Page 15 of Make Me Bleed
“I’ll fucking knock yours right off your goddamn shoulders if you don’t shut the fuck up,” I growl right back, uncaring that Coach is right across from us. He doesn’t seem to care either, too engrossed in the plays from the way his head is buried in his notes. Good for me, too, because I can’t afford to miss a game.
I need this.
“Touchy, touchy…” he drawls, coming closer, and I feel every muscle in my back tense for a fight. This stupid motherfucker not only took my scholarship, but he also took my captain’s spot and wants to run his mouth. After the week I’ve had. Month… year… hell, life!
“I’ll fucking ki?—”
“Aaand that’s enough of that,” Gabe says easily as he swoops in behind me and clamps his arms around my biceps and spins me around. “Jordan, quit being a dick. Peris, let’s… go over here.”
“What did I do?” Jordan says, sounding truly confused as Gabe ushers me away from the prick and toward the water bottles. I swipe mine up with a grunt and squirt a bunch of water into my mouth with a grimace, eyes trained on Jordan Bates’s stupid fucking face. Because of course the dumb motherfucker had to follow me to the same university. Had to join the same team. Had to takemyscholarship and my team and make ithis…
“You’re fixating again,” Gabriel says, and my eyes snap to his.
“Am not,” I bite, fingers clamping on the plastic, making it creak.
“You’re staring at him like you want to either kill him or kiss him.”
I splutter at the insinuation. “Fuck you, bud. Like you don’t?” I ask, refusing to acknowledge the last part of his sentence—and he knows it.
“I don’t have anything against Jordan, Peris.”
I rear back, offended. And shocked. Locking my molars together, I grit out, “I told you what he said—what hedid?—”
“Yes.” He nods, solemn. “But we were kids back then. I think he deserves a second chance. In case you forgot, you said and did shit that you probably didn’t mean that I forgave you for.”
The reminder of that makes me freeze, and I blink a few times at Gabe and the stark reminder of who I used to be—an angry little kid filled with so much hate, I would spew it at my best friend and not even see how much hurt I was causing him…
I’m doing it all over again.
And I don’t care.
Again.
Fuck. I really am a piece of shit.
“You just want to forgive him for what he did?” I ask, ignoring everything else because that’s what I’m good at.
Gabe sighs loudly likeI’mannoyinghim.“I don’t have anything to forgive him for. He didn’t do shit to me, Peris. He hurt you. And Abel.” I flinch at his name being said so casually, but Gabriel pretends like he didn’t see anything. “I have already talked to him about this, and I think you would benefit from the same. If you would ever get off your high horse.”
“He’s a homophobic piece of shit,” I snarl, fingers clenching into tight fists at my sides.
Gabe raises a brow slowly. So slowly, I start to feel my skin crawl with the sensation of perception. Like he can see more than what’s on the outside—what Iwantothers to see.
“Okay, Peris,” he finally concedes with a sigh after what feels like forever but is probably only thirty seconds.
“Don’t act like where I’m coming from is some crazy place that doesn’t make sense! It’s not even about that. He took my scholarship. My place on the team. He took what I was supposed to have. He hasmy life.” By the time I’ve finished my rant, I’m panting, and my eyes sting oddly. I blink a few times, trying to clear the burning, but it persists, and my fucking handachesas if the reminder makes the healed bones hurt more.
Gabe stares at me oddly, and I hate the way he’s perceiving me, so I turn my back on him to look out at the team running drills, Jordan at the center of it all with Coach overseeing. The sight leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. Even though I know we’re one of the best teams of the year and we’re getting ready for March Madness, I can’t help but feel indignant that it’s because ofhimand not me.
I could’ve had it all. The team, the boy.The life.
And I have none of it because I’ve been set for ruin since the momenthetouched me.
“Have you talked to your mom?”
I whirl around, my mask of indifference slipping in an instant and replaced with pulsing anger. “How fucking dare you?” I snarl.
“Yes. How dare I care. Right, Peris?” A rare flash of anger flickers across Gabriel’s face, bringing me pause. He’s usually good at remaining calm and collected—at keeping himself together when I’m falling apart. “She’ssuffering.”
