Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Of course, she wouldn’t let it go. “Seriously, we’re all fed up with your attitude.” She came over and loomed above me as I continued my punishment for being late. Her expression was righteous. “You should make me co-captain.”
I paused at the top of my sit-up and blinked at her. “What?”
“You still want to be our only captain? Prove it and start acting like it.”
The day had gotten off to a great start, and then immediately crashed and burned. I was tired. Tired of letting everyone down, and tired of Lisa pushing me around. I needed to take some control back. I launched to my feet. “Okay, you want me to be a captain? Gimme twenty pushups, Lisa.”
“What?” she gasped. “Why?”
“For the mutiny you’re trying to stage.”
Her face pinched into an ugly expression. “That’s not fair.”
“She’s right,” Courtney said. “It should be at least fifty.”
Lisa’s cold gaze went from Courtney, her recent whipping post, to me. I could see Lisa considering her options. Some sort of decision was made, and her voice was low and threatening toward me. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Lisa nodded. She almost looked satisfied as she sank down into her first pushup.
-33-
JAY
Driving bass blasted from the speaker system in the gym. The lifting regimen for this afternoon was light. It always was before gameday. Today was about maintaining and priming our muscles, staying loose and not sore.
“Fuck me,” Darius said, looking around the place, “you getting nostalgic?”
It was our last regular season practice, but I’d spent so much time in this gym, it was hard to imagine ever missing it. Plus, it looked like someone’s basement from the 1980’s, and I was pretty sure some of the machines might give me tetanus. I didn’t care much about it. It was a place to get lean and mean. But nostalgic? Forget it. “No. You?”
“Nah, man.” He turned his gaze up to the sentence scrawled on the wall. ‘Those who stay will be champions.’ “Maybe a little.”
I went to the squat rack and Darius followed. He hovered around me like a goddamn helicopter parent. “I don’t need a spot.”
“Okay, dude.” A proud grin widened on his face. “You can stop freaking out now. I did it.”
Um . . . okay. “Did what?”
“I hid your playbook. While you and that ball-busting Buckeye were out, I stuck it in your backpack.”
I hung the bar back in place with a loud, metallic clang. In between rounds one and two of sex last night, I’d taken Kayla downstairs to the vending machines, where I bought us snacks and soda. I’d told her we were carb loading for our next session.
What the hell was he talking about with my playbook?
Darius’ shit-eating grin drained away. “Damn, man, you didn’t even notice?”
I couldn’t find my playbook the other day, but no one ever accused me of being organized. I knew what was in my bag today though, because I only had two classes, which meant two textbooks. My blood pressure climbed. “It wasn’t in my backpack.”
“I stuck it in there. The black one, right by the door.”
Sound from the weight room faded out. Everything around us stopped moving. “That was Kayla’s bag.”
His eyes went so wide, it was scary, and he turned into a statue. On the field, he had great reflexes, but it looked like he’d just been run over by a bus.
Abruptly, he blinked. “I gave your playbook to your girlfriend.” He clearly couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. “The one who goes to Ohio State.”
“Sounds like it,” I said, keeping my voice hushed.
“Fuck. Shit! What the hell are we gonna do?” Panic tightened his shoulders up to his ears, and he took off pacing. One circuit and then he was back, his expression full of relief. “Maybe we’re okay. It’s not like she knows how to read that shit, right? Or who to give it to.”
I was going to throw up. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had puked on the mats, but my rolling stomach had nothing to do with a physically overwhelmed system.
“Right,” I said, dripping with sarcasm. “Because it’s not like her dad used to be the Ohio State defensive coordinator or anything.”
Darius stumbled backward, knocking over a kettlebell, which put the guys around us on alert. I jammed a hand through my hair. I needed to settle down and figure out what the fuck I was going to do.
“Jay . . .” He couldn’t find the words to finish whatever sentence he’d started.
“I’ll get it back. No one will know.”
He looked at me with zero confidence.
“I gotta piss,” I lied, needing privacy. I took the most direct path to the locker room, which Darius was standing in, so as he stepped out of my way, my shoulder slammed against his chest. He was a bigger guy, but he gave ground instantly.