Chapter Two #3
There’s a faint ‘oooo’ amongst the ladies, placing me firmly in a sexism war I wasn’t ready for. On the topic of not being ready, I haven’t picked up a crosse in months, and I probably should have considered that before opening my big mouth. Everest’s face doesn’t flinch, but his eye twitches.
“Okay, Meg,” he says simply, as if I didn’t leave pieces of myself in every blade of grass on this damn field. And that’s before I was taken against my will. “Tomorrow lunch. It’s a date.” The rage that’s been simmering inside me all morning erupts like a flash fire.
This cocky asshole. He wants me to snap. He’s begging me to fall apart in front of all these people so he can prove that I’m broken. That I can’t handle my own shit, never mind an entire team’s, and I wish he was wrong.
I’m preparing to lunge across the table when he steps around it, closing the distance between us. His head drops, lowering his voice for my ears only.
“You’re only going to embarrass yourself.
If you want out, you know where to find me.
” I smell the faint trace of peppermint gum and narcissism on his breath.
It takes everything in me to stand tall, although I’m shaking with restraint.
Everest grins like he’s won something, his hand patting my shoulder condescendingly as he starts to walk away. “Good luck, Faker.”
Do you know what? Fuck restraint. Today, I choose violence.
Whipping around, I grab Everest’s expensive polo shirt, twist the material around my hand and drag him back towards me.
At the same time, my right fist sails forward and hits home in his Adam’s apple.
It has no right protruding so much anyway.
A choking sound erupts from Everest, wiping the smirk clean off his face.
He coughs violently, hand clutching his throat, knees buckling slightly as he stares up at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Like I’ve broken some unspoken rule. Like he hadn’t been daring me to lose control from the second I stepped onto this damn field.
“What the fuck?!” someone shouts behind me.
“She really has gone crazy.”
“Lost her freaking mind.” More mutters fly in and any hopes I had of laying low just died a sudden death. Cleats scramble across the grass, the startled yells of players and spectators alike, but I don’t move.
I just stand there, chest heaving, adrenaline burning like wildfire through my limbs. My hand is still clenched from the punch. My heart is pounding in my ears.
Everest straightens slowly, regaining his composure far too quickly for my liking. He could have had the courtesy to stay down for at least a full minute. My ego kinda needs it right now.
At least there’s a red mark blooming along the column of Everest’s neck where my fist landed.
His breathing is ragged, wheezing through parted lips.
Those sea-glass green eyes lock onto mine with something darker than fury.
He doesn’t speak right away. He just stares.
And then he laughs. It’s hoarse, the sound twisted with pain, but it cuts through the noise around us like a blade.
The kind of laugh you hear right before the Reaper arrives to drag you into the depths of hell.
His two right-hand jackoffs move toward him, but he waves them off, refusing to break eye contact with me.
“I’m glad to see your mean streak hasn’t been doused,” he rasps, voice strained and broken at the edges, but filled with dangerous amusement. “I’d have been so disappointed if you lost your fire.”
My teeth grind together, holding myself still. I want to hurt him, not humor him. But as per usual, Everest manages to spin everything in his favor. He steps forward again, ignoring the alarmed shouts from the faculty member now charging across the field.
“I can’t wait to see what you bring tomorrow.
I’m going to lie awake all night thinking about it.
” He winks, and a part of my soul withers.
God, I hate him. The whole privileged, unbeatable jock thing is grating beneath my skin, causing my blood to boil over.
Before I can think of something harsh to respond, arms slip around mine, the staff member most likely, trying to pull me away.
I resist, refusing to be the one who leaves first. I’ve earned my place here.
I’ve suffered beyond reason, and none of it was for Everest Calloway to mock me and call me ‘Faker’.
Sensing my stubbornness, Everest laughs again and turns away.
He leaves, uncaring about the rest of the hopefuls patiently waiting their turn.
Claire is among them, her eyes refusing to meet mine.
In fact, they all are avoiding looking my way as if I’m tainted.
As if I’m trash. I twist my arms free of the guy holding me like I’m something feral, heart hammering and breath sharp in my chest.
I was once queen of this field, until I was reduced to begging in the dirt.
This isn’t my turf anymore, but I can’t seem to let go.
I can’t let someone else take all of my hard work from me, even if I had no intention of reclaiming my captain’s title until around ten minutes ago.
Everest has unleashed something I wasn’t ready to face.
I want his pain to replace my own. I want revenge.