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He’s finally making me captain.
After three years of gunning for the position, working my butt off, on and off the field, to show him the gig should have always been mine to begin with, Coach has finally come to his senses. Being captain is a huge accomplishment for any player, but since it’s my senior year at Crestview and college scouts will be sitting in the bleachers, taking notes for most of our games, I need to do everything in my power to stand out. And that means getting as many touchdowns as I can, while showing I’m a team player.
The only one who is none too pleased with the change is the asshole who can’t keep his eyes off my girl as she practices her backflips with the rest of the cheerleading squad. Just like me, Brooklyn wanted the title for himself, and he could have made for a worthy contender if he wasn’t such a dick. Brooklyn might be one of the best linebackers Crestview has ever seen, but he’s a backstabbing prick who would push his own grandma into oncoming traffic if he thought it would improve his game. He only plays for himself, and that makes for a lousy teammate, let alone team captain.
“Damn!” he groans, biting his knuckles exaggeratedly, gaining a few chuckles from the guys warming up next to him. I try to ignore them as best I can, but when some of them discreetly adjust their junk, salivating at the mouth, my head snaps in Val’s direction to see what the fuck is going on. And when I do, my heart almost leaps out of my mouth, watching Val doing splits like it’s second nature to her. She’s become one hell of a gymnast. I’d be the first to praise her dedication for the sport, if her limber body wasn’t putting on a show for the guys on my team, giving them all blue balls. I know their lingering eyes on her is unintentional, but it’s too much for my jealous ass to take.
“Keep your eyes inside your eye sockets, fellas, or I’ll personally shove them back in. You feel me?” I warn with gritted teeth.
Most of my teammates go back to doing Coach’s warm-ups, afraid I’ll deliver on my threat, except for one.
“Aw, come on now, Quaid. You can’t blame a guy for admiring the view,” Brooklyn continues to provoke as he tries to get the guys back on his side. When none of them dare to look at Val again, he realizes he’s shit out of luck. My teammates know I don’t throw around idle threats. If I tell them I’ll beat their ass if they continue to gawk over my girl, they know I’ll deliver.
Brooklyn scowls for less than ten seconds, a sinister smirk replacing his frustration.
“How about you let us have a taste of her, too? I heard she’s into being passed around.”
“The fuck did you say to me, asshole?!” I yell, launching myself at the arrogant bastard.
“You heard me!” he growls, pushing back. “Everyone knows she likes to be tag teamed. So why keep her to yourself and your buddies? We can show her a good time too,” he goads, cupping his dick to drive the point home.
All I see is red from then on out, I swing at his smug face until I feel bone break from beneath my knuckles. I keep punching him ferociously, unsatisfied with the damage I’m causing until I hear the little bitch cry. It takes four guys to pull me away from Brooklyn, and still I struggle in their grip, unhappy they won’t let me end this fucker once and for all.
The only thing that freezes me in place is Coach’s loud whistle ringing in my ear.
“Enough!” Coach shouts, hoping his loud stern voice is enough to simmer my blood that is currently fueled with unbridled rage.
The minute I feel the restraints of my teammates loosen on me, I pounce on Brooklyn once again and head butt the asshole. Little bitch falls like a ton of bricks on the field—out like a motherfucking light. That should shut him up for a while.
“Are you satisfied?” Coach hurls at me, pushing me away from the unconscious body on the ground.
“Pretty much, yeah.” I smile, wiping my busted lip with my forearm. I didn’t feel it, but apparently, the fucker still got a few shots in, if my bloody lip is any indication.
“Oh, you think you’re smart, huh? Well this little show just cost you the game on Friday.”
My eyes go wide, and my heart stops.
“Coach, you have to be kidding!”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he replies with a stern expression on his face, before turning to the two teammates closest to a knocked-out Brooklyn. “Rory! Donavan! You two take Brooklyn to the nurse’s station. Suicides, for the rest of you! I can’t even look at any of you right now,” he adds, turning his back to me, pissed beyond measure.
“Coach, you can’t bench me. You need me in the game,” I say, trying to reason with his logic, running after him.
“I can put Rory in your place.”
“Rory? But he’s a dud!” I shout, throwing my hands in the air in frustration.
“Careful now,” Coach grunts, slowing his step for me to keep up. “If your teammates hear you talk trash about them that way, you won’t have many friends on the team.”
“I’ve got friends. I don’t need any of them to like me,” I mumble under my breath.
“Spoken like a true asshole. Word of advice, Quaid, no one likes a cocky shit.”
“Coach, I’m sorry, okay?” I huff, frustrated. “I’ll do better. I’ll be better. But you have got to let me play!” I insist, pulling the ends of my hair disgruntledly.
“I don’t have to do jack shit. I told you I’d give you a chance, but you needed to show me that you are the type of captain this team needs. That means having a clear head and not falling for every baited word an opponent says to you.”
“He was talking shit about my girl, coach. A real man defends his woman,” I seethe.
