She tried to act cool, laugh it off, with that sarcastic little smile she wears like armor.But I saw her fingers twist in her lap.I heard how her voice went flat when she said we needed to back off.For now.
And that’s the part that gutted me because I’d already been imagining what I’d do next.Where I’d take her on our next date.How I’d make her come apart again, slower this time.No rush.Just her spread out for me, mine to ruin all over again.
But she was scared, so I swallowed it.Nodded even though every cell in my body screamed not to.Now I’m stuck in this in-between hell, walking past her in the halls and pretending she’s not all I fucking want.All I see.All I need.
There haven’t been any whispers yet.No sly comments.No one in the locker room smirking or asking if she moaned my name.Not even Jace, who usually can’t shut the fuck up when there’s gossip in the air.If he knew, he’d already be printing flyers about the fucking bet I never should have made in the first place.His group chats would be full of GIFs, dick jokes, and “did you hear?”energy.
If anyone says one word that turns her into a punchline, I’ll break their jaw for it.I don’t care who it is.I’ll knock out teeth before I let anyone talk about her like she’s some easy fuck in a library stall.
Tara Evans with her tight ponytail.Always sipping on some overpriced iced latte, face set in that bored, holier-than-thou expression.The girl who acts as if she’s above everything but still drags your name through the dirt without lifting a finger.She is judgmental as hell and acts too good for gossip until it’s juicy enough to give her a sense of authority.
She’s been talked about in the locker room before.A few of the guys have bragged about finger-fucking her in dark corners at parties, passing her around like a trophy.
So if it was Tara who saw us, maybe for once she’s sticking up for Sam.Maybe she’s keeping her judgy mouth shut because she knows what it’s like to be the girl everyone talks about.The one who’s only relevant when she’s being fucked.
Or could it be she’s just biding her time, waiting until she needs a distraction from the rumors that float around her.
But if she really lets it slip, that’s when I’ll have a serious problem.
This isn’t just some hallway rumor.This is ours.And I’ll defend it.I’ll defend Sam.Every messy, fragile, beautiful part of her.
If Tara says one word, I swear to God I’ll make sure she regrets it.
Coach Reynolds steps onto the field first, whistle already in hand.The rest of the team follows behind him, all noise and swagger—shoulders bumping, laughs too loud, the usual reckless energy they bring everywhere they go.
It used to settle into me easily.It used to feel like mine.Now it rubs me the wrong way.It doesn’t sit right in my chest.It’s too loud.It doesn’t match the way everything inside me has shifted.
“Reece,” Coach barks, walking over as I finish my second lap.Sweat’s already soaking my back, my shirt drenched, but I keep moving.“You’re here early again.”
His tone is rough, but I see how his eyes catch on the dirt beneath my cleats.The way he nods once, proud without saying a word.He knows I’m all in this time.No skipping reps.No half-assing warm-ups or sneaking off early to chase a girl or punch someone in the parking lot.I’m showing up.Earning it.Bleeding for it.Every damn step.
We hit drills hard.Sprint sets first, back and forth, sharp turns, legs burning.Then tackling practice.Coach is pushing us harder than usual, shouting from across the field, voice cutting through the air.No room to breathe.No room to think.
Good.I don’t want to think.
I want the pain.I want the bruises.I crave the ache in my muscles and the fire in my chest.Every time I hit the grass, I see a different face.One of the boys in the locker room cracking a joke.Tara fucking Evans smirking behind her cup.I hit harder.I hit angrier.
That’s the fucked-up part.I’ve never protected anyone before.Not unless they wore my jersey colors.
But Red’s not just anyone.She’s the girl I’ve been chasing without realizing I was running.The girl I’ve loved in silence.In glances.In every reckless move I made just to feel something real.And I didn’t even see it until she pulled away.
Coach blows the whistle and I drop into formation, heart pounding, dirt on my knees.I run hard as if it’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.
Dylan fucking James.Quarterback.Star boy.Walks around with a crown on his head and a hard-on for his own reflection.He always has a crowd, always high on praise and that dick-swinging swagger he probably jerks off to at night.
He shouts something across the field just as I finish the drill, his voice full of smug bullshit, fishing for laughs and throwing bait to his little fan club.
I don’t accept it.I push past him forcefully, catching his shoulder.
He stumbles, catches himself, releases a laugh that’s all bark, no bite.But I notice it.The flicker in his eyes.The one-second pause before the mask falls back into place.
Cocky fuck thinks he’s invincible.Maybe he is, when his entire offensive surrounds him, guiding every move.But remove the blockers, peel away the ego, and all that’s left is a loudmouth riding on everyone else’s effort.So what if the guy can throw a ball?He wouldn’t last a second without his wall of protection.He’d be on the ground before he could blink.
I don’t pause to feed it.I’m not here for his mouth.
He’ll get what he deserves.
Just not today.
