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“What the hell?”
“I don’t like you, asshole. I don’t like how you talk; I don’t like how you act, and I sure as shit don’t like how you treat your girlfriend. We might share a team and a classroom, but that’s it,” I added. “Don’t misconstrue my tolerance of your presence as an invitation to speak to me about anything other than hurling.”
“Seriously?” I watched as recognition flashed across his face. “You’re still holding on to that fight we had?”
Damn straight I was.
“Jesus, Lynchy.” He shook his head in frustration. “That was a year ago, and Aoife let it go, so why can’t you?”
“More fool her,” I replied flatly. “I guess she doesn’t know you as well as I do.”
His brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I know you’re a dog,” I replied, deciding against taking a shower. Fuck it, I would have one at home later. Stuffing my gear into my bag, I grabbed a pair of sweats and dragged them on. “And not a very discreet one at that.”
His dark eyes widened like saucers as awareness dawned on him. “Are you talking about Danielle Long? Because nothing happened with her, I swear—”
“Only because she didn’t want it to happen.” Pulling a fresh t-shirt on, I kicked on my runners, and tossed my gear bag over my shoulder. “Yeah, dickhead, I saw the sex-texts you sent her over the February midterm. The many,manytexts you sent her.” Sliding my hurley through the earholes of my helmet, I gripped the middle of the handle and gave him a seething look. “I have your card marked, ya little perv.”
“What were you doing going through Danielle’s phone?”
“She showed them to me,” I replied. “Right around the same time she asked me to give you a message of her own.” Offering him a menacing glare, I said, “Do you need me to explain the message in detail or have you gotten the gist?”
“Those texts were only a joke,” he defended with a fake laugh. “A piss-take with the lads.”
“Sure they were,” I deadpanned. “I already told ya before that Molloy’s old man is good friend of mine. Fuck her over and I’ll take it as a personal insult.”
“Take it easy, lad. It’s not that deep,” Ricey huffed defensively.
“Does Aoife know that?” I shot back.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he growled. “It was a few texts. I didn’t ride the girl, and, besides, myself and Aoife were off at the time.”
“Going by those messages you sent her friend; I think it’s pretty clear that you and Aoife should be off permanently.”
“Oh yeah, because that would suit you down to the ground, wouldn’t it?” he argued back. “You’d only love that, wouldn’t you, Lynchy?”
“Does she know about the manymanyother girls that you’ve been messing around with when her back is turned?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit.”
“Bull-true,” I hissed, pointing a finger at him. “I see you, Ricey. Iseeright fucking through you, asshole.”
“And I see you right back,” he snarled, shoving to his feet. “At least have the balls to admit why you’re so interested in my love life.”
Bristling, I stepped towards him, and then had to take a breath in order to stop myself from lashing out, from springing forward and throttling the bastard, but it wasn’t coming easy to me.
“It’s so fucking obvious, lad.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re jealous because I’m with her.”
“Keep it up,” I warned, chest rising and falling quickly, as my temper rose. “I dare you.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Eddie said, clearly noticing the tension, as he came to stand between us, with several of the team joining him – Podge included. “What’s going on here, lads?”
“None of this grudge you’re holding against me has anything to do with being friends with her dad,” Ricey said with a smirk. “You’ve got a problem with me because I got the girl that you’ve wanted since day dot. She’s with me, not you, and it drives you fucking nuts.”
“That’s enough, lads, we’re all on the same team here.”
Fury emanated from every pore in my body, as I balled my hands into fists at my sides and willed myself to not react. “If I wanted your girlfriend, asshole, she’d be with me.”
