Page 100 of The Venom We Bleed

I roll my eyes. “It’s none of your bus?—”

“Do you have a cut on your lip?” Nolan’s question cuts me off and I scowl.

“Oh my God, can you back off for like two seconds?” I snap, stepping away from all three of them when they step forward in unison, like they’re about to attack me.

“Where did you go this afternoon?” Gio’s voice holds a dangerous note. “Did someone fuck with you?”

I roll my eyes. “I was at Cory’s gym,” I admit. “I got it while sparring, but like I was trying to say, it’s none of your fucking business. Lay off.”

All at once, the three of them ease up, their stances relaxing. Lex shuffles forward, his helmet in one hand as he reaches up with his other to touch the cut. I freeze, the warmth of his fingers smoothing across my cheek and lips.

“You should put some hydrogen peroxide on this,” he murmurs. “It’ll help it heal.”

I can feel Mads’ wide-eyed gaze on all four of us and the heat rushing to the surface of my skin. I tug my face away from his hands and take a healthy step back. “I’ll be fine,” I say, gesturing to the field. “You need to go get ready for the game.”

Gio gives me one of his signature grins—all seduction and swagger. “You gonna cheer for us, Prep Girl?”

“Who says I won’t cheer for the winner?” I shoot back.

His smile widens. “That’s what I said.”

Oh, his confidence issoin need of some leveling. “We’ll see,” I hedge, shaking my head.

Mads scoots closer to me, returning the strap of her camera around her neck. Nolan offers her a smile and a head nod. “Stick to this side,” he tells us. “I don’t want to have to head off any trouble while you’re here.”

My upper lip peels back away from my teeth as I scoff. “Bite me.”

Nolan’s cinnamon-colored eyes laser in on me. “Is that a challenge or an offer?”

I flip him the bird and turn to walk away, Mads hurrying to catch up as I reach the stairs that lead us back up to the bleachers.

“Wow, they really look after you,” Mads murmurs as we exit the field and make our way over to the front row where a few seats have been left open.

I snort. “No, they like to control me,” I state plainly. “And I like to give them a run for their money.” She hums in the back of her throat, but it’s not a sound of agreement. I wait until we’re both seated, my ass freezing to the icy cold metal bench of the bleachers, before I respond.

“What?” I ask her.

Mads lifts her shoulders in a delicate shrug as she pulls the lapels of her sweater closer around her. I rub my bare arms absently, waiting.

“They don’t really act like guys who hate your guts.” She turns and eyes me. “Was that one of their trucks you were driving? I thought you didn’t have a car anymore.”

“It’s Lex’s loaner from the garage Nolan works at. His SUV is … erm … being worked on.”

The focus of Mads’ gaze on the side of my face sears into me. She hums again, and I’m really starting to hate the sound. On the field, the players line up and the screaming crowd at our back finally calms enough that I don’t have to work to hear my own thoughts.

As much as I try to focus on the field in front of me, it’s hard not to lift my gaze and scan the bleachers across the way. There are several faces I recognize, old classmates and teachers. When halftime hits, I nearly swallow my tongue as Avery jogs out across the green in her tiny Silverwood Prep cheerleader uniform. My gaze shoots to the benches and sure enough, Brandon is right there, watching her like a drooling dog. My insides churn.

Yanking my gaze back, I find myself turning and scanning the bleachers around us. There are more parents here than I expected. It reminds me where mine are—or rather, where they aren’t.Here.

Halftime ends and my stomach rumbles with hunger. Mads leaves and comes back a short time later with a bucket of popcorn that she shares as we huddle together for warmth. Salt and butter coat the back of my tongue as we watch the last few moments of the game, each team fighting back and forth on the field for the final point that will cause them to either win or lose.

Gio’s ‘20’ jersey plows through the line of players wearing white jerseys and Nolan backs up, throwing the football high and wide. Everyone on our side stands up and so do we. Mads and I hold on to each other, our breaths caught. The Silverwood Public running back catches it in midair and then leaps for the end zone just as the buzzer sounds and the crowd erupts into cheers.

The Silverwood Scorpions are the winners.

“Holy shit!” Mads jumps up and down against me. “That was awesome!”

“Yeah…” I huff out a laugh, a little surprised by how easy it’d been for me to actually enjoy the game despite being on the opposite side I used to cheer for.

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