Chapter 12
GAbrIEL
“Bro, what the fuck?” Austin storms after me, but I ignore him.
I’m riding a high and I sure as shit don’t need him souring my good mood. I find my boys, Julio and Felix, inside. Both have already changed into their practice gear and are lacing up their cleats before heading outside.
Knowing the two of them, they’ve taken their time, waiting for me so we can step out on the field like a unit, the way we always do. Doesn’t matter if it’s a game or practice. We always show up together.
It wasn’t intentional at first, but it didn’t take long for us to realize that moving as one draws a certain kind of attention. It also demands a level of respect from our teammates, because together, we’re lethal on the field.
I drop my bag beside them and open my locker as I make quick work of tearing off my shirt.
I pull out a pair of shorts and a sleeveless practice tee, doing my best to ignore Holt when he steps up beside me.
This isn’t going to end well. The fucker needs to get his ass on the field, not waste time harassing me over a chick he thinks screwed him over.
“What the hell, man? You were all over her.”
I don’t spare him a glance, but I know Felix and Julio’s interest is piqued when both stop what they’re doing to give Austin their full attention. They’re not even slick about it. Nosy bastards.
I pull out my cleats and shove my backpack in my locker before slamming it closed.
“What’s your issue, Holt?” I lean down, doing up the laces on my shoes.
“You know what my fucking issue is,” he sneers, stepping up on me.
Fuck that. Who does he think he is right now? I shove his chest, forcing him back a step. “No, man. I don’t. You two aren’t together. You have no claim. None of this is your business, so back off before you piss me off.”
“Bullshit. It is my business. You know we fucked—”
“So what?” Anger surges through me. I don’t need the reminder, but there it is. “You fucked, what? One time? Is that supposed to mean something to me? Dude, you fuck everyone.”
Felix snickers. Everyone knows Holt gets around. If he doesn’t want that reputation, then the fucker should stop bragging so much about his conquests in the lockerroom.
“Where the hell is your loyalty, man?”
I snort. Is he kidding right now? “Holt, don’t pretend you haven’t gone after my sloppy seconds. I’m not stupid. I know you fucked my ex—“
“That’s different.”
I spread my hands wide. “How?” I wait but Austin says nothing.
“How is you fucking my ex, a chick I dated for six months, different than me hanging out with one of your one-night stands? Someone you—“ I stab my finger in his direction, “yourself said was only a one-time thing? You didn’t want a repeat. Isn’t that what you told me?”
His nostrils flare.
“Don’t pretend to be torn up that Cecilia’s moving on. You never wanted her to begin with. And don’t pull that loyalty bullshit on me. You don’t get to act surprised when you’ve done nothing to earn mine.”
His jaw flexes. “You’re a dick, you know that?” He storms out of the room and onto the field.
Fuck him. Things don’t have to be like this. He’s the one making it an issue.
I turn and meet Julio’s amused expression, not liking the glimmer in his eyes.
“He’s not wrong,” he says.
Felix chuckles beside him, clearly in agreement.
“About what?”
“You are a dick.” Julio grins.
“Asshole,” I retort, though without any real heat.
“Yeah, yeah. But you love me.”
I throw my shirt at him. “You’re lucky I do.”
The guys make jokes at Holt’s expense as I make quick work of changing. I know they have questions. My no-dating rule during the on season isn’t mine alone. Julio and Felix abide by it too, so I’m grateful when both let it drop without asking any questions.
It's temporary. It always is with these two. We know one another inside and out. Share all our fucking secrets like teenage girls at a slumber party. But since shit last week was heavy, they’ll give me a day, maybe two, to fill them in before they bombard my ass for information.
I love these two assholes. They’re family.
I catch sight of Cecilia, ass in the stands like I asked her to be. She’s got her nose in a book, pretending to be fully engrossed in whatever she’s reading, but I don’t buy it. This is her saving face. Acting like the kiss between us was no big deal.
That's fine. I’ll let her have the next hour to regroup, but when I’m done, I’m going to remind her what a big fucking deal shit really is between us.
I’ve never been like this over a chick. I’ve barely gotten to know her, but my thoughts are already consumed by her.
She makes me impulsive. Possessive. Crazy.
It doesn’t help that Holt decided to be an asshole, egging me on like that, but I’m willing to throw my friendship with Holt down the drain to keep her—not that it was much of one to begin with but, that’s not like me.
There’s something about Cecilia Russo that calls to that primal part of me. The part currently insisting she’s mine.
I shake myself out, doing my best to keep my head in the game and my eyes off the girl in the stands. The first thirty minutes of practice are normal. Coach puts us through the regular gauntlet of drills. Nothing out of the ordinary. But things take a turn when we line up to scrimmage.
We split into two teams; my group plays shirts. The other half of the team plays skins. I’m an attacking midfielder, my usual position, so it's not uncommon for me to take the occasional hit in a game from an opposing defensive player.
Sometimes it’s an accident. Usually it’s intentional. But it’s all part of the game. I don’t really think about it too much.
What is unusual is when your own teammate takes cheap shots every chance he gets, which is what Holt does now.
I take an elbow to the ribs. A jab to my side. He slices my shin with his cleat, tearing through skin. The asshole isn’t pulling any punches.
Blood spills down my leg, and a quick glance confirms it’s bad. Coach shoots me a concerned look from the sidelines, spotting the blood, and I know he wants to signal me off field. But that’s not going to happen. Holt is gonna get his first.
On the next play, I get the ball and dribble up field, dodging the offensive players as Holt hangs back, his steps mirroring mine.
He’s supposed to be their striker, so he shouldn’t be hanging back, waiting for my approach.
Matching my moves. His ass should be on the other side of the field, keeping open until he can either steal the ball or someone passes it to him to score.
He’s so fucking obvious about it, which only pisses me off. When only a few feet separate us, I pick up speed and slam into him. I don’t even bother to make it look like an accident. I lay his ass out and score before he gets back on his feet.
I’m fouled. No surprise there. The shot doesn’t count, but what do I care? Seeing Holt on his back like that—wincing as he climbs to his feet—makes it worth it.
The fucker should back off now if he knows what’s good for him, but instead, the asshole jams a thumb between my ribs when Coach isn’t looking. I let loose a string of curses and lose the ball to another player, but not before I rear back, slamming my elbow into his nose.
“Goddammit,” Austin shouts, cupping his hands over his nose. Blood oozes between his fingers. “That was on purpose.”
I lift my shirt to wipe the sweat from my brow. “Sorry, man. You know how it is when you’re laser-focused. Didn’t even realize you were there.” I shrug. “Kinda like when you got me in the ribs. And kicked me in the shin.”
His eyes darken, but he doesn’t say anything else as he storms off the field heading for our assistant coach, Jameia.
I’m pretty sure I broke his nose. And I’m not upset about it.
Felix jogs up beside me, Julio hot on his heels, and both boys watch me with varying expressions as I eyeball Holt’s back.
“What’s his deal?” Felix asks, rolling his neck from side to side like he’s gearing up for a fight. “I saw what he did to your leg. Was all that shit on purpose?”
I shrug. “I can’t prove it. But yeah. He’s taken cheap shots since we started.”
Their eyes narrow. “Because of her?” Julio tilts his head up to the stands. “He’s going to all the trouble over a girl?”
I nod. “Guess so.”
“That’s unlike him.”
“I know.” I’ve ever seen him get attached or so much as care about any girl he’s been with. Not about their feelings or well-being. What’s his play here? One minute he’s talking shit about her, and the next he’s throwing blows my way because I want her? He’s acting like a jealous ex.
A muscle ticks in his Julio’s jaw. “We gonna punish him?”
I think about it for a minute, debating whether he deserves that level of attention. My eyes meet his and Holt flips me off from the sidelines when he thinks no one is looking. Idiot.
“Yeah, we’re punishing him.” Sometimes, lessons need to be learned. This one will be his.
“Shit. About time!” Felix says with a grin. “I can’t stand that pretentious asshole. I don’t even need a reason to throw down with you and work that pendejo over.” That fucker.
I hold out my fist and he pounds it. I knew he’d be down.
Felix loves a good fight. Especially when he can go in all covert.
He’s down for a face-to-face brawl too, but what he really enjoys is when he can get inside someone's head. He’s a manipulative shit.
Gets his rocks off by making dudes bigger than him scared.
It’s an endearing quality, if you ask me.
“Just today or for the foreseeable future,” Julio asks.
“That’s up to him.”
He grunts and glares out across the field. “Yeah. Foreseeable future it is.”
Holt has too much pride to do the smart thing and let this go. Doesn’t matter that he started it. He’s dumb enough to think he can finish it.
He’s about to learn he’s wrong.