“Ozzie, stop blabbing and listen.” Coach Kroll crossed his massive arms. For a man in his late fifties, Coach was fit as fuck with bulging arms and dark silver hair. There were girls in theschool who panted after him and I didn’t blame them. Not one bit. I was pretty sure they had a fan club for him, too.
He sat straighter. “Yes, Coach.”
Coach Kroll perused his team, his green eyes sharp and lips pursed. “I’m proud of you boys. You’ve put in the work and I can tell. But let’s finish off with a W, huh? Especially against those elite snobs in New York.”
We cheered, pumping our fists.
Coach grinned. “All right, get to the locker room and scrub up. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
We stood, but before I could get far, Coach stopped me.
“Beaumont, after you shower and get dressed, come see me in my office, all right?”
I stared at him for a moment, worry worming into my stomach, but I nodded. “Yes, Coach.”
I rushed after my teammates and got into the showers as quickly as I could.
Hudson was along the far wall of showers and glanced over his shoulder. “Are you in a hurry to see our dicks?” He winked at me, which made me furious.
My entire body clenched for a few seconds. I let out a long breath.
A few of the guys chuckled, but mostly everyone let it go. Hudson being an asshole wasn’t new.
“I’d have to be pretty desperate to do that,” I mumbled.
Ozzie snickered.
“What was that?” Hudson called over with a scowl.
“KC and I were just discussing how you aren’t fucking funny. Homophobia as a joke died in the nineties.” Ozzie gave Hudson the middle finger.
Hudson rolled his eyes and hissed as he got soap in them, then turned around to finish his shower.
I ignored Hudson. He wasn’t worth my time. My mind was too busy coming up with scenarios of what Coach would want. I’d been working hard with Coach Nairn and Hawthorn, the defensive coach and trainer, to figure out my diet, but I was still struggling. I’d cut out the smoothies, but the food within my meal plan tasted like shit to the point I barely ate.
Foodoutsideof the plan was nonexistent. I couldn’t look at it without gagging. I was starting to feel the effects, too. Lethargy and muscle weakness crept up on me daily, getting worse as the weeks went by.
Ren and Oli tried to make me eat, and I did, when I could pretend the food was good, but otherwise I avoided it all together. It was easier on my brain.
Lying to Hawthorn was difficult. He’d been with me from the beginning of my college football career. He was dedicated and smart as hell, which made me wonder if he knew I wasn’t telling the truth.
I rushed out of the showers and dressed in warm clothes, then raced to Coach’s office with my backpack slung over my shoulder. When I reached the door, I took a deep breath and rapped my knuckles against the wood.
“Come in, Beaumont.”
I slipped inside, listening to the door close with a loudclick, an echoing death sentence. Coach Kroll sat behind his large desk, shoulders hunched as he tapped on his iPad. When he saw me, he sat up straighter and waved at the chair in front of the desk.
“Sit.”
I exhaled shakily, lungs shuddering, and forced my feet to move. I fell into the seat with heavy limbs. “Am I in trouble?”
He laughed then, and it was booming in the otherwise quiet room. “No, kid. Of course you’re not. You’re an upstanding student and player. No one’s had trouble with you.”
I sighed in relief, shoulders slumping, but then tensed again when his face turned serious and he leaned forward on his elbows. The lines in his cheeks deepened with remorse I didn’t want to see. Not now. Not ever.
“But?” I asked.
“But, Nairn, Hawthorn, and I are worried about you. We think?—”
