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Nixon walks past me, not once looking in my direction.
“What’s up, Wentworth? You look a little bit green over there,” Scotty chuckles. “Long night?”
“Fuck off, Scotty,” I mutter, pushing past him and entering the locker room.
But does he listen? Of course not. He follows after me, going to his locker, and talking like I didn’t say shit.
“What? Since when are you so secretive?”
“Lately, Wentworth’s too good for us,” Nate, our kicker, comments.
“Since he started hooking up with the mystery woman,” Sullivan smirks, making my back stiffen.
A chorus of hollers and catcalls spreads through the room, making my headache worse.
Great, just great.
“There is no mystery woman.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You two seemed pretty cozy at the party a few weeks back.”
I open my mouth to tell him where he can shove his assumptions when there is a loudbang.
All the voices die down as we turn around to find a pissed-off Nixon glaring at us. “Shut up and get your asses to work.” His eyes meet mine and hold. “Thanks to a certain somebody, Coach is annoyed enough as it is, and you don’t want to piss him off even more.”
“He ain’t the only one who’s pissed, apparently,” Scotty mutters. “What crawled up your ass, Cole? Wife didn’t give it up last night?”
Nixon’s death glare moves from me to the linebacker. “Scotty, the next time you bring up my wife, I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of your head to get it out of your ass. Am I clear?”
Scotty shakes his head and turns to his locker. “Whatever, dude.”
Hoisting my duffle bag higher, I go to my locker.
“I don’t get why you’re pissed at us,” Sullivan says. “If I remember correctly, we were all there on time. It’s not our fault that Wentworth was too busy screwing around to pay attention to time.”
“I wasn’t screwing around. I was…” My words trail off when I realize saying that I was passed out drunk doesn’t sound any better. As a senior and one of the co-captains, I was supposed to set an example for the rest of the team. “Otherwise indisposed,” I finish lamely.
“Hear that, boys? Wentworth was otherwise indisposed.” Sullivan makes the air quotes and shakes his head. “Will you be otherwise indisposed when we’re playing our next game? How about the championship game?”
I grit my teeth. “I was just a few minutes late.Once.” I put in my combination and yank open my locker with more force than necessary. “I know you’d like me not to show up since that’s the only way you’d be able to play, but don’t worry, it won’t happen anytime soon.”
If I dropped a bomb, the silence that followed would be less deafening. But I was so fucking done with Sullivan and his constant jabs. He wants my spot? He better damn well take it because I wasn’t handing it to him.
Grabbing the back of my shirt, I pull it over my head and throw it into my locker before grabbing my jersey.
“You sure?” Nixon asks. His voice is soft, so only I can hear it, but I don’t miss the edge in his voice.
Putting the shoulder pads on, I slide my jersey over my head before I turn to look at my best friend. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Nixon shrugs, closing his locker. “Just that you’re good at turning your back and walking away.”
I clench my jaw. I guess it was only a matter of time before he brought it up.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nixon chuckles humorlessly, “Don’t I?” He takes a step closer, his voice dropping lower. “Because the last time I saw you, I found out you have no problem fucking my sister—my baby sister—behind my back, but you sure don’t mind walking away when things get tough.”
Hushed murmurs spread through the locker room faster than a wildfire, but neither of us pays them any attention.
