“Fuck you,” Isla hisses. “Fuck. You.”
“You could,” Margo coos, cocking her head to the side. “But that won’t get you any further ahead. After all, I don’t have any connections to help you out.” She shrugs teasingly. “You could say I’m just like whoever your real father probably is. A nobody.”
“Margo, enough.” It’s Tripp who’s barking at them now, yet neither looks his way.
“That is too fucking far, Margo!” one of the girls who followed them outside yells from behind Isla.
For a moment, Isla’s face flashes white, and anger is replaced with pain. But the second Margo turns her back to her and starts to walk away, Isla’s hand reaches out, and she grabs a handful of her hair, yanking her backward.
“No, you don’t,” Isla hisses, pulling her closer to her before spinning her around and shoving her against the building. “You don’t get to talk shit about my fucking family and walk away with your nose held high and your tampon-filled ass swaying.” Isla’s small body slams Margo harder against the door, keeping her arm across her chest. “Talk about me again and see what happens, you fucking bitch.”
“Isla, that’s enough,” Cade says, but this time, he doesn’t give her the opportunity to ignore him because he grabs her and drags her along with him until she’s not near Margo. Looking at Isla’s friends, he points inside the building. “Go. You’re not needed out here.”
Reluctantly, they scurry away, and I stand here, unsure of what the fuck to even do.
“What the fuck is going on with you? Fighting? Are you serious, kid? I’ve known you for most of your life, and I’ve never seen you even raise your voice—besides at Saint, and he usually deserves it.”
She doesn’t answer before the women’s hockey coach pushes through the door, looking from Margo to Isla before eventually stepping toward Tripp.
“What the hell happened?” she growls. “Tell me I heard it wrong. Tell me that two of my players weren’t actually fighting at an event.”
“Seems to be something in the air tonight,” Tripp utters, sighing. “I think they all need to just cool off. Some shit was said tonight, and tempers flared. I mean, hell, we still have to deal with our players who did the same thing.” His eyes cut to mine. “Except at least yours had the decency to bring it outside.”
“My bad,” I mutter.
“I’m too fucking tired for this tonight,” Coach Sanchez says, staring at Margo. “What’s your beef with Isla? Is it because we chose her to fill in for Jazzy? Because guess what, Pickering. That’s life! She’s the better choice! Work hard, and maybe next year, she’ll be benched, and you’ll be the one out there. But you can’t act like a damn spoiled brat when shit doesn’t go your way.”
“Sorry, Coach,” Margo somehow musters up, looking down. “Can I go?”
Sanchez seems deep in thought before, finally, she smiles. “Yep, you can go. You can walk your ass back to your dorm.” She looks at Isla. “And seeing as your place is the opposite direction, I shouldn’t have to worry about any more catfights tonight, right?”
Both girls keep their gaze on the ground as they mutter, “Right,” both trying to keep their tones respectful.
“Good then. Off you go. I’ll see you both at five a.m. sharp in my office tomorrow. And wear some clothes you don’t care about because you’ll be cleaning gum off the arena seats.” She winks. “May get a little gross.”
Sighing, they each head out in opposite directions, and even though I keep my eyes on the wild-haired blonde, she never once looks my way. Still, I watch her disappear into the darkness, wishing I could follow her home—even if she doesn’t realize it.
Coach Sanchez pinches the bridge of her nose before looking at Huff and Talmage. “I need to go fill in the other coaches on what happened. Get home safe.”
“You too,” Huff mutters as Talmage holds his hand up in a wave, and then their attention is back on me once again.
“We’ve got to go find Leeman,” Coach Talmage says before jerking his chin up. “Did you drive here?”
Shaking my head once, I exhale. “Nope. Rode with West.”
Huff and Talmage share a look before Huff smirks at me. “Good. You won’t be needing a ride home.” He nods toward the road. “Get walking, boy. We’ll see you at five a.m. too. I don’t think I need to give you the spiel that Sanchez gave the girls. You already know to wear some shit clothes for the bitch work we’re about to have you do.”
Sighing, I nod. “See you in the morning.”
And then I turn away from them and start walking.
They might not realize it … but they just sent me walking into the darkness in the same direction the girl I fuck my hand to daily just went.
And here they are, thinking they are punishing me. Pfft.
SIX
ISLA
