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Chase was walking beside me.
“I’m not letting him on the team,” I murmured.
“Oh, man,” he groaned and rubbed the top of his head nervously. “Just don’t break any of his bones, okay? They’ll kick you out of the team.”
I didn’t want to make that promise, but I didn’t want to risk my position either. So I nodded. Reluctantly.
I spent the first twenty minutes of our practice tackling Dylan to the ground. His smirk told me he knew what I was doing, but he didn’t draw back. Under different circumstances, I could be impressed.
“Cole!” coach Howard shouted.
I ran to him, feeling my body tense, every muscle in it clenched with contained and controlled anger.
“What the hell are you doing?” coach asked.
“Playing football, coach.”
“Like a savage, I could add. Are you trying to break someone’s limb? Get back there and watch it,” he warned.
I could feel my nostrils burning with every breath I exhaled. Dylan’s stubbornness irritated me. Chase ran to me and pushed me hard.
“Pull yourself together, dickhead.”
I pushed him back, knowing coach did not appreciate aggressive behavior between his players. He wanted us saving all that shit for the night of the game and take it out on the other team. I couldn’t wait until Friday, though.
“You’re ruining the practice,” Chase growled in my face. “He’s spending the entire year here. Are you going to be PMS-ing until graduation?”
“Shut up,” I took my helmet off, tugged on my hair, and inhaled deeply. I used every drop of self-control I had to try to avoid an outburst.
“I hope they finally fuck each other. That will get her out of your system.”
I pushed Chase down on the grass.
“That’s it,” I heard coach Howard yell. “Cole, get your ass off my field. Now!”
I felt hands pulling me away from Chase’s body, and I was guided to the locker room. I took the coldest and longest shower in my life, trying to prevent me from exploding. I wasn’t counting on it, but it helped. It took the edge off. When the rage evaporated, I started thinking clearly again.
This fucking school was my kingdom. No one caused me troubles. Neither the students, nor the teachers. I could probably fuck the principle’s wife in front of the entire administration and then take a dump on his desk, and he would still think I am the best thing that happened to his football team. Well, second best at least, as people reminded me from time to time.
Clementine knew all that. Dylan Williams was about to figure it out too. I would make sure of that.
I decided to watch the rest of the practice and analyze that asshole, so I sneaked under the bleachers. He was good. But I wasn’t letting him on my team. Coach Howard paced back and forth, speaking on the phone.
“Yes, I know, Principal Smith. Believe me. No one wants us to win this year more than me,” he laughed and snorted like a pig.
He paused listening to what was coming out of Principal Smith’s mouth. Bullshit, no doubt. He was an old prick who tolerated everything the jocks were doing. Bad grades, fights, skipping classes, everything was forgiven and forgotten when it came to us. As long as we won games.
“Well, sir, he’s good, but he’s no Tyler Hartley,” Howard continued.
No news there. Clementine’s brother was out of this world good, and Howard was still mourning the fact he switched sports after graduation. I bet he laid awake at night, fantasizing about Tyler playing in NFL and reporters coming to interview his old ass.
I knew I was given the title of second best, which was a huge hit on my ego. I didn’t do second best. That was the reason I still couldn’t stomach what Clementine did to me.
I tuned out the conversation these two were having, and I heard the annoying voice of Hannah, saying goodbye to the cheerleaders. They just finished their practice. I took a look at them, and I spotted Clementine waiting for her friend.
I allowed myself to look at her.
She was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She wore jeans and a simple tee as always, and it made her stand out in the crowd of our overdressed classmates, who preferred short skirts and dresses. Her hazel brown hair was down, flying below her shoulders. It made my fingers twitch with need to run them through it. Her full pink lips were pressed together just like when we occasionally ran into each other in the hallway. Her huge coffee-colored eyes were fixed on the cheerleaders. Her body barely moved. It seemed like she was deliberately trying not to look at the football practice. How long had she been there?
