Page 97 of End Game
“Never.”
Blowing out a breath, I take my assignment from the Tigers coach and line up on the outside. Finn lines up on the far side of the field. I’m too irritated with him to listen to the play Callum calls.
The play starts, the defense rushing. I break around the side only to turn around and have the ball smashing against the side of my helmet about a good four steps too early.
The ball falls to the grass, the play stopped, as I look up at the sound of my name.
“Gotta keep your head up, Best, if you want to catch it,” Callum taunts, glaring at me through his facemask.
“Get the ball where it’s supposed to be and I will.”
We line up again. The play starts, and this time I don’t even get a step off the line before the ball pelts me in the side.
This is something I could normally laugh off because he obviously looks like the idiot. But it’s Callum. He’s calling me out, and I’m not about to back down.
Unlatching my chin strap, I yank off my helmet. My cleats dig into the field as I march my way through the linemen and to Callum.
His helmet is off by the time I reach him, his pupils narrow.
“What the fuck?” I shout, the vein in my temple pulsing. “You got a problem, Worthington?”
“Just a receiver that can’t catch a ball.”
I grin, one I know he’ll read into. “Oh, I can catch. I think you can’t keep it within reach.”
We’re nose-to-nose, sweat dripping down our faces. Neither of us will look away. I barely register Finn’s hand on my chest guiding me backwards. I swat it down.
“You got something you wanna say?” I ask the quarterback. “Say it, motherfucker.”
“Easy, Best,” the Tigers’ coach says, but I ignore him.
“How do my seconds taste?” Callum grins. “God, she’s good, isn’t she?—”
My hand connects to his face, right against the cheekbone. He drops his helmet with a thud. Recoiling, he rears back, but my fist smashes him again, this time in the mouth.
Every cell in my body wants to rip him apart. I lunge forward, seeing red, but feel hands on me, pushing me back. Callum gets farther away as a body physically comes between us.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” I yell over top of the Tigers’ coach separating us. “You hear me, cocksucker? I’ll kill you.”
Callum laughs, his eyes slits in his face. “Go home and fuck that little whore. Tell her I said ‘hi.’”
In slow motion, Finn’s hand comes over top of the coach and rocks Callum. Callum trips over his own feet, crashing into the grass.
All hell breaks loose and I try to break free and get to him again, but am pulled backwards. Our team lines up in front of me and Finn so we can’t even see Callum anymore.
We’re sucking in air, adrenaline still high and strong. I angle to see Worthington, but it’s no use.
“What the fuck are you two thinking?” Coach is in our face out of nowhere, ready to blow a gasket. “What could have possibly happened in two fucking plays to cause that? Huh?”
“He deserved it, Coach,” I say, still seething. “But if you put me back out there, I’ll kill him. Just letting you know.”
“You’re out of here today. You too, Miller.” He turns his attention, and disappointment, to Finn. “I almost expect this out of Best, but you? Pick your friends more carefully.”
“Best is a fuck-up, sir, but he was right this time.” Finn takes off his helmet, his hands pulling at the face guard.
“Gee, thanks,” I say, shaking my head. “Can you cut me some fucking slack?”
“You impregnated my sister,” Finn growls. “You want to do this here, Branch?”
