What Idoknow is that Gio is more protective of Holt than anyone else on the team. Logically, that might simply be because they’re friends and both live in the same frat house, but sometimes Gio’s eyes say as much as Holt’s does. I just wish Gio would fucking take notice so he’ll stop looking at Qiang. I donotwant to have to face off against my offensive captain if I don’t have to.
I chew on my lip for a moment before looking over at Holt. “If money can buy him a spot on the team, then why can’t it buy him a starting position?”
“Because even the school board won’t trade the school’s football reputation for a single player’s money. If he can’t show he’s capable of maintaining the current rep, money won’t buy him any further than it’s already bought him,” he says confidently.
I nod and turn my attention to the field, but the day just keeps getting weirder because the cheerleaders are practicing downfield, and I notice that Qi is paying more attention to the field than to his practice. Which, in all fairness, isn’t uncommon if Tristan is running drills, but he’s not; he’s on the sidelines right now. And the expression on Qi’s face isn’t the usual sappy love-stricken one he usually has, but one of anger that looks extremely out of place on his usually sweet face.
I shrug it all off when Coach blows the whistle and tells everyone to hit the showers. Holt claps me on the shoulder once before heading towards Gio, probably to get an idea of what happened on the field between him and Kingston, while I head over to Tristan.
“What do you make of our new teammate?” I ask Tristan, nudging my chin towards Kingston’s back as we head into the locker room. I doubt he heard me, though, because he’s completely distracted as he turns back towards the field, probably looking for Qi.
“Something wrong?” I ask, getting a bit wigged out at how hard he’s scanning the field. He’s super aware of Qi all the time, but he’s usually not so overprotective that he freaks out whenever Qi is out of his sight.
“Have you seen Qi?” He asks in an uncharacteristically tense tone, which has me turning to look for him, too, but I can’t find him either.
I frown at Tristan’s weird behavior. “I’m sure he just ran to the restroom or something. Didn’t you guys come together today?” I ask as a way to remind him that it’s not like Qi would leave if Tristan is his way home, or that he’d leave anywhere Tristan is without saying something first, so he’s obviously around here somewhere.
“Yeah,” Tristan trails off with an unconvinced expression on his face as we enter the locker room.
“You guys fighting or something?” I ask, trying to figure out where the tension is coming from.
Tristan shakes his head, but before he can say anything, the scene that greets us when we enter the locker room completely distracts him. Instead of the usual raucous banter and slamming of locker doors as everyone gets their stuff and heads to the showers, there are screams and shouts before something slams harshly against the lockers, followed by a loud screech.
“Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, you piece of shit!” I’m thunderstruck as Tristan’s shocked eyes meet mine because the angry screech full of vitriol is definitely Qi’s.
We round the corner to find Kingston on the floor and Qi landing a brutal kick to the fallen man’s gut. Kingston grunts in frustration before rolling to his feet.
“Pretty low to hit someone from behind!” he growls as he propels himself forward, hands up to throw a punch.
Before he can throw the punch, there’s a flurry of movement as Derrick wraps his arms around Kingston’s chest from behind and yanks him back. Tristan steps between them and uses his body to cage Qi against the lockers.
“You are the last person who gets to lecture anyone on being low. Can you even reach the sidewalk?” Qi shouts back from the confines of Tristan’s arms.
I know from previous conversations that the only reason Tristan’s able to pacify Qi at all right now is that Qi is allowing it. Tristan knows it, too, because instead of trying to figure out the situation, he’s trying to reason with Qi.
“He’s not worth it. Let it go, baby,” he mutters under his breath.
Qi looks at Tristan as though he grew an extra head. “Let it go? Hecan’tbe here, Tristan. Nothere,” he starts angrily, but is almost pleading by the last statement.
A sardonic laugh comes from where Kingston is standing. “Too late. I already reunited with Qiang earlier,” he says tauntingly.
That grabs my attention. Who is this guy whose mere presence is bringing out a side of Qi I’ve only ever heard of him having once before? And who the fuck is he to Qiang?
“What the fuck do you have to do with Qiang?” I growl out, taking a step in his direction.
“What the fuck doyouhave to do with Qiang?” Kingston rebuts, and I’m in no mood to play games because it’s obvious there is nothing good about this fucker.
Holt moves to my side, curling one hand around my arm while placing the other firmly against my chest to keep me back.
“Hey, let’s cool off. This guy isn’t worth any of you getting kicked off the team,” he says with an authoritatively calm voice that’s currently annoying as fuck. I know he’s trying to get everything under control, but I don’t want to be pacified right now; I want answers.
“Stay away from Qiang,” Qi interrupts me before I can ask questions.
Kingston throws a taunting smile in Qi’s direction. “But he seemed so happy to see me earlier.”
“Stay away from them, asshole!” Qi completely loses whatever calm Tristan had helped him restore when the screeching tone from earlier comes back in full force.
“Qi, where’s Qiang now?” Tristan asks, pulling the only card we all know is strong enough to override everything else for Qi.
