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For the next forty minutes, Andy called pitches and Ryan riffled them at him with laser-like precision. His game was on fire, and he had to admit Andy matched him and set up the catch perfectly. Maybe coach was right, and everyone had something redeemable about them. Andy could catch a ball. Too bad he was such a waste of space everywhere else.
“That’s good for today, boys,” Coach called. “I want your arm fresh for tomorrow. Ry, go hit the gym and cool down.”
Andy jogged up to him as he left the field. “Nice job out there today.”
“Thanks,” Ryan replied.
“So we good?” Andy asked.
“We’re fine on the field, but outside of that I have nothing to say to you, man.”
“Jesus, get over it. It’s not like I did anything to you.”
“It’s not about doing anything to me. What you did to Peyton is messed up.”
“She loved every minute of it.”
“Yeah? She loved having you take video without her consent? Oh wait, it was having you show a private moment to the entire fucking team that she loved.Right.”
“Come on, man, girls like her? They know the score.”
“Girls like her?” Ryan’s shoulders tensed. “I don’t care who the woman is, asshole. There’s a reason what you did is illegal. Because it’s fucking wrong, and if you can’t see that, then there is something seriously wrong with you.”
“You’re just jealous that she never enjoyed sucking your cock as much as she did mine and that video proves it.”
Rage unlike anything he’d ever felt before surged through his body. He punched Andy square in the face. The other man stumbled, righted himself, and charged at Ryan. Pain lanced through his face as Andy’s fist connected with his cheek. Ryan swung and swung, connecting his fists with any part of Andy he could. Arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him off Andy. Blood covered Andy’s face, his nose pushed off to the side, and Ryan couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Good, he was glad he’d broken the fucker’s nose.
“What the fuck, Ry?” Pete’s voice growled in his ear, and he realized it was his best friend who’d pulled him off the other man.
He shrugged Pete off. “It’s fine, I’m good.”
“You’re good?” Coach Gill yelled. “You’re good? What the actual fuck you two?” Coach stepped in so close Ryan could feel him vibrating with anger. This would not be good. His hot breath hit Ryan in the face a moment before he poked him in the chest and yelled, “Did I not just ask you if you needed to talk? If there was anything I needed to know, and you looked me in the eye and said everything was fine. And now this?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw the manager, Cal Schneider, storming onto the field.
“You two, my office, now,” Cal growled.
“Yes sir,” Ryan mumbled.
“Be repentant,” Pete whispered.
Ryan scowled at his best friend. “That asshole deserved it.”
“Not the right answer if you want to play tomorrow, dude.”
Ryan rubbed his eyebrow and winced. He scrunched up his face, noting several more sore spots. Guess Andy had tagged him more times than he’d thought. He peered over at Andy as he gingerly moved toward the locker room area. By the way he was moving, he was hurting a lot more than Ryan was.
Good.
Asshole deserved it.
Ryan followed Cal and Andy inside the office. “Close the door, Ryan,” Cal ordered.
He shut the door and sat down in the vacant seat beside Andy.
“Alright Simon, Ryan, does one of you want to explain to me what happened out there?”
Ryan gave his hands a once over, taking note of the large split across his knuckles on his right hand. He flexed his fingers. Shit, that hurt.
