Page 424 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

I already know I’m getting a tongue lashing, and Coach doesn’t disappoint. Although he veils the insults he throws myway, I catch them all.He’s pissed off about that fumble, and he’ll raise hell if I don’t do better. But I must have put the fear of God in Harper because she doesn’t yell out again. She sits quiet as a mouse on the bleachers, not even daring to shake her pom-poms until halftime.

The Darlings pour out onto the field as we head into the locker room, and by then I couldn’t give a fuck what Harper does with her pretty self.We’re leading—that’s all that counts.

I’m in the process of stalking past the rest of the team, Phil Collins blasting in my ears when Coach directs a deafening whistle my way.

“Dearth, we need to talk.”

I veer from the stalls and head over to him instead. Jesus, it wasonefucking fumble. That’s not going to affect the game. Why the hell?—

Coach slaps his hand on my shoulder pad, a grim look on his face as we square off in a quiet area of the locker room while the rest of the team get on with their shit.

“Coach, there’s nothing?—”

He cuts me off with a grunt. “Shut it, Dearth.” He has his hands on his hips, eyes narrowed, but after staring me down for a beat, he says, “You did it, son.”

What the fuck is he talking about? Suddenly my mind is scrambling, and the first thing it comes up with is the fire in Harper’s locker.

I huff out a laugh. “Me? You got it wrong, Coach, that was Sean?—”

“The scholarship, Jude. You bagged it.”

My body freezes up. Everything—even Phil Collins—converges into a high-pitched whine that barely registers.

I did it.

Ifuckingdid it.

Euphoria washes through me. I’m covered in goosebumps, the hair on the back of my arms saluting.

“Why do you look so surprised? We’ve been at this for years, Jude.” Perez cracks a smile, but even that’s grim. He’s just one of those guys. “You keep your nose clean, and they’ll be welcoming you to CA with open arms.”

He claps my shoulder again before striding away. I turn, feeling strangely disembodied as I head for my stall. I close the door behind me—quietly this time—and lean my back against it.Closing my eyes, I let the feeling of victory, that motherfucking sweet triumph rush over me.My jaw clenches, and I jolt forward to press my palms against the stall walls. A shudder tears through me, my jaw bunching even tighter as raw, savage power rushes through me.

Fuck, I feel good. I shove a hand in my duffle bag and yank out Harper’s panties. My dick is out, but I’m stroking it absently, my mind still reeling from Coach’s announcement.

Cinderhart Academy.

I fucking made it.

I speed up, but my climax feels light-years away. Not that jerking off with Harper’s underwear wrapped around my fist isn’t doing it for me...I feel fucking phenomenal. But I’m too amped up about the scholarship.

Fuck it.

I shove my dick in my pants and wince as I try to get my cup back on. Eventually I’m dressed, and I get out of the stall just as Coach Perez calls the final huddle before halftime ends. I barely listen—it’s the same shit every time. Get your head in the game and keep it there. We’re a team, act like it. Bla-fucking-bla. By the time he wraps up, I’m shifting my weight from foot to foot, my jaw so tight my teeth are squeaking against each other.

We trot out onto the field amid the usual roar of applause and get into position. The other team looks particularly ill at ease as the whistle blows.

When I blink again, we're down by six. When the fuck did that happen?

Energy sizzles through my body. I urgently need to direct it somewhere before my atoms split and raze the whole of Cinderhart. I'm supposed to hand off to Sean, but there's a clear path to the goal line.

I know I can make it. I'm fucking untouchable.

Coach yells at me to stop, but by then I'm already being tackled by 11. The sound of our helmets clanging together is so fucking loud I feel it in my bones. It disorientates me, but I push through. I’m fighting off two of them now, but the end zone is so close I can taste it. I drag them with me, my teeth gritted, the roar of the crowd shoving me along like physical hands on my back.

The timer is running out. I’m aware of the clock as much as the gusts of wind against my face, the stench of BO wafting from the guys trying to pull me down, the unified cheer from the Darlings—RA RA RA—the way my cleats sink into the grass andgrip,the way Harper’s hair smelled, how wet she was by the bleachers, wet formeand I didn’t do anything about it, I was a fucking pussy, could have had that sweet cunt right then and there, but it was wrong, it’sstillwrong, and I’m going to make her pay for that, for fucking tempting me, seducing me, making my dick hard and then?—

I yell as I haul three linebackers over the end zone with me, as the ball breaks the plane, as I score the touchdown we need to win the game.

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