“Uh, yes ma’am.” Taylor seemed a bit flustered before he regained control of himself. Weird. “All the team are helping out today at the dorms as we welcome this year’s freshmen to Briar U.”
“That’s wonderful. So thoughtful…” Aunt Clara’s voice faded away as my eyes caught on bright rainbow hair that bobbed along the sidewalk. It belonged to a small girl, with her arm wrapped around the waist of another taller girl with long black hair that went down to her waist. I smiled, and even though it was wrong of me to assume, I hoped this meant the school was LGBTQ+ positive. “Thank you so much, Taylor. I’m sure we’ll find it without any issue. It was the third floor, right?”
“Yup. Room three-oh-one. Any issues, you know where I am.”
A throat cleared, and I snapped my gaze in the direction of the sound to see Aunt Clara smiling so wide it illuminated. “You ready, kid?” I nodded mutely, unable to connect my brain and mouth and followed her through the growing throngs of people. “I think you’re really gonna like it, Jamie. It’s got a nice feel to the place.”
“Yeah,” I croaked. I cleared my throat as we slipped into the cool building and made our way to the elevator and piled in along with two other kids and their parents. Everyone gave each other uncertain smiles as the numbers ticked on the display panel. The kids wore a similar expression as me, one of nervous anticipation, while the parents beamed like Aunt Clara. Only time would tell if these kids ever spoke to me, but I didn’t hold out much hope. I struggled to make friends, let alone talk to someone new in such an intense setting. Thankfully, the elevator stopped on my floor—which was also theirs—before any inane small talk was required. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck as I trailed after Aunt Clara like a lost puppy as she counted down the numbers till she came to my room. My new home.
The door was ajar. I pushed it open with my toe to see one bare bed, the walls and desk surrounding it equally as stark on the right-hand side, whereas the bed on the left was covered in a riot of color. It felt like I’d need to sleep in my sunglasses. “I’ll pop these on your bed, JJ, and go and get the last couple of boxes while you settle in and start to unpack, yeah?” Before I answered, Aunt Clara swept from the room, and I was left standing there like some kind of idiot, unable to move, clutching my box like it was a liferaft in a storm.
CHAPTER
THREE
DILLON
Summer training camp finished two weeks ago and coach shipped us all back to Briar U and immediately started our regular season training. Even though there was a hint of the seasons changing, with cooler mornings and nights drawing in, it didn’t touch the scorching midday temperatures. Coach Grundy was a former NFL linebacker, and he worked us hard. He pummeled us into the ground, and if we set one foot out of line, he’d have us running suicides till we puked and then drag our asses back into the melee of practice without a second thought.
He was hard, but we respected the shit out of him, because we knew he could make NFL stars. He had connections, and for those of us with the drive and determination to push ourselves, he’d make sure we secured a foothold in the future we wanted. But right now, I wanted to smash my fist into his face. He was being an asshole. His words were spat with vitriol, hate, and ire, and cracked like a metal-tipped whip on our backs.
Sweat poured down my spine like a river and dripped into my eyes as I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I grabbed a cold drink out of the cooler and ran it over my face before taking a sip. The cool liquid flowed down my throat as I swallowed, but it felt as effective as a broken sprinkler in a raging inferno.
“Who pissed in his Cheerios this morning? I feel like I’ve been ripped a new asshole,” Buchanan, our center, groused as he jogged up next to me to grab a drink while coach was focusing on our defensive line. They’d been our weak link last season—the first one I spent on the varsity team as a breakthrough sophomore talent—and because of their repeated failures, we lost our chance to go to state. That failure had coach riding the team harder than ever before, and I had to step up to the plate this year as the first junior captain of the Briar U Ravens.
“I heard he caught his wife with one of the history professors.” Stevens chuckled as he grabbed a water from the cooler. “You know, doing the horizontal tango.” He held the bottle before him and pretended to fuck it and slapped his ass.
“Such a prick.” Buchanan snickered, watching Stevens being, well, Stevens. He’s an immature idiot on his best days, but his spirit and ridiculous antics buoyed the team when energy and belief was low.
I snorted. “You’re such a dick. Don’t let him hear you talking about it, or you’ll be cleaning the locker room for the first half of the season at least.” Stevens shot me his favorite finger and continued to ride his bottle.
“That’s if it’s even true,” Vieck, the best running back in the state, said and slapped Stevens around the head. “You can’t always trust what the cheerleaders say. Stevens, you know this.”
He snorted and we all turned and stared at him. “What?! I can’t help it that they get loose-lipped when I fuck ‘em, can I? If there’s anything you need to know, I can find out… my dick’s magic!”
“Does he have a special wand too? To back him up when he falls short?” McCormack, our wide receiver, added. “Can’t believe you nut sacks started without me.”
“Just a quick water break, man. We’ve gotta get through the last hour of practice without fucking up. I just wanna hit the sack, my hamstrings are killing me.”
Buchanan’s head snapped to me, a fleeting look of concern crossing his face before he wiped it clear.
“Make sure you report to the physios after practice, Hargraves!” Jessop, our assistant coach’s voice, rang out behind us as he strode out of the tunnel and onto the sidelines next to us. He gave us all a withering stare and sighed like we’d innately disappointed him. Fucking story of my life; never being enough for anyone to stick around or put the effort in with. “Finish up, then get back out there! You don’t win titles by sitting on the sidelines, boys.”
“Sir,” I grunted as he stalked across the field and took his position at Coach’s side. I dropped my bottle in the empties bucket and strapped on my helmet. “Right, guys, let’s get back out there and show our defense what we’re made of.”
I rubbed my hands together, looking forward to making fucking Chad eat dirt. Prescott was our defense captain and hated my guts. He despised the fact I was a junior and team captain when all he got as a senior was the defensive cap and had to defer to me. But I fucking loved it.
“Whooop!”
“Let’s kick their ass.”
“Hell yeah, Cap!” The guys hollered as they fixed their helmets and ran out onto our side of the field. I knew coach was planning a short face-off between the lines to end this morning’s session. We’d discussed it while the rest of the team were in the locker room getting ready. He wants us to be unstoppable—our defensive line a brick wall, me to have sniper-level accuracy, and the rest of the offensive line to be a battering ram that obliterated the opposing defense. As captain, that responsibility rests on my shoulders. I might only be a junior, but I’m going to leave an indelible mark on this place.
“Hargraves, get your ass on the field,” Coach bellowed, and I snapped to it, taking my position in the offensive hustle and laid out our play. The guys were hungry. They played hard and partied harder, but at the end of the day, winning was in our blood, and that’s what we did best.
Coach blew the whistle, and like a perfectly choreographed dance, Vieck and McCormack sprinted through the defensive line, breaking through their weak spots like knives through butter. The defense broke apart and tried to rally by chasing them down, but it was like the guys knew it was over before it even began. I took a step back and worked out the force I’d need to make the distance to Stevens, who was completely open as pandemonium unleashed on the field.
Chad was closing in on me, but I didn’t let the thought of the impending sack distract me. My arm snapped forward, the ball rotating in a fast spin as it flew in a perfect arc, dropping into Stevens’ arms on the ten yard line. I lasted long enough to see him break into an unstoppable sprint before Chad’s shoulder pads crashed into my gut, forcing the air from my lungs. He wrapped his arms around me and slammed me into the ground, the smell of wet dirt and grass searing into me. The impact was jarring, and I felt like I was floating for a second before he hauled ass off me and left me on the ground.