“What about Ryder King?” Coach asks.
My brows raise in shock; I’ve considered Ryder. He’s bound to be the best player on our team, but he just joined.
“With all due respect, you asked my opinion. My final two recommendations are—” taking a deep breath I finally make the decision “—Keith Hall and Blaine Mitchell.”
”That’s surprisingly what the votes are telling us so far too,” he mutters under his breath.
“Alright.” Coach Andres stands up, offering me his hand to shake. “It’s settled. Keith Hall and Blaine Mitchell are the alternate captains this season.”
As I awkwardly shake Coach’s hand, the dark clouds in my chest that were starting to part are at a standstill the second I get back to my locker.
“Mitchell, are you sure you don’t want to join us,” Silas asks Blaine.
“C’mon, Mitch,” Ryder practically begs. “You’re my best wingman.”
A huff of irritation escapes Tyler and storms away without saying a word. No one seems to notice except me.
With a shake of his head, Blaine denies them.
“Blaine fucking Mitchell, don’t make me get on my knees and beg you,” Ryder tries to convince him.
Blaine lets out a chuckle, tossing his towel into the basket at the end of the bench.
“I can see it in his eyes, dude,” Silas plays along. “He’s not fucking around.”
Ryder starts to bend a knee to kneel before Blaine finally caves.
“Fuck,” Blaine concedes. “I’ll go.” He places his hat backward on his head, his signature style.
“Thank, God.” Ryder clasps his hands together in prayer. “I’m trying to get someone on their knees for me, not the other way around. No offense, Mitch.”
Silas cackles, feeding into Ryder’s ego as a sly grin spreads across Ryder’s face.
From around the corner, Tyler yells, “What do you think you’re fucking doing?”
Ryder looks around puzzled, brows furrowed. “Uh, making plans?”
“I was talking to Mitchell,” Tyler spits each word out like they’re toxic, stepping directly in front of Blaine, fist clenched.
“Huh?” Blaine responds slowly, “I don’t know what you mean, man.”
Tyler snatches Blaine’s hat from his head and flings it down to the ground before aggressively stabbing him in the chest with his finger.
“Don’t fucking hurt Libby,” Tyler warns as he pokes Blaine sharply in the chest again.
Blaine balls his hands into fists at his sides. Instead of launching forward at Tyler, Blaine throws his hands up in defense.
“I’m not doing anything to hurt her,” Blaine speaks up.
In the blink of an eye, Tyler lunges forward, pushing Blaine, who manages to stay upright on his feet.
“I heard you,” Tyler snarls, his face reddening with fury. “Don’t lie.”
Blaine’s knuckles turn white. His arms are stiff, as if he’s holding back the angry storm brewing. I’m positive a fight is going to break out if I don’t intervene. But before I can, Blaine tosses his hands in the air again.
“Just because I agreed to go out, doesn’t mean anything,” Blaine counters.
Ryder rushes to back up Blaine. “Yeah, dude, I practically had to beg him. He said no at first anyway.”
