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“What the hell are you doing here?” I blurted out.
“I came to see the game, what else would I—”
“Is Thatcher here?” Hailee was as white as a sheet.
“You didn’t think I was going to let Gallen here have all the fun, did you?” Thatcher rounded his friend and narrowed his eyes on Mya. “Who’s the new girl?”
“No one to you,” she retorted, folding her arms over her chest.
“I didn’t know Ford had taken to slumming it with hood rats.”
“You can’t say that,” I shrieked, stepping in front of Mya, shielding her from Thatcher’s superior smirk. “You don’t even know her.”
“I have eyes, sweetheart.”
People were watching now. Even the hot dog guy was gawking at us instead of doing his damn job.
“Just go,” I lowered my voice, my eyes pleading. “You’re making a scene.”
Thatcher edged closer, taking the air with him, until my breath caught in my throat. “You’ve got balls; you know that, sweet thing? I was planning on playing with Chase’s girl a little more, but perhaps I’ll play with you instead.” His hand snaked out and brushed the side of my neck, eliciting a violent shudder inside me.
“Get your fucking hands off her.” Mya stepped up beside me, anger rolling off her. “Before I scream.”
Thatcher’s head whipped over to her and a twisted smirk graced his deadly expression. “Screaming only makes me hotter, baby.”
Smacking his hand away, I stepped back, pulling Mya with me. Gallen smirked, making no disguise of the fact he was blatantly eye-fucking me.
Bile rushed up my throat. These guys were pigs. Worse than anything I’d ever witnessed from Jason and the team, and that was saying something. They didn’t look like guys who wanted to have a little fun with us. They looked like guys who wanted to humiliate us.
To hurt us.
“Come on,” Hailee said, her voice quiet. “We should go.”
I pulled Mya away, trying to ignore the two sets of eyes biting into my skin. “Do I even want to know?” she asked as we abandoned hot dogs and melted into the sea of people.
“Oh, that was Lewis Thatcher, the quarterback and alpha-jerk of the Raiders rivals, The Rixon East Eagles.”
“I’m sorry I asked.” She half-laughed. “So when you said Rixon takes football very seriously, you really meant—”
“As serious as a heart attack.” My lips curved in a tentative smile. “It can get kind of crazy. There is no love lost between Jason and Thatcher.”
“And here I thought moving to some small town in the ass crack of nowhere was going to be boring.”
“Hey,” I protested. “Rixon isn’t in the ass crack of nowhere.”
“It isn’t the city either. But I’m glad Principal Finnigan stuck us together.” Her expression softened, something I suspected not many people got to see.
“Me too. Come on.” Linking arms with her and Hailee, I pushed all thoughts of Thatcher out of my head.
We had a game to win.
“Holy crap, this is invigorating.” Mya grinned beside me as we watched our offence celebrate a touchdown. Their sixth of the game.
“What did I tell you? Hate the players, don’t hate the game.” Flashing her a wink, I chuckled, bouncing on the balls of my feet, waving my hands in the air like a crazy person.
Hailee was quieter, her eyes zeroed in on Cameron as he fist-bumped his teammates before jogging off field.
It was the fourth quarter and we hadn’t seen Thatcher and his friend again. But we’d watched the Raiders kick the Falcons ass all over the field. Our fans, although four times smaller than the home fans, were louder, hungrier, and the buzz in the air was electric.
