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Okay, so there’s something deeper at play here. I take the cue to back off. “Anyone going to cut me in?”
Darryl grabs the deck of cards and shuffles them sloppily. “She’s a stubborn whore bitch, Fletch. You don’t want to fuck with that.”
Shit. We’re doing this.
“Hey,” I say. The edge of seriousness in my tone must be evident, because Fletch freezes halfway to reaching for his beer, and Demarius looks up from his phone. “I don’t know what things were like around here before me, but on my team, we respect women.”
Darryl opens his mouth. I put up my hand to stop whatever stupid shit he’s going to say next.
“Even if she’s your ex and you think she did you wrong.” I look him right in the eyes. “You got that?”
Darryl glances around the group, rolling his eyes. “Got what, exactly?”
“Need me to repeat myself?” I set my beer down, deliberately slow, and lean back in my seat. “You should know I don’t like saying the same thing twice.”
Darryl stands. His shoulders are set, his fair face flushed with anger. On the field, I’m going to have to watch to make sure our competitors don’t bait him with the wrong taunt. He’ll draw penalties with a temper like this. “You got something to say to me, you tell me to my face. Don’t tip-toe around, Callahan, it’s not cute.”
I stand too. Maybe it’s dumb, but I’m pleased I have at least two inches on the guy. I lean in close, until we’re almost touching. “Fine. Call a girl—any girl—a name like whore or bitch again, and I’ll fuck you up.”
He scoffs. “Like you’d fight me.”
“I won’t fight you.” I look around at our teammates, who are hanging on every word of this interaction like we’re WWE heavyweights in the spotlight. “But I won’t throw to you.”
The threat practically echoes around the room. Sure, I won’t punch him, even if he deserves it. But if I make him invisible on the field? That’s worse than being sidelined. Darryl knows it, I know it, and so does every guy in this room.
“Oh shit,” Demarius says. “He’s serious.”
“You can’t do that,” Darryl says. “I’m one of the best receivers on this team. You need me.”
“You think I can’t?” I tilt my head to the side. “Why do you think Coach recruited me? To be a good little soldier or to be a fucking leader?”
Darryl’s mouth snaps shut.
I glance around at the rest of the boys. “What do you think? Why am I spending senior year here?”
“To win us a fucking national championship,” Bo says.
“Yeah,” says Fletch. “National champs or bust.”
I snap my fingers as I point over to him. “Exactly. And if you want that, you play by my rules. You got that?”
My demand hangs in the air for a long moment. I can hear the music in the background, thumping the beat into the walls. This is the make-or-break moment. Not what I expected it to be, but here it is, and if I don’t get the boys on board now, this season is going to be hell.
Then Bo says, “Hell yeah,” and everyone else is nodding and voicing their assent. Someone claps my shoulder, but I don’t tear my gaze away from Darryl, who is looking very much like he wishes he could take a swing at me.
“Got it,” he says finally. He shoulders past me roughly, heading out of the room.
Christ, I feel bad for the girl that had the misfortune of dating him.
Chapter 4
Bex
I stand in the corner, watching as Laura dances with her boyfriend, Barry. They’re in the honeymoon stage again after yet another “maybe we’re done” conversation, and honestly, there’s a real possibility of frottage happening in front of half the party. As it is, they’re grinding and making out like they can’t see the other dancers, the spirted beer pong game taking place across the dance floor, or the game of strip poker spilling over from the next room.
I’m about three seconds from ripping off my stupid halo and bolting out into the humid August night.
Darryl arrived a while ago, accompanied by half of McKee’s football team. He didn’t spot me; fortunately, I was in the corner, chatting with some of the girls I’m friends with through Laura. But even though he made his way further into the house, into one of the other rooms filled to the brim, I can feel his presence.
