Page 66 of Another Roommate (Life in the Brohouse 4)

I release a satisfied sigh when my door unlocks, which is immediately erased when loads of trash falls out onto the floor and onto my jeans. Laughter permeates around me while I stand there, like a fucking idiot, with my jaw nearly hanging on the ground and my eyes feeling as if they’re going to bug out of my head.

I hear high fives from behind and whip around, scowling at my asshole teammates, wondering which one had the wise idea to fill my locker with trash. My eyes land on Brody leaning against his locker, his gaze filled with bitter amusement. Timmons stands next to him, smirking.

“Did you assholes do this?” I ask while waving a hand to the mess surrounding me. My nose wrinkles in distaste at the rotting smell, and bile rises in my throat as I feel something slimy oozing into my jeans.

Brody kicks away from his locker. Timmons follows closely behind him, and the laughter quickly dies down. All eyes are on us, standing in the middle of the locker room with our fists clenched. I don’t know what the hell I did to get on Brody’s nerves. It’s not like I’ve been trying to retake his position as quarterback. Coach has hardly looked at me all season. It’s like whatever I do goes unnoticed. I’m the black sheep of the team.

But I suppose losing the last couple of games has set Brody off, and he needs someone to blame, to take his stress out on. I just happen to be that lucky someone.

“So what if I did?” says Brody while crossing his arms. “It’s not like you can prove it.”

I clench my jaw.Just turn around and walk away,I tell myself.He’s not worth it.It takes everything in me to turn around, to not slam my fist into his face, to not kick him to the floor. This semester has really taken its toll on me, and I also would love to have a punching bag to take it out on, or to at least play one game. I kick the trash away from my locker, grimacing as I feel my foot press into something soft.

My frown deepens as I take out my football jersey, stained with mustard and ketchup.Fucking assholes.There’s no time to go home and clean it. I don’t even know if I can remove the red and yellow, but at least the purple jersey is at home. I’ll have to buy a new one next week. Hopefully it won’t be too expensive.

The chuckles resume as I place my stained jersey on the bench. My muscles tighten. Rage boils inside me, but I take deep breaths to calm myself.Don’t let them get to you. It’s nothing. You can replace the items. They just want to get a rise out of you.I close my eyes, inhaling deeply and counting to ten before releasing my breath.

“Fucking trash,” I hear Brody mutter. “Just like his mother.”

My eyes snap open, and my body takes on a mind of its own. I whirl around, my fists tightening while I close the distance between us.

“Hunter-” I hear Timmons say and see him reaching for me out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t make it in time.

Brody’s eyes widen as I grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him against his locker. He gasps as I raise him higher, my muscles quivering with the exertion. “What the fu-” Brody starts, but stops as I shake him. His head knocks against the metal behind him and he hisses while grimacing.

“Shut the fuck up!” I shout, shaking him again.

His feet hover above the ground, kicking at my knees and shins, but I’m hardly aware of his touch. My body feels numb. All I can see his red. I lean in close, joy surging within me as Brody looks away, his breath coming out in pants. His body shudders in my grasp.

“Let him go,” I hear someone say at my side. Timmons? Cody? I don’t know and I don’t care.

“S-sorry,” Brody stutters.

My eyes narrow as I slowly release him, yet I do not move. I glare down at him, his eyes glued to the floor while someone pats my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

At that voice, I blink and turn around, finding Coach scowling at us.

“Why is no one ready? We’re starting in five minutes.” He sniffs and covers his nose, finding the trash lingering around my locker and my stained jersey. “What the-” His gaze returns to me, his mouth hanging open before promptly closing. I should tell him what happened, but I don’t. I’m not a tattletale, and I can handle my own problems.

Coach groans and turns on his heel. “I want everyone out and ready in two minutes!” he shouts while striding towards the door.

I cast Brody one last scowl before returning to my locker. We dress in silence, and I’m happy for it. They can bench me. They can talk shit about me at parties and treat me like the black sheep of the team. They can throw trash in my locker, destroy my things if they so insist. All that doesn’t matter.

But one word about my mother and their ass is mine.

As soon as I’m dressed, I follow my team out the door and towards the field. Music and the shouts of the crowd echo down the hall, only making me even more frustrated that I won’t be playing this game. Coach told me if I came, practiced hard, and supported my team, eventually I would be able to play. But when? I can’t help but feel more and more disappointed. I didn’t sign up to be a benchwarmer. Even when Brody fucks everything up, Coach refuses to play me. It’s like he’s punishing me, and I think part of the reason that Brody and the others are treating me like trash is due to Coach’s anger towards me.

If he’d just play me once, maybe we’ll finally get out of this rut and win a game.

My pace slows, and I hold a hand up, blocking the sun from my gaze. Blue and purple dot my vision while I trudge towards my bench. Coach waits for me, his hands on his hips and a deep frown on his face. I wonder if he thinks we’ll be losing this one, too. He looks angrier this year than I remember him.

Without saying a word, I plop my ass down, resting my helmet next to me. I take a long swig of water while looking at the crowd, searching for my bros, knowing I won’t be able to find them. It’s a little game I like to play these days to pass the time, given I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than watch my team lose. Again. It’s like staring into a Where’s Waldo book, but instead of looking for Waldo, I search for Lucas and Seth.

And Rachel.

My heart stalls as an image of her tearful gaze intercepts my mind. It’s painful thinking about her, painful to think that my girlfriend wants something more. My gaze lowers and I try to concentrate on the game instead. The football rises and Brody catches it, lunging forward and down the other side. He makes it two feet before being tackled to the ground.

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