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“I’d rather have my dick cut off than shove it into your mouth. But I will get my show. I paid for it.”

“You want a show, asshole?” someone says from behind him. “Then how about you drop on your knees for me and see how well you can take my cock in your mouth. But open wide, motherfucker, because mine ain’t the five-inch dick you’re packing.”

When Dean turns around, Dylan is standing there with a cocky grin on his face and something almost gleeful in his eyes.

Dylan has always been something of a class clown, constantly getting himself into one kind of mischief or another, but underneath all that, he’s what I’d call a gentle giant. He likes making people feel good. Making them laugh, even if it’s at themselves. I’ve never seen him get this aggressive with anyone. Especially not one of his teammates.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Kimball. Walk away,” Dean says defensively.

However, I don’t miss the way he takes a few steps back from me.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I like Max. She’s funny. A little dark sometimes, but still, pretty goddamn funny. I hate seeing good people get shit on by crappy people. See my conundrum?”

“Big word for you, don’t you think?” Dean snickers, trying to claw back some of the bravado Dylan just knocked out of him.

“Like I said, not the only big thing I’m carrying. Hey, but if you need to get paid first,” Dylan says, grabbing a five-dollar bill and slamming it on the table. “That should cover it.”

Everyone bursts out laughing as Dylan pulls up a chair, making it abundantly clear he has no intention of letting Dean off the hook.

“Chop, chop, champ. I got Mrs. Anderson’s class next, and you know how much she hates it when I’m late. Ain’t got all day, dude.”

I can see the wheels turning in Dean’s head as he weighs his options. He doesn’t want to lose face to Dylan, especially not in front of Peyton, but there’s also no good way to get out of the shitstorm he’s created for himself without looking like a chump.

Guess karma took a chunk out of his ass faster than I thought it would. But then again, evil people never take defeat lying down.

Dean leans into Dylan and flashes all his teeth in his face.

“I’d bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you, Kimball? Everyone knows you swing both ways. But I’d rather catch all the STDs from this bitch you’re so intent on protecting than go all gay for you.”

Dylan doesn’t miss a beat and leans in closer, right into Dean’s face.

“I’d be very careful with what you say next. Remember, we still have practice this afternoon, and loads of accidents can happen out on the field. Don’t get it twisted, Shepherd. You ain’t shit out there, and the only reason you’re even wearing that jacket is because Daddy made sure Coach Lewis put you on the team. Thing is, you can’t play with a broken arm. And shit like that tends to happen just when you’re not paying attention.”

“I’m always paying attention, motherfucker.”

“We’ll see,” Dylan says, leaning back in the chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. He then stretches his long legs out in front of him, crossing one ankle over the other. “So how are we going to play this, Shepherd? Are you going to walk away, or is everyone here gonna get a show?”

Dean’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“See you on the field, Kimball.”

Dylan’s cocky grin only gets wider.

“Looking forward to it.”

Dean gives Peyton a shrug, her blue eyes turning cold as they meet his before returning to whatever conversation she was having before he decided to mess with me.

Dean turns on his heel and heads for the cafeteria doors, while Troy Baker and Simon Wright get up from the Reds’ table to follow right behind him.

“Don’t let them see you sweat it, Morgan,” Dylan says, finally getting up from the chair and sliding it back under the table. “Just play it like I do. Make everyone see how fucking ridiculous they’re being. Bullies lose interest pretty damn fast when they’re the punch line.”

Dylan’s advice catches me by surprise. He has never struck me as someone who’s ever had to worry about being bullied. If anything, he seems like the kind of guy bullies would know better than to mess with.

“So that’s your plan? Keep everyone laughing for the next four years so they never get the chance to laugh at you?”

“Better that than let them see me cry. Don’t know if you missed it or not, but that prick just outed me in front of most of our school year.”

Shit. I thought Dean was just being an asshole, throwing out whatever insult he thought would hurt the most. Apparently, there was some truth behind his words.