We run through campus until we reach the frat house Henneman sent a pin drop to. Of course it had to be the one with half the lacrosse players. Most of the teams at Crestwood have issues with one another. It stems from who gets the larger share of financial support . . . andif there’s anyone most of them hate the most, it’s our hockey team.
Not our fault we win national championships or that a high percentage of our players end up on professional teams. Well, the football team does as well.
But why the fuck is Henneman here anyway?
Drunken laughter and shouting pour out every time the door opens, along with the faint scent of weed and stale beer. Viktor pushes the door open, and the scene inside is chaos. Red Solo cups litter every surface, bodies grind in every corner, and someone’s puking onto the floor.
We move through the crowd, searching for the two people we’re going to murder once we get them out of here. And yes, Eli is one of those. Fucking Feisty Mouse. What is he even thinking?
“Holy shit.” Viktor points ahead.
And there they are, up on a table together, dancing. Merci’s lithe body moves to the beat of the music, his crop top riding up to reveal his entire midriff. The words “Community Hole” are emblazoned in bold, glittery letters across his chest.
My teeth grind until my jaw aches as the muscles in my arms twitch and coil. I want to grab him, drag him down, and shield him from leering eyes. After, I wantto go through his entire fucking wardrobe and burn it, including that shirt and Raiyne’s jersey, if he still has it.
“We need to get them down, or Alexei will lose his absolute shit and kill all of us.”
Just then, three guys walk closer to the table. One of them reaches up and grabs Merci’s ass. “Hey, Community Hole. What’re you offering?”
Everything goes quiet except the blood rushing in my ears. My nostrils flare as I push people out of my way toward the fuckhead whose hand is now on Merci's thigh, about to teach him a lesson that ends with someone calling an ambulance.
“Baby, I bet I can suck your dick better than any girl in here. Make you see stars and all that shit.” Merci winks at the guy.
Another guy snickers. “What a fucking cum dump. Bet the house would love to use your holes.” He grabs Merci’s arm, yanking him off the table.
Eli squeals and kicks the guy. Another retaliates and punches Feisty Mouse in the leg, and he crumples down on the table.
I charge forward, Viktor right next to me. Suddenly, a chair flies over our heads and Viktor grunts as someone slams past him hard enough to knock him off balance.
Alexei.
I follow behind. My friend is larger than any other people here and easily plows through the crowd. Must be all the training he puts in. He was a beast before, and now he’s double the size.
“Solnyshko!”
Eli looks up, wide-eyed and whimpers, the sound barely audible over the music, then he turns to the guy who punched his leg and smiles. “You’re about to eat shit.”
The guy cocks his arm back just as Alexei grabs him by his collar, then proceeds to punch him in the face. Over and over and over, his knuckles covered in blood.
I pull Eli off the table. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”
Viktor wraps an arm around him and tries to guide him toward the door. I spin around, looking for Merci, but he’s not here.
“Oh, look who showed up. The fucking hockey team.” The asshole who grabbed Merci snarls as he throws a punch my way.
I block it, then return one of my own, connecting with his cheek. He throws a hit to my ribs. We go back and forth, eventually ending up on the ground.
Someone grabs my jacket, and while I wiggle out of it, the fucktard lands a few extra hits to my ribs, along with another person stomping on my back. I wince, some inkling of pain seeping through, then swing again. “Keep your fucking hands off what isn’t yours.”
“You a faggot too? Just like your goalie?” He grabs my hair as he punches me in the head. “Pathetic that all the Athletic department’s money goes to you.”
“And you expect it to go to your sport.” I spear him in the throat, then sit up, grinning. “There’s no fucking money in lacrosse. No real pro team. Nothing anyone wants to spend millions on.”
He spits on me.
“Let me guess. Scholarship student, too. Not for long.” I grab his wrist, then twist it with both hands, causing the bones to snap.
He screams, and I laugh while getting to my feet. Beside me, Viktor is beating the shit out of another guy, smashing a bottle over his head. Alexei is taking on two others. I should help, but I need to find Merci.
