“You really don’t find any of those guys attractive?”
“Nope, not a single one of them. I prefer brains over brawn.”
Coach stands there for a second, like he’s trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together.
“Please, turn it off,” Ella whines, and my heart jumps into my throat when the guys start laughing, clueing in that it’s Ella’s voice they’re hearing.
“This shit just got real,” Trey yells, and bangs his fists on his desk. I take a fast glance around the room. This is bad. So damn bad.
“Turn it off,” I shout, and all eyes turn to me, including Ella’s. I focus solely on her, take in the pleading, almost desperate look on her face as Peyton’s next words ring out and rattle around in my brain.
“What about Landon Brooks?”
My entire body goes stiff. Goddammit, I need Coach to turn it off as much as I need him to leave it playing. A part of me wants to know what she thinks of me. A part of me doesn’t.
“Oh, Please, Landon’s ego is as big as—”
“His cock?”
“That is not what I was going to say. I mean, come on. I have no idea how big his…his thing is, and I don’t want to know.”
“His thing. Oh, come on, Ella. You can say cock. I know you’ve watched porn before. We’ve watched it together for God’s sake. It’s okay to have fantasies, and that’s normal.”
“Okay fine. His cock. That’s the last time you’re going to hear that word on my lips, and the last time I’m going to think about it.”
“His cock is going nowhere near your lips then?”
Every guy in the room starts hollering, and joking, and shouting out profanities—everyone except me, that is. I glare at them, but they’re too busy having fun with this at Ella’s expense. Goddammit, I need to do something, and I need to do it now. I plant my feet on the floor and stand.
“Turn it off,” Ella pleads again, her voice a small whisper, as her cheeks redden to the color of a ripened cherry. Her hands go to her face, and she lets out a horrified groan. I’m about to throw myself at the laptop when her pleas prompt Coach into action. He hurries to his desk and waves his hand over his laptop like he’s trying to figure out what the hell to do. He stabs a few buttons and the video ends.
I sink back into my seat as the room falls silent. Ella backs up, hits the door with a thump. I’m a second from jumping back up and running to her rescue when Coach slams his laptop shut and takes a fast breath.
“Can I see you outside?” he says to Ella, and when she nods quickly, the two disappear into the hall.
“What the fuck, dude? What did you ever do to her?” Caleb says, and the guys start messing with me, everyone except Brady, who is eyeing me. I give the boys a cocky grin and shrug.
“What can I say.” I point to my scars. “Some like this face, some don’t. My cock, however, all girls like that. She just doesn’t know it yet.” The guys break out in laughter and I sort of feel like a total prick for saying that about Ella. In this environment, we all have a role to play, and we all play it well. We’re a team, a brotherhood, and the last thing I want is for these guys to think I’m soft.
“That’s my man,” Beck says, and gives me a fist pump. I stare at the door, look through the small glass panel, but all I can see is Coach’s back. Shit, man. I really hope he isn’t firing Ella. She seemed like she needed this job, but it was more than that. There was something about her as she looked at the camera, like it was her lifeline or something. Then again, I’m a jock, all brawn and no brains, so what the hell would I know right? I snort. Yeah, I should just cut and run, now that I know what she really thinks about guys like us. Here she thought I was judging her when she called me out, asking if I was labeling her a nerd. I wasn’t. But she sure as hell was packing us all into one nice and tidy package, wasn’t she?
The guys simmer down when Coach walks back into the room, and I get a glimpse of Ella adjusting her backpack over her shoulder before she darts down the hall.
Forget about her, dude. You do not need the drama.
Deciding to do just that, I turn my attention to the front of the class again, and Coach, looking a little flustered, says, “Let’s just call this a day, okay. Go, get out of here,” he says and the guys all jump up, ready for our aftergame party. He points to me as I slowly stand. “Landon, I’ll need a word with you.”
My stomach tightens. I’m not sure why he wants me to stay behind, but can’t help think it has something to do with my English, or Ella. Either way, my lungs are tight, like I’d just been sacked by a linebacker.
“Want me to wait?” Brady says.
“No, go. I’ll catch up with you guys later. Save a keg for me.”
Brady grins. “Later.”
I stop at Coach’s desk, and before he can get a word out, I say. “Don’t worry, Coach. I have no plans to get involved with Ella, or even talking to her again. She’s trouble and who needs that kind of bullshit, right?”
Intense eyes—eyes that never lose sight of the win—meet mine and hold. “You do.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
3
Ella
I pace around the living room of our small apartment, the knot in my stomach tightening until I’m doubling over in pain. With my mind spinning a million miles an hour and shaky hands folded over my abdomen, I let loose a groan so loud and painful I’m certain my parents can hear it all the way to our orchard in San Francisco Bay. I expect the phone to ring any second now, my mom checking to see if I’m okay.
“I can’t ever face any of them again,” I tell Peyton. “Ohmigod, I’ve spent the better part of my life working at staying under the radar, and now, well now I’ve gotten noticed, all right. In the worst possible way.”
“Oh, come on,” Peyton says as she stretches her long legs out on the sofa. “It’s not that bad.”
I jerk upright, my mouth open as I stare at her like she might have just grown a second head. “Not that bad? Not that bad! How can you say that, Peyton? They heard our entire conversation, and…Ohmigod,” I say again and tug a fistful of hair as I resume my pacing. “I might as well just pack up and leave campus right now.”
“Come on. What did they really hear, Ella?” She gives a casual roll of her shoulder, and I want to grip her and give her a good hard shake.
I throw my hands out. “Oh, just that I think they’re all brawn and no brain, and…and…oh God, they heard us talking about Landon’s cock.” Ohmigod, I’m mentioning his cock again when I swore I wouldn’t. My head drops, and a tortured animal sound rises in my throat as I put my hands over my face.
“You mean his torpedo?” I glare at her through the cracks in my fingers and she jumps to her feet, and takes my hands from my face. “Right, right. This is not funny, and it’s all sort of my fault since I accidently hit the record button.”
“Sort of your fault. It’s entirely your fault,” I say. Okay, it’s my fault, too. What was recorded on the camcorder was my responsibility since I was in charge of the damn thing, and I engaged in conversation about the players when I know better than to talk about someone behind their back.