“What?” Marcus calls, holding onto the ball instead of throwing it to me.
“You ever gonna practice with the rest of us, or is Choi your new favorite?”
“Back off,” Marcus shouts, “Ted said he was happy for us to train together, there’s another quarterback you can practice with.”
“Well he’s not a fucking starter, is he?” Joel shouts, throwing his helmet to the floor like a child in a tantrum.
“Yeah,” Marcus laughs, “and neither are you!”
A few of the other guys have stopped to listen, whereas I just want the ground to swallow me up, hating being the center of attention.
“It’s okay, Marcus,” I shout, “I’ll practice with Austin.”
I signal to the reserve quarterback who is currently throwing passes to both Jordan and Isaac.
“Fuck off, Choi!” Joel shouts. “Nobody gives a shit what you want, rookie.”
He spits the word like it’s an insult and it puts me in an awkward position. Do I ignore him and let him get away with it, risking the team thinking I’m a pushover, or do I square off and cause a scene, potentially getting myself in more trouble than I did for punching Kyle. I always thought Joel was a bit of an asshole, but this is taking it to a whole other level. Before I can decide, Ted appears.
“That’s enough, Joel,” he yells. “I’m the coach and I told them to practice together, if you’ve got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”
Instead of seeing it through, Joel backs down and stalks off the field back to the locker room.
“What are the rest of you standing around for?” Ted yells. “Back to practice.”
We hustle to finish our drills, but Jordan inches closer to me whenever he has the ball. Signaling a time out to the quarterbacks, he steps close enough to talk.
“Don’t worry about Moreau… Joel,” he says, “he’s had a chip on his shoulder ever since Isaac came in and supposedly took his spot on the team.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” I ask.
“You’re his direct competition; the way practices have been going, if one of us gets injured, who do you think Ted is gonna put forward? Joel, or you?”
“It won’t be me; I’m not even practicing with you full time. Besides, that’s such a far-fetched scenario, is he really holding a grudge because of something that’s probably never gonna happen?”
Jordan shrugs. “Like I said, dude’s got a chip on his shoulder. Just give him a wide berth and tell me if he gives you any trouble.”
“Thanks, man,” I say, slapping him on the shoulder. “I appreciate it.”
We go back to our throwing drills until Ted calls time, before hitting the locker rooms to shower. Honestly, I just want to get back to my hotel so I can call Donovan. I haven’t spoken to him since I left Winbrook yesterday and I miss him. I only met him four weeks ago and I fucking miss him. What is happening to me?
Donovan answers my video call on the second ring, and I hope it means he’s been just as eager to talk to me.
“Hey you,” he says, smiling into the camera.
He looks so fucking cute lying in bed, his hair all tousled against the pillow and a book resting against his chest.
“Hey!”
“Your hair’s wet,” he says.
“Just showered,” I smirk, flashing my phone camera down my body so he can see I’m only in a towel.
“Woah, woah, woah,” he chuckles, “that was way too fast, I barely got a glimpse.”
“Look who’s all confident over video,” I tease. His cheeks flush with color and it makes my cock twitch; I love that Ihave this effect on him. “Why don’t you show me what you’re wearing, and I’ll give you another look.”
“I’m fully clothed so pretty sure I’ve got the better deal here,” he laughs.
