“I can’t wait to see what you bring tomorrow. I’m going to lie awake all night thinking about it.” He winks, and a part of my soul withers. God, I hate him. The whole privileged, unbeatable jock thing is grating beneath my skin, causing my blood to boil over. Before I can think of something harsh to respond, arms slip around mine, the staff member most likely, trying to pull me away. I resist, refusing to be the one who leaves first. I’ve earned my place here. I’ve suffered beyond reason, and none of it was for Everest Calloway to mock me and call me ‘Faker’.
Sensing my stubbornness, Everest laughs again and turns away. He leaves, uncaring about the rest of the hopefuls patiently waiting their turn. Claire is among them, her eyes refusing to meet mine. In fact, they all are avoiding looking my way as if I’m tainted. As if I’m trash. I twist my arms free of the guy holding me like I’m something feral, heart hammering and breath sharp in my chest.
I was once queen of this field, until I was reduced to begging in the dirt. This isn’t my turf anymore, but I can’t seem to let go. I can’t let someone else take all of my hard work from me, even if I had no intention of reclaiming my captain’s title until around ten minutes ago. Everest has unleashed something I wasn’t ready to face.
I want his pain to replace my own. I want revenge.
Chapter Three
“I haven’t so much as stretched in months, and somehow I’m getting on that pitch tomorrow and going toe-to-toe with my old rival.” I throw my hands out wide, stopping in front of my phone. Thiago blinks, his face filling the screen with rapt interest.
“It’s my damn team! I trained those girls night and day until we were so perfectly in sync, they knew which play we were going to run just by the tilt of my eyebrow. Do you know how much fucking hard work that is?!”
When Thi doesn’t say anything and just keeps staring, I stop pacing back and forth and make a frustrated noise in my throat.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? You never shut up normally.”
The bastard has the audacity to smirk before he manages to hide it, clearly biting down on the inside of his cheeks.
“So, when you say you gave him a right hook, do you mean you lightly tickled his throat or did you sever his voice box?”
I groan, rolling my eyes. I wish it were the latter. It would make everyone’s lives much more peaceful.
“I always punch to hurt, but that’s not the point. Don’t you have anything supportive to say?”
“I mean, you’ve got yourself into a situation you know you’re not ready for. I don’t really know what I can say to change that, but I’ve never actually heard you speak this much. I’m scared that you might stop if I enter the conversation.”
“Well, enter it. I’m stuck in my head right now.” To prove a point, I lift my hands either side of my head and mime that my brain is scrambled. A scrambled, red, raging mess. How Everest gets under my skin so easily is a mystery. Thiago shifts in his seat, getting himself comfortable.
“I get why you’re mad. Dude sounds like an insufferable prick, but you had no intention of jumping straight back into lacrosse this morning. Maybe it’d be best to take a back seat for now. You can work your way up to it when you’re ready.”
Dropping onto the edge of my bed, the mattress dips beneath my weight. It’s much softer than the hard rehab bed I’ve been sleeping on for months.
“I know I didn’t plan on playing again anytime soon, but…ugh,” I sigh. Lacing my fingers together, I push my thumbs beneath my chin. “Everest thinks he's such a big shot, walking around like he owns the place. God, Thi, you should have seen the way he looked at me.”
Thiago tilts his head ever so slightly.
“How did he look at you?”His voice turns cautious, his smirk falling away to be replaced with the seriousness of a thinly pressed line.
“Like it would have made his entire fucking day if I just burst into tears.” I scoff, shaking my memory of those pale green eyes. The confidence in his stance, the arrogance in his smile. “I couldn’t give him the satisfaction.”
“So instead, he’s going to get the satisfaction of publicly humiliating you tomorrow lunchtime.”
“Thanks for that,” I drawl. “You’re supposed to be defending me. He is the interloper here. He should be the one stepping aside from his role as my seat warmer, not the other way around.”
“I will defend you until my dying breath,”Thi’s grin returns, and his hand touches the cotton t-shirt against his chest. There’s a mustard stain beside it.“I’m just preparing you for the worst-case scenario, so anything better will feel like a win.”He shrugs unapologetically. I narrow my eyes at him, dragging a pillow into my lap like I might hurl it through the screen.
“That’s some top-tier motivational coaching. Remind me to never let you near my psyche again.” Thi’s eyes gleam against his tanned skin, his aura oozing the kind of charm he’s relied on all these years.
“Too late for that, Amorzinho. I’ve practically taken up residence in there.”
I huff at that, trying not to soften and failing. Even when I’m at the height of being pissed off, Thiago always finds a way straight to my core.
He’s been that way since the day I woke up in an unfamiliar hospital. Laptop on his thighs, fingers flying over the keys, his feet propped up on my bed. As soon as his light blue eyes lifted to mine, he smiled, and it was a smile that could wash away a thousand worries. Talking to him soothes my mind, seeing him eases my soul. Unless I’m experiencing some delayed Stockholm syndrome for the man who carried me bloodied and limp from a car wreckage. That’s a possibility.
“Anyway,” I say, pushing myself up off the bed, “I haven’t even shown you my new prison cell. Welcome to Casa de Meg.” Flipping the camera, I slowly pan the room. “The walls are hospital cream. There’s one bed. One desk. A single wardrobe. A slim hanging mirror. One tiny window that overlooks the parking lot of the staff building. There’s a communal kitchen on the bottom level and a bathroom down the hall, but I do have a basin.” I show Thi said basin, a sad and singular stature of white porcelain in the corner with a bar of soap.
“Oof,”Thiago says, dragging the word out.“They really said ‘give the rehab kid a safety quarters.’”
