“Fuck you, Slater! You missed the last two practices and now you wanna play? You’re a real piece of work! Ya know that? Mess with my time, and now you show up like nothing happened.”
Nodding, I say through my mouth guard, “Yes, Coach. Sorry, Coach.”
“Well, fuck you! Sit on the bench.”
I frown at him. “You need me out there! You can’t put David on the wing!” I yell. I gesture disdainfully towards the clumsy tool taking my position on the field.
Coach flips me off. “Fuck you, Slater. David is reliable. He’s been here all week.”
What an arsehole.
“Fine!” I storm over to the bench, slam my body down, and chew on my guard. I glare out at the field; the smell of freshly mowed grass and the sounds of the lads rumbling surrounds me. I really need to play. These past two days have drained me emotionally—I need a release from my thoughts. Need to feel my muscles burn. Need to hit someone.
Blesk and Elise will probably still be asleep. I really wish she’d stayed with me last night, slept in my bed, let me hold her.Goddammit,I don’t want to go another night without her next to me. When I woke up spooning her yesterday, with her body snug against mine, the smell of her hair in my face, I felt home. Seen. Complete. I’d been suffocating without her.Fuck me,I was excited, but then those beautiful brown eyes peered up at me from my pillow, and it all faded away. I had to do a double-take before realising her face was telling me a silent goodbye. It was fleeting, but I saw it.
Like we were over.
Like Konnor and Blesk were over.
She looked absolutely gutted that I’m the boy from her past. Does the man I am disappoint her? The boy she saved is a drunken idiot not worth saving after all.
And that wasn't the last time I'd saw that look either. When she thought she was alone with her thoughts, I watched her from the doorway, watched her face fall and panic. Shewasn’thappy to see me.
Suddenly I was reeling with scenarios of losing her—again. Then the cold coffee she pretended to like, then the bacon and eggs she wouldn’t have been able to stomach. The box with memories and her persistence in referring to herself in third person. I know things aren’t smooth between us, even as we smiled and shared our past with Elise. I know she’s not throwing herself intous.And that makes me want to hold on tighter. Keep her closer. Elise called me a fucking psycho and that is exactly how I feel.
Then the Erik shit…
Forcing those memories down, I focus on the field, wanting a few hours away from thoughts of that fucker.
Coach turns towards me.
Aggressively, he fists the front of my jersey, dragging me to my feet “Get on the field, Slater. If David wasn’t such a complete waste of space, you would be benched for weeks.” Before I can move, he adds, “Don’t piss me off today.”
“Yes, Coach!”
I jog out to join Jax and the lads on the field.
Flexing my neck, cracking my jaw, I jump up and down to loosen up. After a good amount of time on the sidelines, I know who I can dominate out here and who I need to watch out for. There is one guy I haven’t seen for a while, on the opposing team, Max Butcher. He doesn’t always play. Kinda shows up when he wants, then leaves. Typical. Last time I saw him, he was playing for The Wedges at Connolly High. We both grew up in The District; however his mates were never the kind I wanted to associate with.
I watch him for a moment. Fuck—Max is built like a brickhouse, but he's not slow. He is fast like a mother-fucking six-legged cheetah, and he doesn’t slow down for anything. Dude will put someone in hospital one day.
Erik…
Dammit.And now I’m thinking about him in hospital, waking up and telling his boss what really happened to him. That was weird… The way those men claimed him yesterday. Spoke for him. Would he convince them to press charges after all? What’s he gonna say? I was raping my fucking sister, and he got in the way? Fucker. I clench my jaw.
I stretch, thinking about a million things all at once: Liz, Erik without appendages…
Then the whistle blows.
Jacob feeds the ball into the scrum. I eyeball the opposing captain, feeling on edge to move. To run. To slam into someone. As soon as Jonno has the ball, my feet start pounding the turf. I’m thinking about only a few things now.
The ball. Their defence. The line.
It’s like dodgeball, but instead of dodging balls, I’m ducking and weaving through incoming brick walls with fucking arms. It is a good thing I’m fast.
Flex has the ball now.
Panting hard, I trail him up, keeping myself open, knowing it will come to me upon release. He tosses the ball. The leather thuds against my chest. The ball is in my hands, and now I have only one thing on my mind.
