His grin broke across his face and it was worth checking my worst tendencies. My heart thumped hard against my ribs and a wave of happiness assaulted me.
How thefuckwas I going to break their hearts? Did I still want to do that? I had no idea, but I knew one thing for sure. I was in trouble.
19
KC
“Move those feet, Beaumont. Fucking dance for me. Get those shuffles right. Come on, we’ve done this a thousand times.” My defensive coach shifted around me, pointing at the cones he wanted me to use to shuffle, to scrape, and then drop in a familiar drill.
Coach Nairn was a tough man with high expectations, but he was also fair and wanted only the best for me. He’d worked extensively with me after I’d requested his feedback, and he made sure to give me all his effort, so I gave it right back.
But today was not a good day.
Even though it was September, the air was soupy and sweat layered my skin with the heaviness of a fur coat. I was hot, my muscles ached, and my mouth had been stuffed with cotton balls. The back of my shoulders were streaked with pain from lifting in the gym at the ass crack of dawn.
I blinked rapidly against the morning sun, my eyes stinging from dryness despite the sweat dripping into them.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist, panting as I stared at the orange cones. They shifted and moved, doubling up, and I squinted. That wasn’t right.
“Beaumont!” Coach Nairn crossed his arms, bending at the waist as he leaned forward into my field of vision. “You good, kid?”
No.Nausea swelled in my stomach and I gagged. Was this heatstroke? It couldn’t be. I’d been feeling unwell since I’d woken up and as the morning progressed, the sickness grew. My chest pressed down against my lungs and I fell to one knee.
“Beaumont?” Coach Nairn crossed the distance between us and went to a knee beside me, his comforting hand on my shoulder. “You need the doc?”
Somewhere over my shoulder came laughter, and I tensed. Michael Hudson was our quarterback and the biggest asshole on the team. He thought his shit smelled like roses and wasn’t afraid to give everyone else shit instead of focusing on his own game. He was a big fan of pissing me off.
“It’s all right, Coach. He’sdelicate. Small and petite like an orchid. He needs pampering.” Hudson laughed harder, throwing his head back so the sun glinted on his blond hair, as if he was a goddamned model. He was good-looking, but that didn’t make up for his shitty attitude. A crooked nose from a punch would improve the situation.
I gritted my teeth, my skin waffling between freezing cold and flushed hot. I wasn’t going to retaliate. It wasn’t worth it, especially when Hudson’s family donated a lot of money to the college.
Coach Nairn pointed at him. “Focus on yourself, Hudson. Go back to the offensive practice.”
Hudson ignored him, and from the corner of my eye, I saw him waving his hands around with limp wrists. “Oh, I’m so special. I’m a teeny linebacker. Pamper me, Coach Nairn.”
I hate him.
My head throbbed and I exhaled heavily through my nose. He was the reason I’d been drinking so many protein smoothies. I had a point to prove with him. He mocked me, said I needed to get bigger, that I was a piss-poor linebacker without more muscle. Even though I knew he was a bully, his words chiseled their way into my head, taking over my thoughts. So, I drank more protein to pack on the muscle.
“Hudson, I won’t tell you again,” Coach Nairn snapped.
Hudson had a death wish. Coach Nairn’s face flushed red and he stood, arms straining. He was a big man who had inches on me, and if I had to guess, he was at least six foot four. He also had a temper, and while he would never hurt anyone, he had a reputation from his one year of pro ball before an MCL tear destroyed his future as a player.
Hudson continued to prance around, waving his hands and acting like a princess, swinging his hips as he mocked me. My vision blurred and my world tilted, but I forced myself to my feet.
I wasn’t going to let him win. Fuck him. I had values, and people with Hudson’s personality would take my failures as a victory that he’d never let me forget.
“Hudson,” Ozzie snapped from a group of the offensive players gathered near the bench. He threw up his hands. “Are you going to be a little bitch or are you going to come and do your fucking job, quarterback?”
If there was one positive about this situation, it was that Hudson wasn’t on my line. Poor Ozzie was his center, and he hated Hudson as much as I did.
“Fuck off, Urquhart.” Hudson sent Ozzie the middle finger. “Sit on it and rotate.”
Ozzie’s mouth twisted into a smug smirk as he ran a hand through his short dark hair. His cheeks were blotchy withredness from the heat and hard exercise we’d been doing. “You’d love it too much.”
Hudson scoffed as I sucked in another deep breath, my lungs burning. My tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth, the sensation making the inside of my cheeks as dry as sandpaper.
“Enough.” Coach Nairn sliced his hand through the air. He jutted a finger toward Hudson. “Go back to your own drills, Hudson, before I talk to Coach Kroll about benching you.”
