The pressure of his weight. The warmth of his breath. The sound I made. God, that sound. That unbelievable, humiliating sound that gave me away more than my body ever could.
A strong shoulder bumps mine. I jolt.
“Beck,” Jay Norman says gently. “You good?”
No. I am absolutely not good.
“Fine,” I lie, and quickly turn away. “Just a bit of a headache.”
He gives me a look suggesting he knows there’s more to it, but he leaves it alone. His best friend Aaron calls him away, and I drift towards my roommates, needing a distraction. They’re huddled near the lockers with Pierce Jamison, who is being predictably douchey about something.
“I’m surprised they even let him enroll here, much less gave him a scholarship. I thought Huntston had better standards than that,” Pierce says loudly. Everything this douche says is loud and pompous. “But I suppose brawn and a few good stats are enough to overlook the stench of cheap beer and stale cigarettes if it gets us another championship.”
Cade snorts, but Fish doesn’t look amused.
I lean against the lockers, arms crossed. “What are you talking about?”
Pierce puffs up like he has exclusive information. Of course he does. Guys like him live to gossip. “The new guy, Brody Miller. I know him from high school. Grew up on the wrong end of town, if you know what I mean. Total trailer trash.”
Cade winces. Fish whispers under his breath, “Really?”
“What?” Pierce shrugs. “You can say it right in front of him, and he just laughs. He knows it’s true.”
I doubt that, but I keep my mouth shut, saving every scrap of information for the potential threat. I need to know who Brody is. What he wants. Whether he’s planning to ruin me. Or how I can ruin him first.
“Get this—There were rumors that he was gay, too…”
“Dude.” Fish’s voice sounds like he’s warning Pierce, which gets my attention. “I don’t want to hear that shit.”
My shoulders are stiff. I’m not sure what to think about Fish’s reaction to that bit of gossip, but I wonder if it’s true…
Before I can process Pierce’s information, I hear whistling. A low, deliberately cheerful whistle to the tune ofIt’s A SmallWorld. My neck aches with how stiffly I’m holding my posture, and a cold chill trickles over my skin as he strolls up behind me.
Brody has his hands tucked behind his back like a child feigning innocence. He smiles too widely when he reaches us.
“Speak of the Devil,” Pierce sneers.
Fish elbows him. “Hey Brody, meet our other roommate–"
“Lincoln Beckett,” he finishes for him, eyes locked on mine as he reaches out a hand to shake. “Fancy meeting you again.”
I bristle immediately and stare at his hand like it’s a loaded gun. My skin prickles hot and cold at once.
“Nice to meet you, I guess,” I say curtly, ignoring his proffered hand.
Turning away from him and my friends’ curious expressions, I make excuses about needing to tend to my captain’s duties and walk towards the offices.
When I chance a quick glance over my shoulder, I see Brody studying me with a confused expression, maybe curiosity with a tinge of amusement.
This can’t really be happening.
Coach McCoy stands over the digital scale with his arms crossed, face blank and stern. He seems unimpressed with the results of the first team weigh-in so far. Hopefully, he’ll chill out now that he’s made his way through the freshman and sophomorewrestlers and is starting with the veteran athletes who are less likely to have slacked off all summer.
Marcy, our athletic trainer, stands next to Coach McCoy with a clipboard, calling each of us forward to assess our weight class potential. The team stands around half naked, waiting for their turn to either be reamed or teased by Coach. The majority of us left to be weighed aren’t nervous the way the freshmen were, although Pierce looks like he might have tried sweating off some pounds this morning considering he showed up huffing and wearing too many layers. Most of us will stay in the same weight class we were last year or move up.
I’m a little jittery, but not because of my weight. I’ve kept on top of my strict diet and exercise regimen all summer. My father wouldn’t have let me slack even if I wanted to, not that I ever do. I didn’t sleep well again last night and can’t seem to kick the throbbing headache that’s been bothering me since yesterday.
Once I’ve shown the underclassmen where to go for the next stage of our first team physicals, I pull off my t-shirt and step in line.
