Page 48 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

“Head in, boys,” Coach says. “I expect you both to be leaders at tryouts.”

We nod. I’ve only taken a few steps when Coach calls me back.

“Where’s your list of schools?” he asks. “We discussed this the other day.”

Fucking hell.

“Did my uncle call to ask about that, too?”

He grunts. “I mean it, Caleb. Get your head out of your ass and think smart. Deadlines are approaching.”

I shake my head. “That it?”

He appraises me. Sometimes I make him mad enough that I think he’s going to take a swing at me. But then again, he’s a teacher and I’m a student. Whose side would they take?

“Go on.” He jerks his head toward the school.

Most of the team is done and gone by the time I get into the locker room. A quick, hot shower warms my bones. But I can’t shake the feeling that pressure is creeping up on me. My uncle, my mom. They’re prying.

Liam waits for me by my locker. “What’d he want?”

“Theo’s co-captain with me now.”

He shakes his head. “Shit. What’d you do to deserve that?”

I eye him. “Probably stuck my dick where he didn’t want it.”

Liam snorts. “That’d explain why he picked Theo instead of Eli or me.”

Coach is all about the sport. No time for lust or mind games. No time for drinking, partying, girls.

“This is a serious sport!” he frequently yelled at us.

I’m pretty sure he lives alone and parties hard in the summer—when there’s no lacrosse practice to worry about, no footage to analyze.

He’s still in his prime. Maybe only thirty years old. Fit. Angry.

As I said: the original golden boy.

“How’s Mar—I mean, Amelie?” Liam asks.

I shake my head. “I’m not touching Amelie. She’s fucking delusional.”

“You may not be touching her, but she sure as hell has no problem draping herself over you like a damn wet towel.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing my bag. We walk out together. “She’s got an issue with Theo and wants me to save her from it.”

Liam shakes his head. “Not gonna comment on that.”

“And you?” I look over at him. “No girls you’re chasing?”

“Nope. Free as a bird!”

He’s a lying bastard. All of us are. It’s the glue that holds us together. That and undying loyalty. I might want to punch Liam’s face in sometimes, but I’d kill for him. He’d do the same for me.

“You have a plan?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

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