Page 4 of Still Bruised
His gaze dipped to that perfect ass, wondering what it would look like without anything covering it. Jude looked over his shoulder with that one gorgeous green eye shooting daggers his way.
After class, Jude leapt from his chair and ran out of the classroom.
Smart.
Rick followed suit, but Foster put himself between them.
“Let it go.”
Rick growled at Foster and shoved past, but he didn’t race toward Jude, which was a minor miracle.
“Ah, Foster?”
Foster spun to find Mr. Lattimer outside the door.
“Upon reflection, I’m not punishing you. You don’t need to do detention.”
“Thanks,” Foster replied.
“Thank the boosters who would’ve been up my ass if I had taken their star quarterback out of practice for a week.”
Or maybe I didn’t do anything to deserve it.
Lattimer spun and welcomed students entering his door. Foster turned and headed toward second period. A few doors down, someone hooked his arm and dragged him into an empty classroom.
Rick and Aaron were both fighting laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
Rick pulled a small bag full of weed from his pocket.
“Put that away,” Foster growled, looking over his shoulder at the door. “Jesus Christ, man.”
“You’re such a tight ass,” Rick said. He opened the bag and took a whiff. “This shit’s half stem, but there’s enough for some fun thanks to Judith.”
“Jude?”
Rick lifted his gaze. “He dropped it when we were fighting. Aaron was able to swipe it before anyone saw. That’ll show Judith for suggesting I’m a homo.”
“Well, youdidcall him that first,” Foster muttered.
Rick closed the bag and shoved it in his jeans pocket. “Whatever. He’s a loser. I don’t know why you bothered putting that pretty face between my fist and his head.”
“You keep fighting and you’ll end up kicked off the team,” Foster said, which in that moment didn’t seem like such a loss. But Rick was their best running back and if they wanted to continue their winning season, they needed the guy eligible to play. He pointed to Rick’s pocket. “Which is what you’ll end up with that.”
“Only if I’m caught.” Rick patted his pocket. “You’re not going to narc on me, are you?”
Wish I could. “No,” Foster said, sighing.
“Judith isn’t going to say anything because he’d have to admit the pot was his. So we’re golden. Come over to my house after practice and we can give thanks to the fag—and his pot.”
“Stopcalling him that,” Foster said.
“Do you have a soft spot for Judith? Do you want him to suck your dick?”
“Why are you like this?” Foster asked before slipping back into the hallway, his stomach twisted by the questions.
Or maybe it was the visuals they had just given him.
