Though anger coursed through my veins, I grinned down at where he’d shoved me. “I’ve been working out.”
Flip didn’t like that either. He lowered his shoulder and charged at me.
“This’ll be fun,” I said, braced for the impact.
As soon as he hit me, I flailed back. So much for bracing for impact. He landed on top of me and everyone stepped back, letting us go at it. He punched at my padded chest but I easily shoved his ass off me and jumped to my feet. “Maybe I’ll start protecting you once I respect you,” I said as he got to his feet. “And right now pretty boy, you ain’t earned it.”
Flip glared at me.
“Stop acting like your shit don’t stink and start acting like a leader. A true leader. Caden Brooks never would’ve pulled the shit you’re pulling.” I walked to the sideline, grabbed a bottle of water from the table, and squirted a stream down my throat.
The fucking nerve of that chump.
“Well done,” a voice congratulated me from nearby.
I glanced to my side.
Coach wasn’t looking at me as he grabbed his tablet from the bench and walked out onto the field.
Huh. So, that’s what he meant about getting Flip adjusted to how things were done around here.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grady
Though you couldn’t see the speakers with all the people crowding my living room, the bass shook the mother-effing house. Football parties were the biggest and best parties on and off campus. And, since the entire student body had returned to campus, everyone wanted in. But I wasn’t in charge of the door tonight. This Saturday night was about letting off steam before our first game. Once the season officially began, my drinking needed to be kept to a minimum.
It was past ten when I sought another pitcher of beer to guzzle. It wasn’t normally on my new diet, but tonight was no-holds-barred. And I was fucking indulging.
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed an empty pitcher from the top of the fridge. I pushed myself to the front of the keg line because, let’s be real, who was gonna stop me in my own house? I filled the pitcher and made my way through the first floor checking out the scene, including the fresh meat. I poured the beer down my throat as I walked, some of it missing my mouth and dribbling down the front of my white T-shirt. Fuck it. I pulled it over my head and draped it over my shoulder.
Some of the girls lining the hallway took me in. I wasn’t used to the attention. Rewind. I always received attention, but it was normally because of my big mouth. This time girls were checking out my bare chest and the six-pack abs I now sported. “Yes, ladies. They’re real. And I’m definitely not opposed to you touching them.”
Some of the younger girls giggled. It must’ve been their first college party. Some of the familiar faces, the ones who ordinarily would’ve rolled their eyes at me, were appreciating my reformed body. I swaggered my way toward the living room so they could really admire me. The room grew quiet as I entered. Were more people interested in my abs than I realized? I spun around. But no one paid me any attention. All eyes were on the front door. Fuck. Had the cops been called to break up the party?
As if in a bad dream, Flip-fucking-Caruso stepped through my front door. Some people shouted his name, and he did that pointing shit again. I took one step forward, ready to bounce his ass from the property. We may have been teammates, but it didn’t make us friends.
“Be cool,” Abbott said, grabbing my arm from behind and stopping me from moving forward. “He’s your teammate.”
“Right,” I balked. “A great flippin’ teammate.”
“Grady,” Abbott warned. “There’re a lot of people here tonight. They should only see you guys getting along.”
“Fuck everyone,” my drunk ass spewed, loud enough for everyone around to turn and look at me.
“Dude. Be smart,” Abbott persisted. “And put a shirt on.”
I stood there stewing, watching the faces of all the girls in the room—even the guys in the room—eyeing our new quarterback with awe. What the hell was it about this guy? Why were they so impressed?
And then it happened.
The floor nearly dropped out from beneath me.
I blinked hard, trying to clear the liquor-induced haze from my eyes.
Was I dreaming?
Was I drunker than I thought?