Page 43 of The F*ck-It List

We’re up by two points by the end of the first half and I’m caked in mud and sweat, panting. I go to the refreshment stand where I down a cup of water before throwing another over my head. Eli joins me, barely out of breath and grinning.

“We’re going to win,” he says confidently.

“If you say so,” I huff.

“That’s the spirit,” he laughs, slapping my back and making me spill my third cup of water. “Of course, we’d probably be doing better if you could focus more on the game than the view,” he muses, and I pull my eyes from where Bea is crouched down talking to a kid holding his mother’s hand. I hadn’t even realised I was staring again.

“What?”

“Dude,” Eli says. “Just ask her out.”

“No,” I snap, instinctively.

He rolls his eyes and goes to sip from his own cup when he’s shoulder checked and ends up spilling it down his shirt. I glare at Ross even when Eli subtly shakes his head at me in warning.

“Elijah,” Ross says to Eli. “How’ve you been? Suck any good dick lately?”

Eli tenses, keeping his back to his old high school bully

Anger bubbles in me. “Watch it, Purcell.”

“What?” he asks innocently. “Just catching up with an old friend.”

“Fuck off,” I tell him.

“I’m getting a drink!”

“Come on,” Eli says, grabbing my arm and trying to lead me away. My jaw is clenched tight, nostrils flaring as I stare daggers at Ross who smiles sweetly back.

We’re only a couple of steps away, me walking backward to keep glaring when Ross speaks again. “I see your hot neighbour’s here today.”

“Oh shit,” Eli mumbles by my side as I heat with rage, muscles shaking with barely leashed control.

“You tapping that?” Ross continues like the grotesque idiot he is. “Because I don’t want to go for your sloppy seconds.”

I see red. Ross sees me coming. It’s a blur, reality fading in and out as the pounding in my ears keeps a somewhat steady rhythm. My fists curl into the front of Ross’s black and white rugby shirt and we both crash into the collapsible table, which does in fact collapse. Water flies everywhere, soaking both of us through, and I’m vaguely aware of shouts and shrieks from the onlookers around us.

My teeth are bared, I’m sure my eyes are crazed as Ross cries out, fear and surprise in his eyes as I land on top of him. I’m not sure what my plan is, I’m really not the violent type, but this motherfucker has spent years torturing my best friend and now he has the gall to talk like that about my…your what, you idiot?Whatever. All I know is I have to stop all of his stupid words coming out of his stupid mouth.

I’m over Ross as he quakes beneath me, my hands still gripping his shirt, knuckles white with the strain. He has his hands around my wrists, trying to pry me away, but he doesn’t want that. If I free a hand, it’s smacking his annoyingly handsome mug. I pull him up by his shirt and shake him a little.

“What the fuck did you say to me?” I roar in his face.

“I-I-I…” he stutters.

“Have some fucking respect!”

I’m suddenly surrounded, strong hands tugging at me on my shoulders, the back of my shirt, and my sides until I’m forced to let go, flying to my feet and being held by multiple people to stop me from lunging back at Ross as he’s helped up far more gently.

“What the hell, August?” Tony shouts at my side. “This is rugby, a gentleman’s sport. You want to act like a hooligan, the football team meet up the road in an hour.”

My chest expands and deflates in quick, hard breaths and I’m pretty sure I’m snarling as Ross scampers to his feet and looks back at me with bulging eyes and trembling lips. I shoved Ross up against a few lockers in school, warning him off Eli. I crowded him, talked smack, but I never hurt him, never got violent. He’s probably in shock and serves him right, he pushed me to my limit.

“Hey,” Eli barks, coming to stand in front of me. “Hey.”

I look at my best friend, who looks almost as shocked as Ross. I make a conscious effort to slow my breathing and stop struggling against the hold of those still keeping me from attacking. We stare at each other for a beat, a silent what the fuck coming from him.

“Are we good here?” Tony asks. “Do I need to kick the both of you out of the game or are you going to grow up and play a decent game without all the shenanigans?”