Surprise and concern have my head swinging to face him. Without realizing it, I’ve stepped closer to him and my hand is reaching for his chin to turn his face to get a better look.
“What happened?”
Roman jerks back out of my reach. “Nothing. Mind your own business, Bible Boy.”
My hand falls back to my side and I retreat to my locker as he turns back to his. His jaw is tight, the muscle in his cheek jumping.
“Did you get in a fight or something? There’s no way my father will let you take Mary out if you’re a troublemaker.”
He moves faster than I expect, once again slamming my back into the lockers. Roman is in my space, damn near pushed up against me, and my body is struggling to decide whether it wants him here or if it should be afraid. So far, enjoying it is winning.
“I said mind your own fucking business. I don’t need your bitch ass telling me what to do,” he growls in my face.
He smells so good. Musky and clean, almost sharp. It’s intoxicating. Blood rushes to my groin and I shove him away, needing to breathe air that’s not saturated with him.
“Stay away from me and stay away from my sister.”
A smirk lifts one side of his lips, and I despise how my eyes are drawn to them.
“Mary will be a tasty treat that I enjoy corrupting.” He’s walking away, slamming his locker shut before I can respond without yelling.
Ripping my book out of my locker, I slam it shut and stomp to my first class, yanking the door open and dropping into my seat.
I hate that prick.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m still stewing. Self-righteous jerk.
I haven’t been back to my locker, since I don’t want a risk running into him. He’s a dick and I really don’t want to get tossed into the lockers. Again.
After grabbing my food, I plop down next to Anna and her friends. I’m picking at the food, not eating, and definitely not paying attention to the girls’ conversation. I’m too lost in my head. In my frustration.
What the hell is wrong with that guy? I was just asking him what happened. I was trying to be nice.
The cafeteria goes quiet suddenly. Lifting my head, I look around but see nothing. A split second later, freezing water is dumped on my head.
“AH!” The sound is forced from my lungs as my body tightens up against the attack.
“There we go,” Roman says behind me.
Spinning around, I stand directly in front of him, fuming.
“Just trying to cool you down, you looked a little steamed.”
All around him, hoots of laughter echo from his audience. They double over while clenching their stomachs. Roman looks so proud of himself and his stupid little joke.
My shirt is drenched and sticking to my skin, forcing goosebumps to pop up. I’m furious. I’m cold. And I snap.
Shoving against his chest, I make him step back to keep his balance, obviously not expecting it.
“You want to fight, Bible Boy?” His voice is quiet and deadly. “Do you really think you could beat me?”
“Leave me the hell alone.”
Movement behind his group of Neanderthals has me switching my focus. Mary has come out of the bathroom and is making her way toward us.
She gasps when she sees me. “What happened to you?”
Roman drapes an arm over her shoulder and chuckles. “I was just helping him cool down. I know you west coasters aren’t used to the Southern heat.”
She looks me over but stays quiet with only, “Oh.”
Roman’s lip curls slightly as he pats my cheek twice. “Good talk, Bible Boy. We will have to do it again soon.”
With that, he turns Mary away from me, the group following along behind him as he leads her out of the room.
I can feel the eyes of everyone in the room turned to me. No one will talk to me after this. It’s the second week of school and I’m already a social outcast while my little sister is buddying up with His Royal Highness. It’s not fair. I hate this place. I just want to go home.
Chapter Seven
Roman
The second Friday of the school year means one thing: football. Our first home game.
The bright lights illuminating the field give me power. The cheer of the crowd when I throw a touchdown pass makes me invincible. There’s nothing like the high of playing football. It’s a blessing and a curse. Luckily, the swelling around my eye has gone down enough that it’s not affecting my vision.
After halftime, I’m back on the field, ready to send Sullivan High back home with their tails tucked between their legs.
The offensive line sets, and I call out the play and yell, “HUT!”
The ball is instantly in my hands and the team is moving. The boys tasked with protecting me are overpowered, and I’m forced to move out of the pocket. Downfield, Taylor is open, and I let the ball fly while I’m on the move. A defensive end that moves faster than his size leads you to believe slams me to the ground, knocking the wind from my lungs, sending pain shooting through my ribs, and my head pounds.
The surrounding noise is muffled by the screaming of my body. I can’t get a deep breath. I try to suck in air, but two hundred pounds of defender is still lying on my back. My ribs scream at me, but there’s nothing I can do to get the pressure off.
Somewhere in the haze of pain, the whistle blows, and the fat ass on me moves. I’m finally able to get some air and I rest my helmet on the field, needing a fucking minute.
Forcing myself off the ground, I groan as I get up and my world spins. I fucking hate my father.
Taylor comes up to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“You a’ight, man?”
“I’ll live.” I shrug him off, making sure my face is passive. “Nice catch.”
He smiles. “Thanks.”
The line sets again and waits for my order. It’s a rush, knowing all these guys are waiting on my word. I control the game, the clock. Wrapping that power around me, I force my head away from the pain and push through it.
After scoring a touchdown, I jog off the field for a much-needed water break. Pulling my helmet off, I take as big of a drink as I can without wincing. When I look up into the crowd, everyone in town is waving at me or cheering. I’m put on a pedestal here. Everyone watches me, but says nothing. I’m never in trouble for anything. Underage drinking, partying, bonfires, car races. None of it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can feel someone staring directly into my soul. Moving my gaze through the faces until I find the one that’s calling me. It’s Jonah. He’s watching me like no one else ever has. Like he’s trying to figure me out, trying to understand. Standing next to the bleachers, leaning against the metal partition with his hands in his pockets, he doesn’t flinch when I stare back. What is it about him?
He’s easy to rile up, protective of his sister, and not afraid to tell me to fuck off. Why does that make me hard? Shaking my head to get off the preacher’s son, I focus on the game.
The rest of the game, I feel him watching me, and it makes my skin crawl. I missed three passes because I was distracted. Irritated at myself, I pull off my uniform and change into jeans and a clean white t-shirt.
“Hey, man, you coming to…holy fuck. How did you get that?” Taylor’s question is interrupted when he sees my back.