ARWAN
I'm aroused.
I'm so ashamed I can barely hold my head up as my teammates chat in the dressing room and congratulate each other on yet another victory.
Sitting on the bench, I keep my head down and concentrate on my breathing in order to lower the tension inside me—although nothing really seems to work. It's not so much the erection that embarrasses me but rather where it comes from.
I look like a freaking kid who's just entered puberty.
It happened just after our basketball match against Manchester when she came to congratulate me. Waverly and I have been pretending for days now, so she came over and hugged me—just like she usually does now. I'm used to it, too.
