“Me?” Blake frowns. “Why?”
“Because I don’t wanna feel like this again,” I whine, feeling my head spin. “It’s an important job, Blake.”
He snorts. “You’re making yourself sound like a recovering alcoholic, and I’m your sponsor.”
If I thought drinking would actually keep my hands off Blake, I’d probably end up one. But as memories of last night flood back, I recall forcing the poor guy to dance with me. There were hands on his body, but at least nothing inappropriate. I think?
Blake heads back to the bleachers, and I jog over to the bench.
Mickey is there, and I’ve been doing my best to stay away from him like yesterday.
“What the fuck ishedoing here?” he mutters, taking a drink of water. “He’s following you around like a pathetic little puppy.”
Snatching the bottle from him, I crush it in my hand, nostrils flaring as water spills over me.
“I meant what I said,” I growl. “Don’t touch him, don’t speak to him, don’t even fucking look at him,” I warn. “He is none ofyour business. And if you don’t fuck off, I’ll make itmy businessto fucking end you, Mickey.”
“Everything okay, boys?” Brody asks, stepping over to us.
Mickey glares at me like he wants to murder me, but he got the hint. I might not use my connections with people in this school for myself, but if it means keeping Blake safe, I will.
“Everything’s just fucking peachy,” he spits before turning around and jogging to the field.
Like they’re unable to resist, my eyes flick up to the stands, finding Blake watching. He looks worried. But he has nothing to be worried about. So I give him a big smile and a wink.
It seems to relax him. For now.
Thankfully, practice is almost over, and then we can eat. God, I’m starving even though my stomach is protesting. That's enough motivation to push me forward.
Chapter 10
Blake
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I’m worried for Cooper. The poor guy looks like death. I don’t think it’s healthy to puke the number of times he did today. I guess it’s not just a hangover that's making him sick, but the fact that his coach makes them do some insane drills.
I might not be a football fan, and I hate the players even more, but even I have to admit, it takes skill to do what they can do. If it were me, I’d have dropped dead after a few seconds.
“I’m good.” Cooper groans, leaning down, hands on his knees. “Just give me a moment.”
“Damn, Coop.” Brody, the assistant coach, chuckles, clapping Cooper on the back and making him groan. “I thought you were going to pass out. I’m impressed you made it through practice."
“Don’t be so confident that I still won’t.”
My brow furrows, and my worry builds. “Here.” I give Cooper what's left of my water bottle. “Sit down for a minute before you end up on the ground. I can assure you, I wouldn’t be any help lifting your body.”
Cooper groans again, straightening up and taking the water bottle. “Thanks.” I follow him as he goes to sit on the bench. He takes a few sips, then dumps the water right on his face before shaking it out.
“Hey.” I laugh as droplets of water hit me in the face. “Watch it.”
“My bad, Blakey.” He chuckles, then proceeds to do it again.
“What are you, a dog?” I roll my eyes.
“Woof woof.” He grins, then winks.
That wink. Why is he always winking at me? And why do I not hate it?
Any time I’ve seen someone wink, they never pull it off, at least in my opinion. It always comes off as creepy or corny, fluttering like in movies. Half the time, I think someone has something in their eye.
