Page 32 of Beautifully Conflicted

Although it’s a slightly longer route, I go around campus rather than through so there’s less chance of running into anyone, and when the house comes into view, I jog the last twenty yards or so for good measure. Safely inside, I collapse against the door and take a second to breathe, hoping to calm the heartbeat that’s still way too erratic for my liking.

Though, my relief is short-lived.

“What are you doing here?” Aiden asks from the couch.

“I live here.”Fuck, I sound just as ornery as Damien.

Aiden purses his lips as he studies me. “I mean what are you doing herenow? Don’t you have practice?”

“Normally I would, but since Damien got me kicked out of it, so I’m home early.”

“You got kicked out of practice?” I can see the whites of Aiden’s eyes despite being nearly twelve feet away, they’re that wide. “You?Why?”

“Got into it with Damien.” I shrug off my coat and hang it on the rack, kicking off my shoes so I can join Aiden on the couch.

“What for?”

“He grabbed my ass. I didn’t like it.”

“Isn’t that a normal football thing?”

“Smacking, yeah. Grabbing, not so much.” Truthfully, I’m not sure whether it was a pat, a smack or a grab at this point, I just felt like the whole team was watching him do it play after play, and I couldn’t stomach what they were undoubtedly thinking each time his hand made contact.

“I can see why that’d bug you, but I don’t get it. Damien seems so nice in class, the kind of person who would be a good teammate. He even said he was gonna try not to push your buttons for the good of the team.”

“And you believed that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

I shake my head with a huff. “Typical.”

Aiden knows me well enough to sense there’s more to it, so he doesn’t let me get away with that curt response. “I get that you two have this rivalry thing, but it seems like more than that. Why do you hate him so much? And don’t say smack talk, that’s just part of being an athlete.”

“It’s not just the talk. It’s the tone. The way he looks at me. The way he makes nice with all my friends and makes snide comments to me. I keep telling you guys you don’t know him like I do, but you don’t listen.”

While all of that is true, I’m omitting the most important factor at play, and to ensure Aiden doesn’t catch on, I stomp into the kitchen for a beer. I don’t usually have them mid-week but fuck it. I figure between getting kicked out of practice and not ripping Damien’s throat out when he grabbed my dick, I’ve earned it.

Too bad Aiden follows me into the kitchen, so I don’t even get a single sip in peace.

“Help me see the real Damien, then. Tell me what you see that I don’t.”

I pop the top of the can and take several long swallows before answering, savoring the hoppiness of the amber liquid before starting a conversation I know will spoil it.

“Aside from the fact he tried to steal my high school girlfriend?” Yeah, he told me his fucked up logic behind that one, but it’s still a black mark in my book so I’m including it.

Aiden’s brow wrinkles. “He did that?”

“That’s only the start. He’s like the annoying ring in your ears after a hard tackle. Always there, hovering just beneath the surface, ready to drop an insult, or a challenge, or some random thought that makes literally no sense. It’s impossible to have a conversation with him. Not only because he spews bullshit but because he does it all innocently, like he isn’t trying to bait me, then he acts surprised that I’m pissed off. What kind of person pisses you off and then wonders why you’re mad in the first place?”

Aiden reaches for my beer and helps himself to a few sips, a sure sign that he’s about to hit me with something I’m not gonna like.

“If you want my honest opinion, I think Damien appears to be acting innocent because he is, at least in his mind. I think he might be on the spectrum.”

Of all the bombshells Aiden could’ve dropped, that’s the last one I’m expecting.

“What? No way. People on the spectrum can’t play football.”

“Why not?”

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