2. Calvin
CHAPTER TWO
calvin
“Duke!”
My entire body goes stiff at the sharp cry through the hallways. My last name. One I’m not proud of. The Duke family is pretty big around Big Bend. They own the most prominent drilling company in the state.
Oil.
It’s the lifeblood and the poison of our world. When it’s good, it’s good. When it’s bad, people are losing their houses left and right. Struggling to put food on the table. I want nothing to do with the family business.
Nothing.
As much as I want nothing to do with the cocky motherfucker strutting toward me right now. He’s wearing his letterman jacket in August, for Christ’s sake. Because guys like Devon Shields need everyone to know they’re on the football team.
I guess there’s more to the town than oil. Football is king here too.
So with my skill on the field and my grandpa’s oil legacy, I should be the most popular kid in the whole school. Except that one thing . . .
Devon slings his arm around me, but it’s not friendly. It’s aggressive. I feel it, and he definitely wants me to feel it. That seething hatred below the surface. “What?” I ask in a clipped tone, my entire body stiff and fighting the urge to shove him away from me.
He’s not my friend.
No one here is my friend.
“Oh, don’t be like that. Didn’t you miss me over summer?” he asks, knowing the answer.
“What?” I ask again, removing his arm from around my shoulder, though I do it a hell of a lot nicer than I want to.
“There’s a new QB this year.”
My brow furrows. Fucking duh. The quarterback from last year graduated. “That’s not news. Coach already announced Billy was going to be QB this year.” The kid is only a sophomore and drops the ball far more than he manages to throw it, but it’ll be fine.
His confident smirk makes me want to slap that grin right off his face, but I remain calm. His smile is wolfish though, like he can taste chaos. “Oh, so you didn’t hear?”
I narrow my eyes, beyond sick of him.
“From what I hear, Billy won’t be starting at quarterback this year,” he tells me, and I frown but try not to feed whatever need he’s trying to get right now.
When I don’t ask for clarification, the smug fucker just continues, “It seems our new quarterback happens to share the same name with our head coach.”
I can’t help but take the bait then. “What the hell are you talking about?” It’s not like Coach has a son. His daughters are barely old enough to be in school. So like always, I’m going to assume Devon is full of shit.
“I’m talking about our new starting quarterback is none other than Coach’s little brother. A brother who happens to be living with him.”
I frown deeply, hating that I’m giving him any sort of reaction.
“That’s bullshit. Coach wouldn’t do that.
” Zimmerman is a good man. One of the few around here, if you ask me.
No way would he give special treatment to someone he’s related to.
Or anyone for that matter. He’s been the best coach I’ve ever had.
That wolfish smile is back and so is the urge to punch him. “He would, and he did. Just putting little brother on the team’s roster without any consideration for the team.” He shakes his head as if he’s deeply disappointed.
There’s no way that’s true though. Just no way in hell. He’s just trying to get a rise out of me.
“You tell him the news?” Steven Adler walks up, just as annoying as Devon and far too amused at the thought of my reaction.
Devon snickers. “I was just telling him. I think he’s curious.” He waggles his eyebrows like a total asshole. “Though we already knew that, right?” He nudges Steven, and they both howl in laughter, as if it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.
See, here’s the thing. I did something stupid last year. Something really, really stupid. Something I want to forget, but they aren’t letting it drop. I can’t even think about it because it makes me sick when I do.
The thing that really sucks is I hurt Austin. Austin, who was nice to me when I didn’t deserve it. Austin, who didn’t out me. I outed myself . . . and him. Who somehow found it in himself to come and check on me after it all.
And I pushed him away. Because I couldn’t be seen with him.
I couldn’t be around him. It was dangerous.
I thought maybe they’d all move on to bigger gossip, to something juicier.
But apparently, the school’s largest and most feared left tackle—the younger brother of Curtis Duke—the son of Randall Duke—kissing a boy was the juiciest of juice.
They haven’t had the balls to outright bully me, like my older brother, Curtis, did to anyone he deemed worthy of his fists and pushing around. Nah, none of them would dare go against me, but that doesn’t mean they don’t fuck with me any chance they get.
“Whatever,” I say, grumbling as I swing my backpack over my shoulder, wanting to make my exit. “Coach wouldn’t do that.”
“He would.” Steven steps in front of me, blocking my exit. “I heard my aunt telling my dad about it yesterday. He was not happy.”
I fight rolling my eyes because that’s a reaction. Steven’s aunt is a teacher at the school, and his father is a former football player who can’t let his glory days go and is now a local cop. I still don’t believe it though. Coach Zimmerman doesn’t play favorites.
“Yeah. All right,” I say, forging ahead, but Steven doesn’t budge.
“Is Devon right? Are you a little bit curious about the new guy on the team?” His voice is taunting, his body language saying he’s looking for a fight.
“Fuck off,” I bite out and then flinch because goddammit, I just want to get this year over with.
Technically—and this is another thing they love to tease me about—I should have graduated last year.
I had some issues with my ears when I was a little kid, and they held me back a year in kindergarten.
I’m almost nineteen and so beyond done with this bullshit.
But I can’t quit.
I just need to get through this year. One last year.
“Aww, I think you are curious, big guy.” Steven dares to pat my chest with his hand, and he’s lucky I don’t rip it right off. “And that’s okay. You’ll be able to get your fill at practice.”
“Uh-oh . . .” I look in the same direction as Devon when he says that. “Maybe you’ll get a chance to get your fill right now. That’s gotta be the Zimmerman little brother.”
I look at the guy in question. He’s not overly large or athletic-looking, kind of squirrelly and thin, if you ask me.
But there’s no missing the slight flex of his bicep when his shirt sleeve rises as he walks.
He’s toned. Hopefully from years of football, if these two fucknuggets are to be believed and he’s actually joining the team.
His jet-black hair is too styled. I don’t like it. It’s wavy and perfectly coiffed. He’s wearing a T-shirt that’s a little too tight and clinging to his thin frame. His jeans are doing the same thing, hanging low on slim hips. His jawline is too sharp, it’s almost jarring.
He’s too pretty.
I snarl in his direction, and he must hear it. His eyes—some weird shade of golden brown that flickers—meet mine. He cocks his head to the side, assessing me. All eyes are on him. We don’t often get new blood around here. But his eyes don’t pull away from me.
And then he does the damnedest thing. He smiles in my direction. With bright white teeth, making his whole face light up.
What the fuck is he doing?
“Are we interrupting the moment?” Devon singsongs next to me, and I jolt. Fuck me. I was staring. And they saw me doing it.
The new Zimmerman walks past us with a cool confidence he has no right to feel so soon, and I force myself not to look at him when he does. I glare at Devon and Steven, but I don’t give them an in. I don’t ask them what they’re talking about. I don’t acknowledge them at all.
“Ha.” Steven slaps me on the back. “See you at practice. You better keep it in your pants. I don’t imagine his big brother would appreciate you drooling all over him like you just were.”
I was not.
Fuck!
This guy is going to be a problem.