Page 19 of Fragile

The crowd goes wild, and I can hear the chants of our fans, their energy feeding into our performance. We huddle up, and Seb’s eyes are blazing with determination.

“Great catch, Miles,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder.

“Great throw, QB.”

We line up again, and I see the San Jose defense adjusting, trying to read our play. But Seb’s too smart for them. He changes the play at the line, calling an audible. I nod, understanding my new route. The snap comes, and I’m off again, cutting through the middle of the field. Seb’s under pressure, but he stays calm and releases the ball just before a defender gets to him. It’s a perfect throw, and our tight end, Chris, catches it in stride, sprinting down the sideline for another big gain.

By the fourth quarter, we’ve built a solid lead, but we can’t let up. The opposition is fighting back, and we need to stay sharp. I glance over to the sidelines where the cheer squad stand in their uniforms and spot Quinn immediately, her flame red hair pulled up into a ponytail and a beaming smile on her face as she waves her pom-poms at me. “Go eighty-eight!” she yells, and I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.

Just as I refocus and go to make my break, a hulking guy named Derek, blindsides me with a late hit. Pain explodes through my side, and I hit the ground hard. The referee’s whistle blows, signaling a penalty, but it’s too late to stop the surge of anger that rises within me.

I push myself up, ignoring the pain, and get in his face. “What the hell was that?” I shout, shoving him.

He smirks, unfazed. “Welcome to real football, pretty boy. Too busy staring at the ass on the side of the pitch to notice me? That’s your too bad.”

When he flicks the side of my helmet, that’s all it takes. My fists clench, and before I can think, I’m shoving him again. He stumbles back, but then surges toward me. “You’re a fucking asshole!” I shout, just as he gets one decent right hook to my ribs, exactly where he knocked into me. The pain of his hit registers, but it doesn’t stop me. The field erupts into chaos as players from both teams rush in, trying to tear us apart. I can hear the crowd roaring, the mix of cheers and boos adding to the frenzy.

Seb and Hudson are there in an instant, pulling me back. “Miles, calm down!” Seb yells, his grip firm on my shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Let it go, man,” Hudson adds, his voice urgent. “We need you in the game, not on the bench.”

Derek is led away by his teammates, grinning like he’s won. He hasn’t won a fucking thing, the prick. I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger. But as the ref passes him, I see his face contort in fury as he throws his helmet off, and I know exactly what’s coming for me next.

He reaches me in four strides. “Eighty-eight, you’re off too. I don’t care who started it,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Seb and Hudson loosen their grips on me. “Miles, go cool off,” Seb mutters, but I barely hear him. The anger and adrenaline still course through my veins and cloud my thoughts.

As I make my way to the sideline, Coach approaches, his expression a storm of rage and frustration too. Hooray, it seems everyone is pissed tonight. “Miles, that was reckless. We needed you out there, not getting into fights!” he barks, his voice a harsh whisper meant only for me.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “I know, Coach, I’m sorry,” I manage to say, but it sounds hollow. The reality of my actions sinks in, and I realize how much I’ve let my team down.

I slump onto the bench, my head in my hands, the pain in my side a dull throb compared to the ache of how much I’ve fucked up tonight.

And worse? My dad is here somewhere, watching the whole thing.

Fuck.

Chapter eight

Quinn

I have one goalin mind as I jog toward the locker room entrance. I need to check on Miles. After he was benched, he wouldn’t look at me again; he focused on the game and shut out everything else. And even though the team won, he stalked off to the locker room just before everyone left the field. I took the fastest shower of my life and changed before heading down here. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I need to see him.

Players pass me by in a blur of suits, but I’m not paying attention to their faces.

My brother spots me and steps in front of the locker room door, blocking my way. “Quinn, he’s not in the mood for a pep talk,” Seb says.

“What makes you think I’m going to do that? I want to check he’s okay.” Glaring up at him, I will him to move but he doesn’t.

“Trust us, you’ll want to leave him alone tonight,” Hudson adds, making me bite my cheek to stop from snapping, but it’s no use.

My jaw clenches. “No, I want to see him.”

I have to.

Seb sighs and hangs his head low. “His dad is in there right now. Coach just left. It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care. He needs his friends.”

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