Page 17 of Her Wicked Knights
I scramble to my feet, trading a glance with Jake as we take back possession of the ball. We've got thirty yards on Triple Falls. If Jake passes to Rev and I can block for him, we can run it all the way in. The field is drastically open once you get past the cluster of fuckers on me. They're all keeping their eye on me, waiting to take me down. I might not even have to block, since they all seem to be expecting Jake to snap the ball to me.
He doesn't. But he doesn't snap it to Rev either. He doesn't do anything, freezing. I see him look left and right, trying to find someone who's open. Serenity's spreading out, though, seeing his panic to get rid of the ball. Mark and Rev are the only two who are open, but Jake doesn't throw it to either of them. Instead, he lets himself get tackled, and the ball slips from his useless hands.
I push out from the sea of players trying to block me and attempt to scoop the ball before it hits the ground, but I'm not fast enough, sliding onto the ground as the whistle blows. "Dead ball!" The referee yells.
"Fuck!" I growl, my irritation surging. We haven't picked up any leverage, and the clock is running between these garbage plays.
We take formation again, and I can see Jake assessing the play, trying to decide who to throw to before the whistle blows.
He runs the ball, bringing it against his chest as he dives between two of Triple Falls' defense, spinning a little. I run, taking off to cover his dumbass. Nobody expected him to run it, which would be a good thing, except not even his own team was prepared for this move.
I see the player coming up ahead of him, and we have no one to take him down. Jake has to get rid of the ball or he's going to get taken down again.
"Rev's open!" I yell, closing the distance between us so he can hear. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the flash of blue and white as someone rushes at Jake.
I push myself harder, faster, closing the distance until I'm on his ass. The player turns at the last moment, colliding with me before I can push him off. We crash into one another, and we take Jake down with us, fumbling the ball.
The ref blows on his whistle, pausing the game. Jake slams his fist against the ground, clearly pissed at having lost possession. He jumps up easily, though, ready to fight whoever took him to his knees. When he sees me dragging myself to my feet, his outrage grows.
"Twenty-three just sacked his own quarterback!" The commentator laughs. "You don't see that every day."
"The fuck, Colt?" Jake snaps, puffing his chest up as if he'd actually throw hands. As if he'd stand a fucking chance.
I laugh, licking the trickle of blood off my busted lip and bending down to retrieve my helmet. I haven't even got a chance to get it back on my head before Coach screams across the field, pulling me out of the game.
It's a bad decision, and one that costs us the game. Not even two minutes after he pulls me from the play, Triple Falls returns the ball, running straight into the end zone with ease. We may as well have laid down and let them run over us with their cleats, because nobody even makes an attempt to stop them. With less than two minutes to go, it wouldn't make a difference. Jake glares at me as he returns to the sidelines, taking his helmet off and tossing it at the bottom of the bleachers, where it comes to a stop on the cement. I didn't sack him on purpose, but I kind of wish I had. I want to wipe that pissy fucking look off his face.
"The fuck, Hayes?"
"The fuck, North?" I snap back, rising to the challenge. "You forget what the quarterback's job is or something? You're supposed to help your team get the ball, not hold it like a pussy."
"Knock it off, Gentlemen." Coach cuts in before Jake can think of anything to hit back with, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling up at where the mayor is standing behind the retaining wall, not paying the least bit of attention. He's too busy talking to... my fucking mother.
"Look at that," Jake muses, leaning over to clap me on the shoulder. "We could be brothers, the way we always wanted to be when we were kids."
I shove away from them, trying to pretend I didn't see my mother here. Neither she nor the mayor have ever shown up to a game to support us. It reeks of an ulterior motive.
"That was a close one." Rev says, joining us with the faint lift of his lips betraying a smirk. I'm not sure what's so funny about losing the game; right now, he's the only one whodoesn'tlook pissed.
"You know we lost, right?" I snap, pushing past him to get to the locker room. If I grab my stuff and go, I can get out of here before coach launches into his 'I expected better out of you boys' speech.
"Yeah," he shrugs, catching up to me easily. "But we almost had them."
"Almost isn't good enough."
"Jesus, Colt." He chuckles, unbothered despite the exasperated word choice. "You're so... serious."
"I don't like to lose."
Rev knows as much. It's why, while Tripp was always content to coddle Marley, I always competed against her— just the same as I did with everyone else. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean I'm going to let her win... at anything.
I'm too busy glaring at Rev as he laughs again to notice Mark until he's upon me, driving me against the lockers, where he pins me with his palms on my chest. "I don't like losing either. So how about you explain why you lost the game for us?"
Now, I get to laugh, too. "I didn't lose the game for us."
His lip curls upward, and I think he's about to punch me in the face. And I welcome the contact, the pain, the excuse to beat his fucking ass and take out some of this frustration on someone. "Your head wasn't in the fucking game, so where was it?"
I don't even think before I speak. I just open my mouth, and words fall out. "Buried in your mom's pussy."
