Page 12 of Pay for Your Lies

Sprints, drills, weights and long runs had sponsored today’s workout and the team would be feeling them and cursing me out for a while.

I grunt at him in answer, toweling off my forehead as we head towards the locker room.

I put myself through the same workout as the rest of the team so I’m sweating profusely, my hair sticking to my forehead before I ruffle it and push it back on my head.

“Do you need a shag, is that it?” He asks, clapping my shoulder.

“Fuck off.” I say, shrugging him off with a laugh.

“I’m serious. You’re not usually this tyrannical on the pitch. It felt like you were exorcizing demons out there.”

“Something like that.” I reply vaguely, because in many ways I was.

We walk into the locker room as I answer him, joining the rest of the team who’d gone in ahead of us. They’re having an animated discussion about something, although I don’t pay them any attention.

I shed my dirty clothes, wrap a towel around myself and head towards the showers.

Less than ten minutes later, I’m clean and changed. I grab my shoes and sit down next to Phoenix, joining in on the team conversation.

Most of the crew is still here and unshowered, still shooting the shit.

Phoenix has a small smile lifting the corner of his lips. It’s barely there, but for him that’s basically a full fledged grin.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing yet.” He replies, cryptically.

Devlin claps his hands loudly, pulling my attention away from Phoenix before I can question him further.

“She’s new but the things I’d do to her, mate.” He says, rubbing his hands together. “I’d make a home for myself in her tight cunt.”

And just like that, the conversation penetrates my indifference and has my interest.

I turn away from Phoenix and face Devlin, loosely crossing my arms as I recline against the locker behind me.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Captain,” He acknowledges, turning towards me. Immediately, all eyes in the locker room are on us.

I don’t care for Devlin.

Never have.

I think he’s a sloppy player with lazy habits who’s more interested in the status he gets from being a part of the team than actually playing the sport.

More focused on sitting at our table than being a valued teammate in any way.

Because of that, he’s inconsequential. I neither like him nor dislike him, he simply doesn’t matter.

That changes if he’s talking about who I think he’s talking about.

“New girl, Cap.”

I raise an unimpressed eyebrow at him, feigning indifference.

“I wouldn’t mess with Bellamy. Rogue will have your head.” I tell him, my tone friendly. “He’ll have your head, your hands, and your balls for that matter.”

“That’s alright,” he says, and that better be the end of his fucking sentence, “Thayer’s the one I want.”

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