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My jaw tightens to the point I’m worried something will pop. “I’m warning you, Baylor. Shut your goddamn mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”
Brian laughs, too wasted to take me seriously. He’s banking on me having control of my temper. On the football field, I never lost control. Never let myself feel much emotion—positive or negative. Right now? I’m furious.
“You won’t do shit, Stevens. Youneverdo shit, which is why we beat your ass for four years straight.” Brian glances at Natalie. “We all know who’s the better quarterback. But only you can answer: who’s better in bed?”
The control that’s been dangling by a thin thread snaps. I step forward, so I’m right in his face. “I told you to shut your fucking mouth, Baylor.”
He laughs. “Yeah, yea—”
I cock my fist and take a swing. My hand hits his face with a satisfying smack, forcibly removing the smirk Baylor was wearing. I have the element of surprise, plus the advantage of being sober.
Brian stumbles to the side before ending up in the grass, one hand cradling what I think will turn into a black eye. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, fast and undiluted. I’ve been involved in fights before. Tempers run hot on and off the field, and I’ve pulled teammates apart. But I’ve never instigated a fight. It’s never beenmyfight. And it’s never involved someone I cared about.
People are starting to filter out from the party, most of them with their phones out. I can’t let myself wonder or care what they saw or heard. I’ll deal with the consequences later.
I start walking toward my car, Natalie right behind me. Neither of us say a word as I start the car and drive down the street.
She speaks first. “Is your hand okay?”
I flex my fingers. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
It’s not until she asks that I realize I’m starting preseason training tomorrow. If I had injured my hand, that would have had serious repercussions.
“Take a left up ahead.”
I do as she says, flicking the blinker on and turning. A few turns later, I recognize her house.
Natalie’s phone doesn’t stop buzzing the whole way. I can feel my phone vibrating in the pocket of my shorts.
“You can stop here,” she says. “I’m going to sneak in. My dad set a curfew as part of his subpar parenting.”
I do as she says, idling along the curb.
“There are videos. It’s everywhere.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“I’m so sorry, Liam. I shouldn’t have called you.”
“I’m glad you did. It’s not your fault that Baylor came out. Or that he’s such an asshole.”
“He is an asshole,” Natalie agrees.
We’re both silent. I resist the urge to tap my fingers on the steering wheel to break it somehow.
“Now always ends, right?” I finally say.
“Right.” She unclips her seatbelt. “Good luck with your season.”
“Thanks. You, um too. With cheerleading, you know.”
“Yeah. I know.”
She smiles, then opens the door. I struggle against the strong urge to reach out and slam it shut. To trap her in here with me, for just a little while longer.
Natalie climbs out and hesitates. For a wild second, I think she’s going to stay. Instead, she turns around and says, “The answer is you, by the way.”
“The answer to what?”
