“Hold on. You slept with Sarah Draven?” I ask again.
Emilio sighs and Roman fights a grin. “What baby Henderson left out is, there was a party. I was drunk. That basket of crazy over there took advantage of me.”
I snort. “Riiiight.”
“Hey, at least I learn from my mistakes. You’re still sleeping with this asshole.”
Roman shoots him a glare and Kasey snickers. I give Roman a quick kiss on the cheek and his glower instantly softens. “I happen to like this asshole,” I tell him and everyone else at the table makes gagging sounds.
I roll my eyes and steal a fry off Kasey’s tray only to throw it at Emilio who somehow manages to catch it in his mouth.
“So, the game…?” Emilio says, trying to shift the focus off himself. “Who are you going with, because you can’t show up alone.”
I roll my eyes but notice Roman scowling. I guess he hadn’t considered that. “I’ll be fine. Nothing has happened since the whole bathroom incident and nothing is going to happen. You three went all psycho on Silvia and she’s been avoiding me ever since.” Every head turns to look where she’s currently seated, alone and in a far corner picking at her lunch with a look of complete misery on her face.
All three give me smug smiles. As soon as Roman learned Silvia was behind the attack he went all caveman and pulled in every guy on the football team to make sure that her status as an outcast stuck. She’s a social pariah now. I almost feel bad. Her own friends have abandoned her and the school pretends she doesn’t exist. People will walk into her without batting an eyelash. I noticed in second period even our teacher ignores her. I have no idea how the Devils managed that but they did.
“No way.” Roman shakes his head. “You can’t show up alone. All three of us will be on the field. We won’t be able to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection—”
“I can go with you,” Kasey says. All eyes swing toward her.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “You hate football.” I know because she’s whined on at least four separate occasions about how boring it is and how stupid it is that the school treats the players like gods. Kasey isn’t fond of athletes in general, which has made her little addition to our group pretty interesting, to say the least.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I like hanging out with you. Besides”—the corner of her mouth lifts into a smirk as she turns her attention toward Dominique—“then I can watch him throw an interception and give him shit for it.”
Dom glowers and our entire table erupts into a fit of laughter.
“Not fucking likely,” he deadpans.
I don’t know what’s going on with those two. Likely nothing because Dom will be eighteen in a few short months and Kasey’s only a freshman, but she seems intent on getting under his skin any chance she gets, despite the fact that he usually ignores her.
The bell rings signaling the end of lunch and we make our way out of the cafeteria. Roman stops me just outside my third-period class and plants a lingering kiss on my lips that leaves me breathless.
“Don’t be late tonight,” he tells me, nipping my lower lip.
“Are you suddenly worried I won’t show up?” I ask, fingering my bracelet.
He smirks. “Nah, I know you’ll be there, but it never hurts to have some reassurances.”
I tug my bracelet off and take his hand in mine, trying it around his wrist. “Consider yourself reassured. This is important to me. You can give it back to me after the game.”
He kisses me deep and slow, leaving me breathless before walking backward toward his own class. “Later, baby.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Roman
Friday night came too fucking fast. I’m sitting in the locker room and can barely hear what coach is saying as he gives his little pep talk before we rush out onto the field. I tighten my laces, my gaze meeting Dom’s. We nod, both ready to lay it all out on the field. Tonight’s a big night. If we win, it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Coach drones on and on about how proud he is of each of us. How we’ve played an incredible season. And then he yells at us not to fuck it up.
Emilio elbows me in the ribs, a grin on his face as he sucks on apalerindas—a tamarind-flavored sucker—his game day ritual. Personally, I can’t stand the things, but Emilio’s an addict and always has a few in his bag.
I bounce my leg, waiting for coach to hurry up so we can get out on the field. Tonight the Devils play the Saints and I’m determined put those fuckers through hell.
The stadium lights light up the field and hundreds of people in the bleachers as I jog beside my team. I scan the crowd, not seeing Allie yet, but I know she’ll be here. Seats are packed, everyone on the home side decked out in red and black with devil horns on their heads.
I make sure Allie’s bracelet is tucked beneath my glove before following the other guys to the center of the field. Dom is our captain and quarterback and all eyes are on him as we huddle up and run through the details of our first play.
