Page 6 of Still Bruised
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Jude spun, face-to-face with Foster Price.
He stood there silent a few seconds, trying to ignore the racing of his heart and what caused it. It wasn’t being caught. Nope. Foster was in his practice gear—a cut off white t-shirt over his pads that showed off his abs and the sprouting hair climbing up from under the waistband of his near see-through pants. Lower, he could see a jockstrap through the thin material and the outline of a cup. Lifting his gaze to Foster’s, he noticed a glint in the guy’s eye.
“I thought you were supposed to be in detention?” Jude asked.
“Same could be said about you,” Foster replied.
Tension coiled between them.
“I know you or Rick took something of mine. I want it back.”
Foster marched forward, ripping his backpack from Jude’s hands. “I didn’t take your shit.” He shoved his bag back into his locker before spinning to glare at Jude. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Or what?”Jude asked, lifting his chin defiantly.
Foster took a step closer. “You don’t belong in here.”
“You’re one thousand percent right about that. So give me what was stolen from me, and I’m gone.”
“I don’t have anything of yours,” Foster muttered.
He searched Foster’s face a couple of seconds. “But Rick does?”
Foster wouldn’t look him in the eye.
Jude went to the locker beside Foster’s and inserted the key. “No worries. I’ll find it.”
“How did you open that?”
“None of your business,” Jude said, reaching into the books, looking to see who’s stuff it was.
“You need to get out of here before someone sees you,” Foster whispered. “I can’t save you from the entire team.”
Jude whipped around to face Foster. “Who asked you to save me?”
Foster slammed the locker closed and pushed himself between Jude and the next. “Just go. If that bag ends up gone, he might figure out it was you. He’ll be an even bigger dick tomorrow and you know it.”
“Rick can be mad all he wants. It’s not his,” Jude said. He shoved Foster’s chest. “Get out of my way.”
Foster didn’t budge.
Frustration raged inside Jude. The years of abuse and bullying came out as a primal scream. He punched Foster in the chin, letting out all the bottled-up indignation he’d suffered at the hands of too many bullies. After he got in another punch, Foster shoved him against the row of lockers behind them. He shoved Foster’s chest, trying to get the guy off him, but he wasn’t strong enough.
Foster snagged both of Jude’s wrists and yanked them over his head.
Jude stared up at Foster, the wind knocked from his lungs.
Foster shoved his body closer, pinning Jude there.
They glared at one another, breathing hard from the struggle. Jude sensed Foster’s mouth getting closer, but he was sure it wasjust a figment of his imagination. He didn’t like to admit it, but Foster Pricehadfeatured in a few fantasies over the years.
Why wouldn’t he? Foster was utter perfection. Dirty blond hair, ice blue eyes, and the body of an eighteen-year-old god.
As the seconds ticked by, neither of them moved… neither of them said a word… and the friction mounted. They stared at one another in silence, breathing roughly.
Foster moved a bit closer.
