That’s unfortunate. Jeff continues to glare at me as we move onto the field in the same direction. Reeve falls in stride beside me while Greer runs off ahead without looking at me. Great.
“That was a surprise,” Reeve says, eyeing me.
I sigh. “You understand why I didn’t say something, right?”
“Oh definitely.” We stop just beyond the step ladders to grab a couple balls.
We head for the edge of the field and begin juggling, incorporating our less dominant feet into the mix. I appreciate Reeve sticking by me, even if we don’t speak for a while. Juggling was always one of my favorite things to practice as a kid. It was fun trying to keep it in the air, so I’m already decently good with my left foot.
This time, when I feel I’m being watched, it’s not just from the bench where Alka is. I glance up and don’t have to look far to see Jeff scowling at me. He turns away, and I roll my eyes.
I didn’t think he’d be upset. I mean, why would he be?
“He’ll get over it,” Reeve says, as if he’s reading my mind.
“You think so?”
“I bet he doesn’t even know why he’s mad.”
Greer glances at me. I’m relieved when he offers me a smile,though he turns his attention away from me almost right away. “What about Greer?”
“I’m sure he’s just jealous that you’re sleeping with the hot coach,” Reeve says, amused. “Hewillget over it. Probably pretty quickly. I’m sure if Booker responds to his message, it’ll distract him and he’ll forget about it.”
I sigh. “I didn’t think either of them would respond like that,” I say. “Not that Greer had much of a response, but it’s definitely not typical that he runs by without looking at me.”
“If they want to be babies, let them. You still have thehot coach.”
I laugh and glance in Alka’s direction. I don’t watch him for long though. One, because I miss the ball and have to track it down again while Reeve laughs. And two, the more I look at Alka, the more Jeff glares at me.
He’s surrounded by a couple others, and none of them look very happy. In fact, now that I’m looking, they’re all glaring at me.
This is going to be a very long year.
CHAPTER 31
ROUX
Calculus is difficult to listen to on a good day, but today, I’m really freaking tired. I’ve been really tired for the past week since Alka announced that we’re seeing each other. Jeff has been really shitty. I want to say I’m surprised, but I don’t know that I am. There’ve been comments that I recall now that maybe I should have questioned before.
Yesterday was the worst. The starting line for the scrimmage on Friday was posted, and Jeff isn’t starting. He’s back up. Iamstarting, which, of course, he had a lot to mutter about.
He stopped passing to me in practice. On the field, he pretends I don’t exist. He doesn’t talk to me in the locker room. I exist there, but his glares and muttered comments make me wish I didn’t.
No one’s been speaking much to me, including Greer and Reeve, though they’re not nearly as hostile. In fact, I think I receive sympathetic looks from both, though neither offer me their support.
Dorian shuts the comments down and calls out anyone glaring at me, but I think he’s doing it because that’s what he’s supposed to do. Not because he wants to or doesn’t feel the same way they do.
I’m not a quitter. I can’t be bullied into leaving the team because some kids are upset. That’s the reason I’m still playing, but honestly, I’m tired. I’m over it. I’m not sure this is worth it in the end. I’m under no delusion that I’m good enough to even be considered for a draft, so I have no intention of pursuing soccer professionally.
So why am I putting myself through this? Does it really matter if I’m the one who quits to make it stop? I promised myself that this year would be different. No Trevor. No looking over my shoulder waiting for him.
Okay, I didn’t predict the reason that this year would be different would be because Trevor’s dead, but still. That still counts for something. And honestly, without all this noise, I’m happy. I have not one boyfriend but two that I’m totally crazy about. We have plans for the future. This isn’t a fling; it’s meaningful!
Why doesn’t that count for something?
My phone pings, and although I try not to take it out when I’m in class, I’ve already missed half the lecture since I’m stuck in my head on this endless loop about what to do with soccer. I pull it out. There’s a notification from the Pride Room app telling me I have a message.
I don’t get a lot of messages. My stomach flips, unsure whether I even want to look. With a huff, I swipe my screen on and open the chat. It’s from Reeve.
