Everest looks exactly the same. Sandy blond hair, perfectly styled back from his angled face. I know from previous verbal sparring that when he smirks, his incisors are sharply pointed. I see the appeal, but I’m not going to simp at his feet like all of the other girls do. I’d rather bring him down a peg by wounding his prestigious pride.
Storming across the field, ignoring the play happening behind me, I stop right in front of the table and slam my hands on the surface.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” I seethe. Everest’s green eyes drift lazily upwards, the obnoxious lights catching the flecks of brown set within them. His gaze roams over my face, not a trace of fuck’s given in his expression. I scoff out a laugh, my fingers twitching to strangle the life out of his throat. He’s high as fuck.
“If you’re looking to try-out, you’ll need to get in line,” he drawls. I snatch the clipboard out from beneath his hand and toss it across the grass. It was that or slap him across the face with it.
“I know you recognize me, asshole.” There’s a beat of stillness, the play happening on the field having ceased and everyone in the bleachers holding their breath. Everest’s influence over people was always strong, but the aura around me now is suffocating. I swear I can hear myself blink as the silence stretches on.
“Meg?” Everest raises a blond brow, and then starts to laugh. Those damn incisors are on full display now, but I’m not swooning. Blood rushes to my face, heated rage pouring from me. “Fucking hell, I thought you were dead.”
I will myself not to react, but as usual, Everest sees the exact moment he’s got me cornered, my throat bobbing as I grapple with a response. His following laughter grates under my skin, crawling like barbed wire around my ribs. The people around us might as well vanish. All that’s left is Everest and the sound of my own pulse pounding between my ears.
The person I was before always had a comeback, never faltered, or let his words affect her. Somewhere, somehow, I find a sliver of that tenacity as if I have a special reserve held back with his name on it.
Leaning forward, I come to a stop just centimeters from his personal space. “Well then, it looks like I’m back to haunt you, Everest. Get the fuck out of my seat.” I retort, voice practicallydripping venom. His laughter dies in an instant, and his face grows hard. Pushing himself to stand, he attempts to use his height to intimidate me, as if being at perfect throat-punching height isn’t a good thing.
“It’s Captain Calloway, and this is my team now. You’re welcome to try out Meg, but I seriously doubt you have what it takes to meet my standard.” For a moment the old dynamics slip back into place. Him, with that damn cocky grin, and me trying not to throttle him for simply existing.
“Ironic, since your standard is what got your team cut in the first place. You couldn’t hold your own then, and you won’t be able to now. You don’t have what it takes to be a leader.”
“And you do?” he says coolly. The glassy haze across his eyes is clearing, whatever he’s smoked filtering out of his system. “You disappeared. The place was swarmed with cops asking questions. No one knew where you were or if you were coming back. By the time we heard you were in rehab, your team had slipped to the bottom of the league. They were begging me to take over, and now you’re back, I’m honestly giddy for you to sit on the sidelines and watch me catapult us to victory.”
There’s a roar of cheers behind Everest, those in the front row of the bleachers all holding acceptance letters. It takes me a beat to realize they’re all men, and behind me, the women are standing on the pitch, looking at their shoes. My jaw tics. I wasn’t prepared for this, believing I could keep my head down and fade into the background of campus. But I should have known I wouldn’t be able to let something like this happen without interfering.
Pushing my tongue into my inner cheek, I nod and take a step back. “Fine, Everest.” I say loud enough for all to hear. His smirk makes a reappearance, but it’s short-lived. “I’ll try-out for your position. Tomorrow lunchtime. Bring your A-game because I’m going to wipe the pitch with it.”
There’s a faint ‘oooo’amongst the ladies, placing me firmly in a sexism war I wasn’t ready for. On the topic of not being ready, I haven’t picked up a crosse in months, and I probably should have considered that before opening my big mouth. Everest’s face doesn’t flinch, but his eye twitches.
“Okay, Meg,” he says simply, as if I didn’t leave pieces of myself in every blade of grass on this damn field. And that’s before I was taken against my will. “Tomorrow lunch. It’s a date.” The rage that’s been simmering inside me all morning erupts like a flash fire.
This cocky asshole. He wants me to snap. He’sbeggingme to fall apart in front of all these people so he can prove that I’m broken. That I can’t handle my own shit, never mind an entire team’s, and I wish he was wrong.
I’m preparing to lunge across the table when he steps around it, closing the distance between us. His head drops, lowering his voice for my ears only.
“You’re only going to embarrass yourself. If you want out, you know where to find me.” I smell the faint trace of peppermint gum and narcissism on his breath. It takes everything in me to stand tall, although I’m shaking with restraint. Everest grins like he’s won something, his hand patting my shoulder condescendingly as he starts to walk away. “Good luck,Faker.”
Do you know what? Fuck restraint. Today, I choose violence. Whipping around, I grab Everest’s expensive polo shirt, twist the material around my hand and drag him back towards me. At the same time, my right fist sails forward and hits home in his Adam’s apple. It has no right protruding so much anyway.
A choking sound erupts from Everest, wiping the smirk clean off his face. He coughs violently, hand clutching his throat, knees buckling slightly as he stares up at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. Like I’ve broken some unspoken rule. Like he hadn’t beendaring me to lose control from the second I stepped onto this damn field.
“What the fuck?!” someone shouts behind me.
“She really has gone crazy.”
“Lost her freaking mind.” More mutters fly in and any hopes I had of laying low just died a sudden death. Cleats scramble across the grass, the startled yells of players and spectators alike, but I don’t move.
I just stand there, chest heaving, adrenaline burning like wildfire through my limbs. My hand is still clenched from the punch. My heart is pounding in my ears.
Everest straightens slowly, regaining his composure far too quickly for my liking. He could have had the courtesy to stay down for at least a full minute. My ego kinda needs it right now.
At least there’s a red mark blooming along the column of Everest’s neck where my fist landed. His breathing is ragged, wheezing through parted lips. Those sea-glass green eyes lock onto mine with something darker than fury. He doesn’t speak right away. He just stares. And then helaughs. It’s hoarse, the sound twisted with pain, but it cuts through the noise around us like a blade. The kind of laugh you hear right before the Reaper arrives to drag you into the depths of hell.
His two right-hand jackoffs move toward him, but he waves them off, refusing to break eye contact with me.
“I’m glad to see your mean streak hasn’t been doused,” he rasps, voice strained and broken at the edges, but filled with dangerous amusement. “I’d have been so disappointed if you lost your fire.”
My teeth grind together, holding myself still. I want to hurt him, not humor him. But as per usual, Everest manages to spin everything in his favor. He steps forward again, ignoring the alarmed shouts from the faculty member now charging across the field.
