The weekend was amazing. Matthew moved in, Dylan’s dinner went well, we hung out and most importantly, we were all together under one roof. We have class today but get a break mid-morning until after lunch. It’s a beautiful day, so Dylan, Ford, and I are meeting out in the courtyard to hang out. Dylan already scoped out the perfect tree for us to have a picnic under. She got out of class before us so she went ahead and set up, not wanting to lose the prime spot she found.
When I step out of my class, Ford’s leaning against the wall, phone in hand as his fingers fly across the screen.
“Hey, man, I feel so special being escorted by you.TheFord Nickels, third best lacrosse player at CSU.” I put my hand over my heart and bat my eyes like the stick bunnies do. But Ford doesn’t smile. Instead, his lips are clenched in a tight line and his brows are furrowed.
Something’s wrong.
I know, without having to ask, it has to do with Dylan.
He pushes off the wall and slides his phone into his pocket. “I’m sick of stupidity,” he snarls, confirming my thoughts.
“What now?” I already know the answer, but the old saying races through my head and I want to have verbal confirmation of my assumption before making an ass of myself.
“Some of the players are still giving Dylan a hard time. Snickering and making comments about how her pussy must be gold-plated to con a coach into giving her a position on the team. It seems like they’re totally blind to her skills.” He grips the strap of his book bag, pulling it back up on his shoulder.
“It’ll calm down. The more we ignore it, the less it will happen. All they want is to rile her up, make her want to quit. But our girl is too strong for that. She’s a fighter.”
As we step out of the building into the common area, I see a few of the guys from the team standing around the tree we picked. I can’t see past them, but I bet Pickle is standing toe to toe with them.
We can’t hear them from the distance we’re at, so we move swiftly across the field. Ford pulls out his phone and turns on the camera. Guess he wants some proof of the abuse she’s getting from the team just in case we need it. Smart, and I’m a little pissed at myself for not thinking of it.
“Come on, girl. Let us have a taste. We’ll even make it easy for you on the team,” one of the players says. I can’t make out who it is from the back since he’s wearing a hat. But if I have to take a guess, it’s one of the reserve players, Patrick. He’s a fucking cunt.
“Sorry, but you wouldn’t know what to do with me. I can’t help that your skills are subpar. Maybe if you spent more time practicing than trying to harass me, you’d actually see some game time in the future.”That’s my girl, standing up for herself.
We’re behind them now; none of them have noticed our arrival, not even Dylan.
“More like, if you sleep with the coach, he’ll give you anything you want. What gets me is why Coach Woosley is letting this new washed-up hack run the show. He’s smarter than that. Never thought I’d see the day he let a girl lead him astray. He’s going to be the laughing stock.” Patrick opens his mouth again and the two first string players, Alex and Lance, nod their heads in agreement. I thought they were better than that; guess I was wrong. They’re the type who voice their opinions behind the backs of others they think are stronger than them. Two-faced bitches are what they are.
“Seems the five of you have a lot to say. But why not voice it directly to Coach during one of our practices? Instead, you want to corner Dylan when she’s alone, or better yet, gossip in groups like a bunch of kids.” All five of them turn when they hear my voice, and I catch a glimpse of my girl finally as she peeks between their bodies. Ford takes that opportunity to push through them, and wraps his arms around her, crashing his lips to hers.
“This is your final warning. Keep harassing my girlfriend, you're going to have to deal with me.” I step up closer into Patrick’s personal space, daring him to do something. My hand curls into a fist as it hangs at my side, itching to punch this fucker in the face.
“Looks to me like she’s dating Ford.” The idiot Patrick glances over his shoulder, looking at my two best friends kissing, before turning back to me and smirking.
My eyes linger on Ford and Dylan a little longer than they should, reveling in how hot she looks. I love that my best friend can make her so happy and forget what was happening just moments before.
“She is my girl, and his. Got a problem with it?” I give him a moment, but he doesn’t say anything. “Didn’t think so. Seems like you only have power when you’re trying to fuck with awoman. Get the fuck out of my face and away from our girl.” I shove past them, knowing if I stay there, I’ll punch him in the fucking face. I need Dylan in my arms right now. This violent, angry person isn’t who I want to be. I can’t wait for practice and the chance to face him head on.
Patrick’s friends pull him away and I can hear them running their mouths as they go, pissing me off more.
“Ignore them. They’re just idiots. You need to stay calm and not let them get to you.” She pulls out of Ford’s arms and takes one of each of our hands in hers, pulling us down on the blanket. “Both of you need to keep your cool, because you don’t need to get kicked off the team.”
“We just don’t like how they talk to you. What they’re implying about not only Matthew, but Coach Woosley. Wonder what he would think if he heard what they said,” Ford grumbles.
“I just think you’re hangry. Here, let's eat.” She opens the bag of sandwiches she got from the sub shop just outside the student union.
I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Matthew and tell him what just happened and that Ford will be sending a video.
“Thank you.” Ford takes the sandwich from her hand and unwraps it, taking a bite.
“I’m more worried about Matthew than anything else. He’s their coach and the way they’re speaking about him hurts me. I don’t want this position to be taken from him because of me. If he can’t control his team, then the school and Coach Woosley may rethink hiring him.”
My phone vibrates, and I look down at it.
Matthew: Thank you. And let Dylan know not to worry. I’ll handle this. Practice today should be fun.
“I wouldn’t worry about Matthew. I don’t think we’re giving him enough credit and he may already have a plan for this situation.” Ford quirks his head, raising his eyebrow, and I give him a wink. He smiles and I know he’s picking up on what I’m saying.
