I turn my head to look at him as he smugly points and laughs. “Oh, we will take the brunette too; what a little spitfire. You ready, darling? Cause I’ll give you something to spit on! I love a lady who has some spunk in her—mainly mine.” He continues to yell so the girls can hear him. “Hey, blondie, I just wanted to thank you. The Raptors choked without their famous running back; well done, thanks for getting him shot,” he adds, yelling so everyone can hear his arrogance.
I step into his space, blocking his view of Shelby and shoving hard into his chest with both my palms. “Don’t fucking talk to her!” He stumbles back but doesn’t flinch as he steps back into my face. “You got something to say, you can fucking say it to me,” I snarl out.
“How protective of you, Harrison, are you fucking her too?” He laughs, turning to look at his team standing behind him. His head cranes back to look at me. “You fuck everything else, wouldn’t surprise me if you fuck your best friend’s girl. Not that I would blame you,” he says, looking back at Shelby and shooting her a wink, his fingers wiggling from around the head of his bottle in a wave.
I grab him by the collar, and he arches his chin, smirking back at my anger. “Touch it, Harrison. Feel the jersey, that’s championship material, enjoy it!”
I hear the muffled sound of footsteps rush beside me, but I’m so livid I can’t take my eyes off Cole.
“Oh, here comes the cavalry,” Luke jests. He flicks his eyes to my left. “Can you control your quarterback? He has somerage issues he needs to sort out.” He looks down at his jersey, trying to smooth it out around the fist of material I have balled up in my hands.
“How about you and your team get the fuck out of here!” I hear Seth’s deep voice say from beside me, and my tension eases knowing he has my back. If you want anyone beside you in a fight, it’s a six-foot-five defensive linebacker who knows how to fight.
I let go of his jersey, pushing him backward, harder this time, and sending him into one of his friends.
He steps immediately back into my face. “Watch it, Harrison,” he grounds out, straightening his jersey. “We were just about to go. Hey, blondie,” he yells over my shoulder, grabbing at his dick. “Wanna come fuck some real football talent?”
Nope, just nope!
My clenched fist flies into his jaw, hitting him perfectly, the bottle slipping from his hand and smashing to the sidewalk. He reacts quickly, swiping for me, but I’m quicker, landing another punch before his next swing connects with my eye.
It’s on.
His team rushes forward, as does mine. We have them out numbered, but it doesn’t stop them. It’s massive and everyone is all-in. Alcohol-fueled, ego-filled bodies connect and fall to the ground as we continue to punch the shit out of each other. Arms flailing in the air, we end up in the grass, wrestling, and delivering blow after blow. Small groups break apart and people scramble to defend their friends and teammates. Fists fly through the air mixed with blood, sweat, and groans. I can hear ladies screaming and men yelling as more and more people get caught up in the violence. I grunt and groan, wrestling with Cole on the grass, I feel a kick to my ribs, but then that person gets quickly pulled back by one of my teammates.
I smell sweat and taste blood, minutes passing before the sound of sirens penetrates the air. Flashing streaks of red and blue light up the black sky. It has Cole’s teammates pulling at him, while others clutch at my shoulders, prying us apart. Luke is dragged toward the convoy of cars, words and bottles are thrown as I sit on the grass dragging in deep breaths.
Leaning to one side, my body burns in pain as I watch the blood fall from my face. It hurts to breathe, and I think my left eye is swollen shut. People are talking to me, but I have no fucking idea what they are saying. I can barely comprehend the scene around me as I scan the area.
Shelby’s face is tear streaked as her head rests against Christian’s chest. He comforts her, his lip busted and blood trailing down his chin, and I hope his shoulder is okay. Walsh looks like he copped a few good punches to his face, and what is left of Seth’s shirt barely hangs off one shoulder. Jason, Reilly, Lewis, Mitch, and the rest of the guys look no better as partygoers rush around and check everyone over.
“Harrison!” the officer says, walking over to me. “What the fuck happened?”
“Officer Case,” I half smile, wiping the blood from my mouth with my thumb as I gingerly stand, one of my friends grabbing me by my arm for support.
“No idea what you’re talking about, just a quiet get together with a couple of friends,” I say, shooting him a smile which probably resembles The Joker fromThe Dark Knight.
He raises his eyebrows at me. Everyone in town knows Officer Case, and he knows all of us. A big football fan, past Raptors player, the town cop, now in his mid-fifties, and has seen one too many donuts. Coach always makes a big effort to get him tickets to our games, mainly because he knows of the shit we get up to and the trouble he gets us out of.
I feel my face start to throb; my body hunches and I’m unable to stand properly. “The Cyclones thought they would come say hi.” I rest my hands on my knees, taking a few deep breaths.
“Great, just what we need,” he sighs. “You guys all good?” he asks.
“Just peachy,” I say, bringing my ripped shirt to my face to wipe at some blood.
“I’m not writing this up; just go home.”
Thanks, Coach.Although we all know how much any past Raptor player hates the Cyclones; our rivalry isn’t anything new in these parts. He turns and addresses the crowd. “Okay, this party is over! Does anyone need to go to the hospital?”
The crowd grumbles and groans, but nobody says anything.
“I’ll be escorting this lot,” he thumbs the Cyclones, “out of my fucking town.”
“Thanks, Case.”
I watch him talk to the other cops as they jump back in their cars.
My night started off promising…and then went to absolute shit.
