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I was in the middle of stretches when Trent and Michael stumbled up, half-asleep. Both looked like shit.
“Were you two fucks up all night drinking?” I asked.
Trent was five-eight, but he was built like a tank. He always liked to say he was small but mighty, but I bust his balls about being little anyway. He was clutching his stomach with one hand while the other held his bag of gear. He roughly tossed it on the ground.
Michael was just shy of six feet, and he had blonde hair and grey eyes. That alone got him a lot of ass around here—not that it was hard—but the fact that he was actually good looking didn’t hurt. He shook his head at Trent.
“Yes,” Michael said. “Vodka.”
The hand that had been clutching Trent’s stomach rose to cover his mouth as he made a gagging sound. “Oooh, fuck.Brruuugh,” he gagged again. “Don’t say vodka.”
Michael snorted. “Vodka, vodka, vodka. Oh, and that nasty, weird-colored brownish orange juice you douche canoes mixed with it.”
That was all it took.
Trent leaned over and puked repeatedly on the football field.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said, climbing to my feet. “Are you serious right now?” I walked over and knocked his dumb ass over with absolutely no effort at all. “Can you even stand?”
“Wow. He looks like total shit,” Asher said as he walked up, his bag slung over his shoulder as he tied his hair back.
“Yeah. He’s still wasted,” I said, fighting the urge to kick Trent in his ass. Michael, too, for that matter.
Asher made a disgusted face when he saw the puddle of puke and walked around. “Yikes.” He set his bag down and opened it, reaching inside for a bottle. He tossed it to Trent. “There.”
“What’s that?” Michael asked.
“I figured one of you assholes would show up wasted and piss the demon off, so I brought that. My famous hangover cure.”
That got Trent’s attention, but he said nothing as he opened it. It was well known to taste like shit, but it worked wonders. Electrolytes, vitamins, and whatever the hell else he shoved in there.
“Hey,” I said, “you need to puke a couple more times before you drink that. That shit actually needs to stay in your stomach for it to work.”
“I’ll take him,” Michael said, grabbing Trent’s arm and dragging him to his feet.
As they stumbled off, Liam and Everett walked up. “They shwasted?” Liam asked.
I rolled my eyes and walked away. I was already done with everyone’s bullshit. What a start to day one.
“Relax, man,” Asher said as he walked over.
He was careful to keep his distance. He knew when I got pissed that I was capable of blowing up. It was why he called me the demon. It was a play on my name, but he said it worked. I’d have to say that I agreed. Plus, it added to the fear.
“It’ll be fine. It’s just one day,” he said.
“Doesn’t change the fact that I want to beat their asses. We do the same thing every damn year. They have plenty of warning. They know what’s going on, andstill, they show up trashed. It’s our senior year, and we’re the number one team. I’m not getting my ass knocked down because those morons can’t get their shit together.”
“Fuck them, okay?” Asher said. “Besides, Trent will be fine in like… thirty minutes. Tops. Besides, I’m ready to go, and I’m getting dragged down by all this drama. So, pull up your big girl panties, and warm up with me.”
I laughed, despite myself. He was the only person I allowed to talk to me like that. Then again, he was the only person who really knew me. We’d shared everything from toys as kids, to money, to girls when we were older. There have been more than a few devil’s threesomes and sex parties at my house. I mean, my dad and his gold-digging wife were never home, so what else was there to do besides have fun?
“Ladder sprints?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yep. Twenty seconds rest between. Go until the fifty-yard line.”
We lightly jogged our way down to the end of the field and touched the field goal post.
“Ready?” he asked.
