Page 92 of Jace
It’s quiet for a bit. “Yes. I think that they won’t bother you anymore, and I’ve dropped the fee in yourDutchbank account by the way, in case you couldn’t find it.” He really thinks I’m stupid. “I do have one other thing to discuss with you, but it can wait. Can I call you in a couple of weeks? His voice raises slightly, and he sounds almost… Hopeful.
“Yeah, dad,” I concede, another small flutter of hope bloomingsomewhere. “Yeah, you can call.”
It’s because of the phone call I’m fumbling my way through practice. It’s why I don’t pay attention when we’re done and why I’m the last one to leave after a much needed shower, my brain desperately trying to process what the hell just happened during that phone call.
I’m still under the impression my dadisdying, why else would he act this way?
But he’s also the reason I find myself alone in the empty parking lot, not noticing that Bentley was waiting for me until he blocks my path.
I frown when he doesn’t move. I know he’s not a big fan of mine, especially after Tyler put his ugly mug in place. And notone, but two times. I can’t even count the times Bentley whispers profanities when we get changed, or calls me slurs whenever I don’t make the perfect pass, throwing the F word around every chance he gets.
It’s not like this hasn’t happened to me before. I shouldn’t be used to this, but I am. I’m also very good at ignoring it. There’s always a dude in every group that thinks his masculinity is in danger when breathing the same air as a gay man. Because sure, wanting to suck dick isverycontagious.
He’s just a moron.
So no, I’m not surprised when he gets in my face, his anger radiating off of him. I’ve been through this routine before.
“You totally threw the game away.”
Ah yes. God forbid if you don’t win apracticegame.
Trying to be the better man, I just shrug. “Sorry, man. It was just a friendly game within the team. No big deal.”
“For you maybe. You spent the entire season with that faggoty boyfriend of yours and that stupid band and was too busy to focus on our team? It’s because of you we didn’t make the playoffs.” The air crackles with tension as Bentley's fists clench at his sides.
Now I frown. It doesn’t bother me that much when he throws his toxic shit my way, but Tyler doesn’t deserve this. My jaw tightens, and I brace myself for what's coming.
“Hey now, that was on all of us, not on–”
Without warning, Bentley swings, aiming for my face. Instinct kicks in, and I manage to dodge the full force of the blow. But it's not enough. The punch connects, sending a shockwave of pain through my cheek. I taste blood, and for a moment, everything goes hazy.
“Not again,” I murmur to myself, the familiar sting of frustration and anger building within me. Before I can getmy bearings, his other fist connects to my eye, and I swear something snaps.
Because I refuse. I refuse to be a victim once more. To be a victim to the pettiness of men who are too damn insecure to embrace diversity.
A surge of determination courses through my veins, and I square my shoulders to meet Bentley's next swing head-on. I manage to block it with my forearm, and immediately throw a punch to his face, making sure I put every ounce of strength behind it that I have. Dickface.
The idiot goes down immediately, tripping over his own feet, landing on the pavement.
I should leave him. I should walk away. I should report him and let this go. But I can’t.
So for all the scared, closeted gay people out there, for all of the pain, anxiety and fear those people have every damn day of their lives, I follow him and punch his face in.
To my regret I only get a couple of hits in before I get hauled off of him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?Get off of him Mr. Janssen!”Our coach–Mr. Karev–comes running out of the back door of the soccer building, his two assistant coaches are the ones holding me.
I’m not stupid enough to ignore the man, so I still immediately, shrugging the two men off, and take a couple of steps back with my hands in the air.
“He started it,” Bentley grunts, holding on to his cheek as he sits meekly on the floor. I can’t help but smirk, itching to go at him again. Fucking idiot. If he thought I was an easy target, he’s dead wrong. I’llneverlet it get that far anymore.
“Don’t bullshit me Mr. Montgomery. I saw the whole thing, or is your brain so tiny that you are unaware of the fact thatour office is right over there?”He waves a hand to the windowsof the flat building, before focusing on me. “Are you okay, Jace?” Coach Karev grabs onto my chin and assesses my face. “Anything broken?”
I wobble my jaw, but besides the first two hits on which I think I bit my tongue, I’m otherwise fine, which I tell the coach.
“Thank God,” he murmurs. “Missy would kill me if he’d broken your face. Or punched your throat.”
I blink at him and hesnorts,for crying out loud. “Please. She’s the daughter of the dean, you’re not the only one who is afraid of her.” He slams my shoulder a bit too hard, making me stumble. “If you’re fine, then get out of here. I saw the whole thing, and me and Mr. Montgomery are going to have a lovely visit to the Dean's office.”
