Page 59 of Puck Princess

A sloppy grin returns to his face. “Don’t let Coach hear you say that. Not very captainly of you,brother.”

He’s implying exactly what it sounds like he’s implying. He knows I’m walking a balance beam, and he’s trying to throw my footing.

Lance moves into the aisle behind him, a hand on his shoulder so Spencer is caged between us. “Lay off Owen, man. Go sit down. Sleep it off.”

Everyone else is just watching. Waiting.

Spencer shrugs Lance’s hand off. “I’m just looking out for the team. If I were captain, that would be my focus.”

I should let him walk away, but a bitter laugh bursts out of me. “If you were captain, would you also have your daddy screw with people’s wake up calls so they were late to practice? Is that good for the team?”

“Wait, what?” Dax asks.

For the first time, Spencer seems coherent enough to know this is not a joke.

“Pockets full of money and gold sticker from your daddy aren't going to get you as far as you think they will,” I go on. “You don’t have what it takes to be a team player and time will prove me right.”

He doesn’t seem to have the conversational footing to respond so I keep going.

“And whatever happened with you and Callie in the past, I don’t give a fuck. She’s moved on and moved up. I’m lucky to have her.”

Spencer snorts. “Being with Callie Coleman has nothing to do with luck. If that was the case, a lot of dudes gotlucky.”

I did my best. Everyone on this plane can vouch for that fact that, for a few minutes, at least, I kept a tight fucking lid on the boiling rage I have inside towards Spencer Santos. But he’s gone too far.

The grip on my control slips.

I see red.

Just before I can grab him by the throat and let his final words be a warning to every living soul to never speak about Callie Coleman that way, Lance grabs the lucky fucker and yanks him back.

“Leave it alone, O,” Lance warns me. “He’s not worth it.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about. Killing him in front of a plane full of witnesses and going to prison for life would be very,verymuch worth it.

I lunge forward just as Lance shoves Spencer into an empty row of seats. He's drunk enough to just lie there. Then Lance steps forward, blocking me from pounding Spencer into a pile of meat.

“Leave italone,” he says right in my face.

I know Lance is on my side. I know he doesn’t want me to get in any more trouble. One more slip—especially if that slip was my fist in Lance’s face—would probably get me kicked from the team entirely. But I’m done.

“Step aside,” I growl.

“Not gonna happen.”

The guys lean in closer, ready to peel us off each other if they have to.

“Craven, I swear to fucking God?—”

“What is going on back here!?” Coach Coleman’s voice booms down the aisle. He was smart enough to get first class, too. “Don’t tell me you’re starting another fight, Sharpe.”

Lance and I stare each other down. Everyone is quiet. Waiting.

Then Lance turns to Coach. “Owen was cutting the rookies off.”

“No sloppy drunks on this flight,” Dax chimes in, slurring the last few words.

Coach looks around, clearly having his doubts. When he sees Santos in the row behind Lance, his legs draped over the armrest, he shakes his head. “You girls are exhausting.”

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