I laugh into my sports drink and finish the bottle. “Can’t help it. I was just thinking about this real pretty girl I know.”
Cade starts to nod, but stops. I chuckle, winking at Beck as I walk past him and out of the locker room. I hear Cade’s confused questions as I’m pushing through the door. “Wait. What did he say?”
I’m almost expecting the sharp push that comes from behind me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Beck tries to look stern, but I can tell from the twitching at the corner of his mouth and the pink flush of his cheeks that he doesn’t hate it.
“What? Should I have told him about how that pretty girl got down on her knees for me and?—”
Beck smacks a hand over my mouth and whisper-shouts, trying to hold back a laugh. “Shut it! Shut up!”
“Okay, okay! Geesh, Becky. Who knew you were such a prude?”
Beck rolls his eyes, and I snicker as we make our way to the main gym floor. The other teams are each set up in opposite corners of the gym. Today we’re hosting three teams, UNC, Greensboro, and Davidson College. The wrestlers from Davidson College are set up closest to us.
I hear the snide laughter before I register who it’s from. And in the few seconds it takes to look over my shoulder, my good mood plummets.
Pierce is halfway across the divide between us and the Davidson team, chatting and laughing with yet another familiar face from my past. Gregg Thompson was another rich douche who followed Pierce and his brother around like they were holding court. And if I remember correctly, he was one of the jesters. Gregg loved to play stupid pranks, trip me in the halls, and insult my family as loudly, and publicly, as possible. The more people around to hear his bullshit, the more he got off on his own sick humor.
There’s some more laughter, and a few of the underclassmen who still follow Pierce around join them. I don’t miss the way they’re jeering at me as they snicker and whisper.
Beck snaps at Pierce to knock it off and take the meet seriously, and Sean calls the underclassmen over to him to discuss some last-minute strategy before the first matches begin. Pierce shoots a look back to Gregg that I don’t like at all. It’s like I can feel things going sideways before it even starts.
CHAPTER 21
BECK
I don’t know who this douchebag is, but I’m glad I’m the one paired with him instead of Brody. There was something about the tension in his shoulders the moment he looked over and saw this guy palling around with Pierce Jamison that concerned me. I know he doesn’t like Pierce, and for good fucking reason, so this guy probably deserves the beatdown I’m giving him so far this match.
The start of the third period was an aggressive grapple, but we’ve found ourselves on our feet. I’m locked in, confident and controlled, knowing that I only need to keep him from closing the gap in points to take this as my third win for today.
My opponent flicks his eyes up over my shoulder. I take advantage of his momentary distraction and get him in a near-fall, but he recovers before I can get him down. He’s pissed that he can’t get control of me, and despite being a decent opponent because I haven’t been able to pin him down yet, I’m running this match.
Gregg leans in. I’m anticipating the shit talk. This is how it always happens. They have to lean in close enough so the refsand coaches can’t hear it, but that’s not what he does. This bastard pitches his voice loud enough to be heard.
“So, Beckett,” Gregg says, mouth curling in a cruel smirk. “I heard you’re Miller’s new butt buddy. Which one of you bends over and takes it. I bet it’s you. You look like you’d spread real easy for him.”
For a moment, the gym falls into a strange hush. A breath of silence long enough for everyone nearby to register what he said. There are some gasps. A few choked laughs.
The loudest sound, though, is a buzzing that starts in the back of my head and gets louder until I can’t hear anything else. I freeze.
In slow motion, I stumble back and lose my footing. Gregg doesn’t come after me to take advantage because the ref steps between us immediately. There’s a whistle, I think, but it’s muffled. He signals, and with one hand in the middle of Gregg’s chest, gestures to the Davidson coach. The Davidson coach steps forward to grab Gregg by the arm, but movement to my left has me turning towards the bench. My teammates look pissed, their mouths open and yelling something, or shaking their heads, but my attention is directed behind them.
At my father.
My father, who stands up, locks his eyes on me long enough to show his disappointment. No, his disgust.
Coach McCoy takes my arm and directs me off the mats, his face red as his booming voice yells something at Gregg and the Davidson coach. A few of my teammates come forward. Brody comes forward.
I back away and shrug everyone off, lifting my chin.
I’m fine. That guy was an idiot. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m fine.
I’m fine.
The team buys it. Coach McCoy buys it. I don’t look at Brody at all.
