Page 46 of Antidote

I love the adrenaline rush of a fight during a game—I just never thought it would be against my own teammate.

“Hunter!” Oliver yells, and I don’t know how I hear him over the crazy noise of the crowd, but I do. “Stop!”

The referee separates Dylan and me, but not before I use both my fists to pummel Dylan’s face. I roar, trying to yank myself free from the ref’s grasp and get back to Dylan. He just grins through the blood, spitting it onto the ice. My knuckles are raw and bloody, and I slightly wince at the pain on my face. He didn’t break anything, but I know there’s blood dripping down.

“You’re done.” The ref yells, “Out of the game for misconduct.”

He calls it, and I skate back to the tunnel, leaving all my shit behind on the ice. They can take care of it for all I care; I know I’m probably done. My coach is gonna?—

“Hartman!” —fucking kill me. “You’re fucking suspended!” My coach yells, coming after me. “Get the fuck in the locker room and stay there until I come back.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t fucking test me.” He growls. “You fucked up big time. Now, I don’t know what problem you have with Matthews, but you don’t bring it on the ice—and definitely not during a goddamn game.”

“He started it,” I mutter. “So I ended it.”

“Yeah—that’s a great team mentality, son.” And then he walks away, leaving me to get back to the locker room.

I don’t know what I was thinking—except that I wasn’t. Oliver probably doesn’t know the reason we were fighting, but I bet he’s about to find out. He’ll probably get a kick out of it, and I know he’s going to have some dumb shit to say about it later. And I might just beat his ass too if he tries to make a big deal out of it.

I don’t have time for this shit.

During the second-period intermission, an hour later, everyone returns to the locker room. There’s a fucking commotion on the way in, but when they see me sitting on a bench in front of the lockers, everyone falls silent. It’s like they don’t know how to act around me right now, and it's as if I’m going to attack them too. They probably didn’t hear the real reason I beat Dylan’s ass, but if they know, I wonder if they see me as an overprotective brother—or for what it actually is.

Jealousy.

I’m not usually a jealous person, but when it comes to Oliver, it’s quite apparent I lose my damn mind. I’ve never cared about things like this before. When I had girlfriends in high school, they didn’t matter at all. Maybe because I already had someone who did. When senior year came around, and Crystal was clinging to me like tape, I ripped her off and broke up with her—but not before finding out she was cheating on me. I felt absolutely nothing.

The coach comes in, glaring at me, and I just know that embarrassment is about to follow that look in his eyes. “You’re suspended,” he growls right in front of everyone. Hushed whispers surround me, but when I look behind the coach, all I can focus on is Dylan’s smirk. He didn’t get reprimanded since I was the one who hit him first, even though I had a damn good reason to. “Two games.”

My stomach drops, and my fists tighten at my sides. “Two?”

“Do you want me to make it more?” He asks, and I stay silent. “I didn’t think so, Hartman. I want you to apologize, and then I want you to get out of here. You’re coming to practice tomorrow, then three hours of gym time.”

“It’s fucking Sunday tomorrow,” I mutter. “And I’m not apologizing.”

“I don’t really care.” He smiles, then turns toward the team.

I fume for a moment, trying to tune him out. He’s giving them a speech about how they have managed to keep up the score even through my mishaps and come out on top. There’s still one more period to go, which could change quickly, but he stays positive, and everyone else stays motivated.

“Lions on three!” Dylan yells, and I roll my eyes. “One, two, three!”

“Lions!” Everyone roars, and I will my face to stay impassive.

My teammates sit around on the benches near me, and I’m left alone. That is, until the coach leaves the room and Dylan comes back up to me. His face is still bloody, and bruises and swelling are beginning to make an appearance. But he doesn’t seem to mind them as he looks me up and down. Jacob and Connor are already at my side, ready to stop whatever is about to begin. I’m trying to keep calm, but the fucker is making it really hard to.

“Why are you so mad, cupcake?” Dylan grins. “Do you want him too? I’m pretty good at sharing. All you had to do was tell me.”

“He’s my brother,” I growl. “Stay away from him.”

“I will.” He nods slowly, his grin never dropping. “But only if he wants me to. And he really didn’t want me to. If I remember correctly, he was moaning for me to go deeper.”

My nostrils flare because how is it that this motherfucker made it inside of Ollie before me? “Do you want me to kill you?” I ask him through gritted teeth. “I mean, I’d be happy to, but if you want to live, then shut the fuck up.”

Dylan raises his hands in mock surrender, “Fine, fine.” He laughs, and some of the other guys join in. “I’m guessing I don’t have your blessing to ask him out then?”

“You want to go out with him?” My brows furrow in confusion. For some reason, it never occurred to me that he may want Ollie for more than a casual lay. That makes my hackles rise, and it bothers me more that he might be seeing a future with my?—

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