Page 39 of Rookie Mistake

We start talking about who we’re drafting for the team’s fantasy football league this year when someone checks me from behind so hard that I nearly fall over, only catching myself last minute on the wall in front of me before I end up on the floor.

Alcohol splashes over the rim of my cup, all over the front of my T-shirt and jeans, completely soaking my clothes.

What the fuck?

Turning, I see Oliver fucking Andrews standing behind me, wearing a sinister smirk. His green eyes, I’m now realizing since we’re standing so close, resemble the same bright emerald as his sister’s.

“What the fuck, Andrews?” I spit as I toss my empty cup onto a nearby table. There’s nothing left now that I’m fucking wearing it.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” He steps closer until the tips of his shoes meet mine and shoves me with both hands. My back slams against the wall with a loud thud that sounds around the room, even over the sound of music pouring from the speakers.

Thismotherfucker.

I’m going from never getting in fights to almost getting into two tonight. 2 and 0.

“I told you to stay away from Zara. I fucking warned you what would happen if you continued, and you didn’t give a shit. You did it anyway. I told you she was off-fucking-limits, but you just couldn’t help yourself.”

I just shake my fucking head because I’m in disbelief that this shit is evening happening right now. He must have seen us going upstairs together earlier, even though we thought we were being so careful… But fine, if this is what he wants to do, then let’s fucking go.

“And I’m pretty sure I recall telling you to mind your own fucking business. You don’t make decisions for her, Oliver.” I shove him back, not hard enough to knock him on his ass, but hard enough that he stumbles back a few steps. “You sure you wanna do this right now? Right here?”

A dark shadow of determination passes over his face, and he nods, closing the distance between us. “What I want is to fuck you up for touching my sister. I warned you, and you didn’t give a shit. I told you this wasn’t a game, Guidry. She is my fucking sister, and she is not some toy you can use and throw away when you’re done.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I retort darkly. “Just because you have an opinion about who you think I am doesn’t mean I treat Zara with anything less than what she deserves. It’s disrespectful as fuck that you’re the one here causing a scene instead of talking to me man to man about it.”

“Nothing to talk about. You’re not fucking with my sister, end of discussion.”

This time, I chuckle. The sound is completely humorless and more so to keep me from breaking his nose.

I’m fucking done with this shit, and I’m done with him.

This is the second time we’ve had this conversation, and nothing has changed. Except maybe my feelings about Zara, and it still has fuck all to do with him.

The fact that he keeps letting the bullshit rivalry as a reason to start shit with me is pissing me the fuck off. Sure, I don’t like him and probably never will, but this shit has gone too far. How are we supposed to perform as a team if we can’t even stand to be in the same room, if we’re fighting over shit at frat parties?

We’ll be fucked this season, even if it were both up for the same spot. One of us will be a relief pitcher for the other, and the entire team doesn’t jive if guys are at each other’s throats.

Fuck this.

“Let’s end this shit, right here,” I tell him, lifting my chin. “You wanna beat the shit out of me for wanting to be with Zara? Fine. Do it, then get the fuck over it and move on because I’m not going to stop. I know you have a low opinion of me and think I’m just out to fuck her, but that’s not true. I like her, Oliver, and I want to do shit the right way. So get your anger out, let’s throw a few punches, and move. The. Fuck. On.”

I punctuate every syllable, watching his expression change from anger to red-hot fury.

I continue, letting the attention we’ve garnered fade out. “How do you think this is going to end? Both of us benched for the first game? A suspension from the team for who knows how long? Maybe Coach deciding that neither of us are worth the trouble and giving the starting spot to Rio instead. Maybe you don’t care, but this shit has to end. Tonight. So let’s do whatever the fuck we can to make sure that happens. Hit me. Do your fucking worst.”

I’m taunting him.

Goading him into taking the first punch.

Hopefully, it makes him feel better and resolves whatever is happening in his head because neither of us are walking out of here without ending this shit.

For a beat, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t even fucking breathe by the looks of it, his eyes boring into the hardwood at my feet, and then he drags his gaze to meet mine. “You could’ve picked anyone in the goddamn world, and you picked my sister. You’re a selfish fuck. You’re willing to hurt Zara just to get to me. “

Fuck this.

I stride toward him, my steps short as I close the distance and shove him hard. “Fuck you. She’s not a goddamn game to me, and I’m fucking sick of hearing you talk about her like she’s not capable of making her own decisions. Leave her out of this. Yousay this bullshit is because of me and her, but let’s be real for one second. It’s not. This is about you feeling threatened that I’ll take the starting spot.”

I’ve been so caught up in the fact that I’m about to potentially fight my teammate and the stupid shit that’s coming out of his mouth that I didn’t catalog how much of a crowd has gathered around us. Aside from the music still playing, most of the party has gone silent, watching us circling each other.

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