“Sorry, Kingston, you’re the only one on the team who seems to think color is more important than integrity, and you sure as fuck don’t constitute as everyone to me. So you can either take the advice or keep playing second-string. Choice is yours, but I’d watch the classist, racist bullshit in the locker rooms if I were you,” I grate out, needing to end this before I end up throwing that first punch.
I have a feeling that the alpha posturing is his way of trying to provoke me, and sadly, it’s working. I can feel the urge to rearrange his face itching in my fingers, and it’s taking everything I’ve got to keep my hands to myself.
I take two steps back to get out of his space before heading towards my car, making damn sure to keep him in my line of sight as I go. I’m not stupid enough to turn my back on this fucker.
Like a viper, his hand strikes out and grabs my arm, wrenching it in a way that has me stumbling back a step without dislodging his hold on me.
“Don’t fucking walk away from me,” he screams, spit flying everywhere.
And that was really it for me; my free fist clenches, and I wind up to swing.
“Marcus, don’t.” Tristan’s voice sounds right next to my ear.
I was so fucking focused on Kingston that I didn’t even see him come up. Tristan’s hand grabs my clenched fist, and his arm wraps around my chest, hauling me back.
Derrick is mirroring Tristan, only he’s hauling Kingston back. Kingston is trying to throw him off, ready to throw punches and fight, but I’m relaxing into Tristan.
“I get it, but he doesn’t deserve your compassion, nor your position. Let it go and get in the car,” Tristan says close to my ear, and I know he’s right.
I’m about to throw hands and blow my position right after earning it for this fucker. Not only would I never forgive myself for doing it, but Qiang would never get over it either. They’d blame themself because, of all people, it would be throwing a punch at Kingston Adair, whether Qiang had had anything to do with the altercation or not.
It would be amusing that Tristan is the voice of reason when usually it’s the other way around. Usually, he’s the one ready to throw hands, and Darryl and I have to step in. And if I weren’t so fucking pissed off, then maybe I would find it amusing, but at the moment, I’m only seeing red.
“That’s right, Marcus. Be a good little bitch and ride off with your bestie,” Kingston sneers, wrenching against Derrick.
Derrick wrenches him back.
“Check yourself, man, don’t cost yourself your place on the team,” he grates out.
Kingston throws a shoulder to shrug out of Derrick’s hold, but Tristan’s already hauled me far enough away to be well out of the fray.
“Fuck you!” Kingston hisses at Derrick before turning and glaring in my direction. “Fuck you, Bauer! Fuck you all for cowtowing to a fucking cheater,” he spits out before turning on his heel and storming off.
“Just blow it off, Marcus. We all know he’s a dick, and he’s not worth you getting kicked off the team,” Derrick reminds me. “Don’t let him ruin your roses, man.”
“Keys,” Tristan says simply, holding out his hand.
I huff because yeah, I’m pissed, but I can drive.
“I can–”
“I said keys, Marcus. You may be willing to lead-foot your way home because you’re pissed off, but I’m not willing to die over one bad mood.”
I huff out angrily and slam the keys into Tristan’s hand before crawling into the passenger seat and slamming my head against it. Today was going so fucking well, too.
Despite Tristan trying as hard as he can to calm me down on the drive home, despite how much affirmation comes out of his mouth, and how much he tries to hype up the wins of my day, that taste of metal stays in my mouth. I know he’s right, but my hand almost aches for that punch I wasn’t able to throw.
SUBS AND SALADS
Qiang’s POV
Qi’s cheerleading practice got canceled today, so we came home early and were in the kitchen making smoothies when Marcus came tearing through the house.
The front door slammed, and he was running up the stairs and slamming into his bedroom so fast I barely got a glimpse of his backside as he streaked by. Tristan wasn’t far behind him with a furrowed brow and a decidedly unhappy expression.
Qi and I exchange looks before Qi moves towards Tristan and snuggles into him. Tristan leans down and takes a deep breath, as though using Qi as a way to anchor himself.
“Why is my boyfriend broken?” I ask, knowing Qi will take care of Tristan and needing to know what’s wrong with Marcus so that I can fix it.
