He opens his mouth to respond, but before a single word leaves his mouth, Parker Benson plows right into him from behind.
Deacon doesn’t have a chance to brace himself. His body goes careening forward, and he crashes into the field. Hard.
“What the fuck?” I snap, veering off in their direction. “The play was already over,” I shout, throwing my arms in the air and shoving Benson back.
Not even bothering to apologize, Benson shrugs and jogs away.
Asshole.
I help Deacon to his feet, paying special attention to the way he moves. That fall didn’t look good.
“You alright?” I ask.
He runs his tongue over his teeth, a dark expression crossing over his face. “Great.”
Bullshit. The guy looks pissed.
“This the type of shit I should expect more of?” he asks. “I kinda thought it was just the one asshole.”
My gaze sweeps over to where Holt is. Benson, Chambers, Pru, and a few others stand loose beside him, their gazes trained in our direction.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Holt doesn’t like being outshined. He’s pulling his boys in.”
If Austin doesn’t want to be cut out of a play, then he should get his head out of his ass and do the fucking play. The dick can’t even fight his own battles. Not that I didn’t see this coming. I knew he’d be pissed and find some way to retaliate. But what Benson did was a bitch move.
Deacon isn’t the one who took Austin’s position. I’m the one who slipped into his spot. The hit should have been directed at me.
Fuck them.
“Is it an us against them sort of thing?” Deacon asks. “I like to know where and how deep to draw my lines.”
I nod. “It’s looking that way.”
The team knows there’s a situation between Holt and me, and that’s enough to draw some obvious lines, but so far, it’s always been Austin against me. This is the first time another of our teammates has so blatantly gotten involved.
There’s a divide between those players who are pledged to Zeta Pi, and those of us who aren’t. The frat brothers are sticking together and following Holt like blind fucking sheep.
No surprise there.
But the rest of the team is loyal to Julio. He’s our captain, so the team is used to following his lead. It feels natural, and if they’veplayed with him for more than one season, then they know to trust his judgment.
Julio made it clear whose side he’s on. Mine. And the rest of the team is either making their positions known or staying the fuck out of it. But until today, tensions have stayed strictly off-field, outside of the game. It’s tense in the locker room. We don’t all get along. But on the field, we keep our heads in the fucking game.
Deacon spits on the grass and grins. His saliva paints his teeth red, and between that and the gleam in his eyes, he’s got one hell of a manic appearance. “Cool. So all the assholes over there are free game?” He rolls his neck from side to side, legs bouncing in place.
I nod. “Safe to say it’s everyone who’s pledged to Zeta Pi.”
“Looks like I won’t be joining any fraternities.” His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t drop his bloodstained grin.
I clap him on the shoulder. “Not unless you want to become besties with those twats.” I nod toward Holt’s entourage.
“Pass.”
Figured as much.
Coach switches us to drills for the rest of the day. I think his plan is to wear us out so we can’t keep taking our shit out on one another on the field. Despite how physical it’s gotten, and how damn near everyone on the team is either bleeding or visibly bruised, he hasn’t once yelled at us to knock it off.
Coach feels the pressure of our game against Crown Point University, too. And while he needs us all in one piece, it’s tohis benefit if we’re pissed off during the game. That way, he can direct our anger.
