Page 94 of End Game

There’s a breeze blowing across the field, whipping her dark ponytail around, and the temptation is back, just like that. I’m dying to grab that silky ponytail and drag her off the field, reminding every single guy on the team that she’s mine. This one belongs to me.

Even though she doesn’t. Not really. I can’t claim her.

Ever rejected my ass, and according to one of my best friends, I deserved it.

The entire team is in a row facing the coaches, and I join them, standing on the far edge of the group, wishing I were anywhere but here. I can’t even find refuge in practice, my one last safe space on this goddamn campus. I’ve got Dollar pissed at me, Coop disappointed in me, Gav eager to give me shit, and Everleigh avoiding me like I’m a contagious disease.

It fucking sucks.

I stare at Everleigh, trying to get her to look my way, but it’s like I don’t even exist. I can feel some of my teammates watching me, most likely not-so-secretly enjoying my obvious failure, and I send everyone who’s looking in my direction a dirty look. Even Gav.

Fuck all of them. Fuck the cute girl who’s currently talking about helping us stretch by holding a yoga session for us to kick off practice. I am not in the mood for this, and I interrupt her midspeech.

“What if we don’t want to do it?”

All heads swivel in my direction, including Ever’s, whose eyes are full of disappointment.

“You don’t have a choice,” Coach answers for her, his voice firm and his focus only on me. “This is a part of practice. You know how it goes, Valente.”

I do. This is my fourth year. My last year on this team.

“I don’t want to participate.” I cross my arms, figuratively digging in my heels.

Being a complete idiot. But hey, I don’t half ass anything. I’m going all in.

“Like I said, you don’t have a choice.” Coach pauses for a moment, his steely gaze boring into mine. “Unless you want to leave practice.”

Leaving practice is worse than getting kicked out. Leaving means you don’t want to stick around for your team. Getting kicked out means you’re acting like a shithead and the coaches don’t want to deal with you anymore.

I’m definitely trying to get kicked out.

“I’ll just chill on the sidelines and watch everyone,” I drawl, my gaze scanning across my teammates, who are all wearing sour expressions of varying degrees. “Whatcha think, guys?”

“Fuck that, Valente. Stop being difficult,” Gav calls good naturedly. “I thought you liked Everleigh’s yoga classes.”

“Not anymore,” I say, my voice loud and clear.

Dollar mutters under his breath.

Coop groans.

I am digging my own grave, and I don’t give a shit.

“Valente, you’re being a distraction.” Coach glares. “You either agree to run through this yoga session—twenty minutes tops, so it’ll go by quick—or I’m kicking you out of practice.”

I slowly shake my head. “I’m not doing it.”

“Get the fuck out of here, then.”

It’s the Monday after a bye week. We need to have our heads in the game and get ready for this weekend’s match with one of our biggest rivals. I am dying to play this game. They need me to play this game.

But if I keep fucking off like this, they’ll have no choice but to boot me out of this Saturday’s game.

My gaze shifts to Everleigh, who’s watching me, her expression sad.

If I could flip them all off, even her, I would.

But I don’t. Instead, I leave, heading back to the locker room.

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