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HUNTER
A siren blares and I jump, my heart leaping all the way into my throat. I look around, trying to make sense of where I am. There’s an alarm clock buzzing at me and I’m in a bed fully clothed.
Wait.
I’m in my bed.
I slam my hand on the clock, feeling tempted to go back to bed since it’s seven in the morning, but I need to go to football practice. Coach is probably already pissed I blew off yesterday. I shakily get out of bed. My body feels like it’s been run over by a semi-truck, then eaten by vultures, and finally regurgitated into a pile of guts. My stomach twists with each and every step I take towards the door.
I lean against the wall on my good shoulder as I slowly trudge towards the bathroom. My teeth feel mossy from not brushing them, my mouth feels like the tooth fairy up and died inside and probably smells like it, too. I shiver as I enter the bathroom. Not because I’m cold. I just can’t seem to stop shaking.
Shrugging off my clothes, I step inside and turn on the water, allowing the liquid to wash away the sweat and smoke permeating off me. Today is a new day. I’ll make better decisions. Different decisions.
I bite back a cry as I lift my arm to shampoo my hair, reminding me I need to find someone to get me more painkillers. Anything really. I just need to numb the pain. That’s it. And then I can play football like I’m supposed to.
I lean my head against the tiled wall, closing my eyes and remembering the night before. Millie had been at the party, yet I barely remember saying more than two words to her. Drew and Jerry had found me. I remember following them upstairs, asking them about what we had taken the night before.
“We don’t have any of that,” Drew had said. “But we have something else. Something better.”
And it had been better.
Way better.
My hands press against the wall as I remember the feeling flowing through me, taking away all the pain, all the worries that seem to be slowly driving me crazy. In one minute nothing mattered anymore. And I hate to admit it, but it’s better than the painkillers.
And I want more.
I shake my head, telling myself there is no way I can have anymore. Football stars don’t do crap like that. If I want a career in the NFL, I need to stop whatever it is I am doing.
I turn off the water and grab a towel, dabbing it against my skin, which feels like it’s about to crawl off my body. I wrap it around my waist and stalk back down the hallway, stopping when I see Lucas and Seth in the kitchen. Seth leans against the refrigerator, eyeing me with worry while Lucas crosses his arms and looks like a pissed bouncer dealing with some annoying hooligans.
I don’t have time for this.
I open my door and stride inside, about to slam it when Lucas catches it and forces it open. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and venomous.
I sigh and shake my head. “Fine, whatever.” I turn around and throw off my towel. “Make it quick. I’m already running late.”
I search for my boxers, finding some that don’t smell like complete ass and pull them up before searching for my football gear.
“Where the fuck were you last night?” asks Lucas.
I shrug. “Around.”
“I was fucking worried,” I hear Seth say. “I was looking for you everywhere. You just up and disappeared.”
I scoff. “Like I haven’t done that shit before.” I pull on my track pants and a t-shirt before grabbing my duffel bag and sliding it over my shoulders. “You guys,” I say with a forced smile as I slowly turn around to face them, “nothing is going on.”
“No,” says Seth while slamming a hand against the wall. “We do have to talk about it. You’ve been acting like a fucking asshole since the ski trip and I want to know why.” He scowls at me. “Is it your shoulder?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I step towards the door, but Lucas and Seth block my way. I roll my eyes. “Guys, I need to get-”
“Is it your mom?” asks Seth.
“Can’t you get it into your thick fucking skull?” I shout, feeling something snap within me at the mere mention of my mother. Sure, the guys know a bit, but they don’t know everything. And they don’t need to know everything. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You need to talk about it,” says Lucas. “I’m not living like this anymore.”
“Like what, Lucas?” I ask while shoving him away from me.
