood his point. Then, she turned to me, giving me a pointed look, as if she was asking me to side with her against Thad, maybe a grand declaration of love or something similar.

My answer was a sardonic smile. The alliance to take down Kevin was amusing, but it wasn't enough to make me abandon the benefits of the Den. Not just because I wanted to have fun — which I did — but also doing so would actively affect my standing in the team. Seduction capabilities were one of the currencies.

I didn't say even a word to Megan. She had dated another football player, and she was smart enough to realize the dilemma I was facing.

Well, more accurately, the dilemma she was facing.

She was the one who decided to kiss me in the middle of the crowd to make a great show. Now, it was her job to clean it up.

Her display of initiative didn't surprise me. Without even a word, she leaned forward, her arms around my neck, and stole a short, yet heated kiss, something I had responded to very enthusiastically. She might be acting, but it didn't make her lips any less delicious.

"They have to work very hard if they want the first ride," she said as she pulled back, but kept her body pressed against mine despite my wet clothes — another smart detail. "Especially since I'm not above asking help from a friend to reward my man."

That earned a laugh from Thad as he slapped my shoulder, but before he could help me any more, he was dragged away by two cheerleaders, wearing skirts that might well be stylish cotton belts.

"So, should I expect this mysterious friend to actually arrive, or was that just a way to distract our lovable blonde giant?" I whispered into her ear even as I wrapped my arm comfortably around her waist, and she leaned against my chest. From a distance, we probably looked like the newest power couple of the college, gossip exploding around us, not even bothering to conceal their curious gazes.

Or the speed of their fingers as they danced over their phones, typing endless posts. I even noticed several of them trying to take photos in a manner they assumed was hidden.

If I were to bet, I would say we were already trending on whatever social media app of the week for the college students.

After a small break where I changed into some spare clothes — which I luckily had in my sports bag just in case — we started walking around the party.

Megan kept her arms around me for the next hour as we walked around the party, drinking and mingling, while Megan did every little thing a new — and slightly airheaded — girlfriend was supposed to do, like she was going through a checklist.

Then, we hit a little snag.

First, a little tangent. Trying to match the consumption capabilities of a hulking man, nearly seven feet, weighing more than three-hundred pounds, with a habitual drinking ability enough to impress an AA meeting, was simply madness.

And unfortunately the guy in front of me, Clark, one of the defensive power tackles — a.k.a the big man of the defense whose job was to easily push two people at the same time — was the perfect embodiment of every single of those features.

"Come on, Terry, don't be a wuss," he laughed even as he carried a large tray, filled with an impressive number of shot glasses. And, the number of players that were following him, not bothering to hide their snickers, suggested that I was about to face a hazing ritual.

As far as the hazing rituals went, that was pretty mild — and I suspected humiliating the backup quarterback went a long way to ensure that — but once again, simply didn't mean effective.

"Oh, I guess you won't be up to meeting with my friend," Megan whispered into my ear, before pulling back. "I can do that, honey!"

I smirked at her little ploy. "Thanks, sweetie," I said, leaning for a quick kiss, but using the opportunity to whisper into her ear instead. "Do you want to bet?" She caught my eyes, like she was asking for the details. "Simple, I finish the game, you don't interfere. If I win, you help your friend to reward me."

"Oh, I'm feeling jealous, already aiming for my friend," she said with a smirk.

"You're right. I shouldn't think of anyone other than my beautiful girlfriend. How about a lap dance my beautiful girlfriend instead." That stopped her for a moment. "If you can handle it, of course."

Her frown at my dig was beautiful. "You can't just make them stop, the tray has to be emptied." I nodded, trying not to smirk at her wording, trying not to alert her to her mistake. She was in for a surprise.

I ignored her victorious smirk as she no doubt imagined how to leverage the bet where she conveniently didn't raise a stake for a future favor.

I had a nice surprise for her.

I turned to Clark, and indirectly, the rest of the defensive team. "Are you sure, Clark? It'll be difficult for the guys to carry you," I said, loud enough to be heard by anyone. They exploded in laughter, before gathering around us, shouting for us to drink.

"Oh, you're brave, little guy," Clark answered, which, as someone above six feet, was not an insult I had been on the receiving end before. But in this case, it was completely accurate.

"Let's go," I said even as I reached and grabbed two glasses. I drank the first one smoothly, despite the burning sensation enveloping my throat. The laughter exploding around me suggested that it was intentional.

Well, it wouldn't have been a hazing if we were drinking aged whiskey rather than the disgusting stuff that could strip off varnish off the table if spilled.

However, when I raised the glass to my lips for the second time, there was no such pain.

The reason, a little sleight of hand, owing to my childhood. Before settling on a career as a chess hustler, I had experimented with street magic — and maybe, just maybe, some pickpocketing — before setting on chess.

I still remembered how to do some simple tricks. And subtly flipping two glasses, one empty, the other filled with a clear liquid, while grabbing the glasses in such a way that it wasn't immediately visible was one of the simplest possible tricks.

Especially in a college party, where the dim lights and a drunk audience helped immensely.

So, while I made a show of drinking the shot, I tipped the other one to the floor. At this hour, with more than one person bombing into the pool, the floor was sufficiently wet so the spilled alcohol was nicely blended.

I laughed even as Clark reached for the next set of shots, repeating the move, but I only used one hand to pick two glasses, the other still holding the empty glass, switching before it reached my lips.

"More, more, more," the audience shouted. Clark did his best to drink, but as the tray got emptier, he was starting to stumble. I faked my movement to match him. I wasn't an excellent actor, but I was certainly good enough to convince a drunk cheering crowd.

One important member of the crowd wasn't drunk, and she was watching me with an increasingly grim expression. She wasn't quick to notice my trick, but she managed to see through my drunk act.

And after that, it didn't take long for her eyes to drop down my hands, her frown getting even tricker.

To her credit, she actually stuck to our agreement, and didn't try to tip off the other players, watching me as we drained the tray filled with shots two by two, only to earn another small celebration when I managed to stay conscious, where even Clark was stumbling badly.

"Bring another tray, boys, we have a strong boy here," Thad cried.

"That's enough, boys," Megan said, her voice just loud enough to cut through the cries of the crowd without becoming overbearing. "I still need him for the rest of the night. I can't have him passing out."

"If you want to be boring," Thad answered from the crowd, but followed by laughter, it was hardly a serious statement. Not that Megan cared about that. She had already grabbed my hand, dragging me to her car.

I followed her, even though it needed me to leave the party that was going on my honor.

I still have a tournament to play in the morning. Maybe even win, if my traits continued to work like that.