Page 70 of Choke Up

"What the fuck, Landon?"

I reach a hand to help him up, ready to tear him a new one over the basic shit we learned in Little League, but he slaps my hand away and storms off. He stumbles when he scoops down to retrieve his glove. This pisses him off even more, and he stomps his foot like a toddler and throws his hat.

I give Elliot a shrug and scoff under my breath, but it's loud enough, I guess. Tripp decides to open his mouth and say something, most of which I don't catch. All I know is that I hear the words "your little brother" and "slut" in the same sentence. It was aimed at Elliot, but clearly meant for me to hear. And he gets what he wanted out of it.

"What did you say?"

"You, of all people, would know…"

Throwing my mask on the ground, I cover the ground between us in three long steps. He tries to pull some tough guy bullshit, shoving his chest up in mine, but I'm not playing around. I rear back and throw my fist in his face. Blood splatters across my knuckles, and Tripp goes down. He's flat on his back, holding his nose and writhing like a little bitch. I stand over him, looking down at him like the piece of trash he is.

"I've been putting up with your bullshit for weeks because I actually felt bad for you. But no one disrespects my family and gets away with it."

"Your family?!" He spits out, his voice nasally and whiny as he stands up, pointing at me with one bloodied hand still gripping his nose. "That's fucking rich?—"

I move right up in his space, dropping my voice so only he can hear me. "Jealous isn’t a good look on you, Landon. Get a life."

Footsteps hurry toward us, Elliot stepping between us when Tripp tries to lunge. Ellis grabs my arm from behind me, and Tripp stares at the contact. His lips lift in a snarl, showing blood coated teeth.

"Calm down, Tripp. Let's take a breather."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Hope. You think you're so much better than everyone else, but you have no idea what's going on right under your nose."

"That's enough, Tripp!" Ellis shouts, pulling me back when I try to take another step forward.

"You take that blindfold off yet, sweetheart? Because he's going to toss you aside like a cheap whore."

I lunge forward, intent on busting his face open. It takes the entire infield and multiple members of the coaching staff to pull us apart. Tripp and I are both ejected from the game. Elliot gets a warning for yelling in Tripp's face to shut up, and Ellis ends up with a black eye in the fray after attempting to pull me off Tripp. I'm not even sure if it was any part of my body that did it, but walking out of the coach's office and seeing him with an ice pack on his face makes my stomach drop to the floor. My knees follow, and I wrap my arms around Ellis' waist.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble into his shirt.

"It wasn't your fault. You were defending my honor. It was very gallant of you," he says, his tone thick with snark.

"I've been called worse."

He laughs, and I close my eyes, breathing in the smell of his sweat, laundry detergent, and everything him. His fingers comb my hair, soothing the stress of the day. I almost forget where we are.

“How bad is it?”

“Four game suspension. And a warning that if it happens again, Coach will have my hide and my scholarship,” I answer.

“Could’ve been worse, I guess.”

The infirmary door opens, and Tripp comes out, followed by a few of the training staff. He's got cotton stuffed up both nostrils, and tape across the entire bridge of his nose. Ellis straightens, but we don’t move in time for him to not see us in the compromising position. Tripp’s jaw tics, but he says nothing as he lets the trainers lead him out of the building.

Later, after we've washed off the grime and stress of the day, Ellis and I lounge on the couch watching his favorite show. He falls asleep with his head in my lap, his soft snores too sweet to interrupt when I hear Elliot's key in the door.

Elliot stops in his tracks, staring at the way his brother is sleeping peacefully, his arm looped under my thigh like he's holding a pillow.

"Don't wake him up," I say softly. My voice is calm, but my heart is beating overtime.

Elliot finally makes eye contact with me, and I can see the pain reflected there.

"How long?"

The sigh that escapes me is both pained and relieved.

"How long have I been gay, or how long have I been in love with your brother?"

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