Page 91 of Endgame

I stood up, unsmiling, and walked across the room.

The moment Mason’s gaze landed on mine, all humor in his eyes faded fast.

“It was a joke, dude,” he offered, holding his hands up in retreat. “I was just screwing around.”

I didn’t say a word as I approached. I just smiled, knowing I was about to bust this fucker’s nose.

“Rourke,” Mase warned, taking a step back. He knew the drill by now. Mason and I had a lifelong friendship where any issues that came up were always resolved in a fight. “Chill out. It was a joke.” When he realized I wasn’t about tochill out, Mase groaned. “Aw fuck,” he choked before taking a swing at me.

I ducked, easily dodging Mason’s fist, before rearing my head back and lunging forward. The moment my forehead connected with his nose, a loud crunching sound filled my ears.

“God fucking dammit, Rourke,” Mason howled, staggering backwards. “That’s the third fucking time you’ve broken my nose, fucker.” Covering his face with his hands to stem the loss of blood, he mumbled. “Always the fucking nose.”

“Make one more fucking comment about her and I’ll break your goddamn legs,” I warned him, tone low, eyes locked on my friend. “Mercy James isn’t a topic of humor or conversation for you or anyone else. You keep her name off your lips and her face out of your perverted fucking minds.” I looked around my teammates in warning. “Ya’ll got that?”

No one said a word, making it clear to me that these fuckers got it.

I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the changing rooms, not wanting to wait around and explain to coach why his first string tight end had a broken nose two days before game night.

I walked through the quad towards the student parking lot with my fists clenched tightly.

Listening to Mason talk about Six back there had been the straw that broke the camel’s back for me.

My proposition last night had gone down like a lead balloon and Six had been avoiding me like the plague ever since.

School sucked ass today, mostly because Six wasn’t talking to me. She just walked through the hallways with her nose cocked up in the air, ignoring the hell out of me.

I’d been watching her from a distance at school all day and it was driving me bat shit crazy. What was pushing me closer to the edge was having to watch the guys at school ogle her and watch her every move when she walked past. I personally wanted to kick the shit out of every guy that looked in her direction.

Nothing was calming me.

Absolutely nothing.

No amount of running or training helped. I was burning inside. Bristling with this unyielding thrum of energy buzzing inside of me.

Everywhere I went today, I either saw her or heard someone talking about her.

Yeah, Six was big news around the school – I’d known she would be. You didn’t look like her and go under the radar. Not that she seemed to give a damn about any of the attention. I liked that about her. She was completely unfazed by how she affected the guys around her. it was as if she didn’t care.

Maybe she didn’t.

Maybe she was used to it.

Had to be.

I thought about Mason and Daryl and how easy it was for them. They could promise a girl whatever she wanted to hear and not give a damn about the consequences or the aftermath.

Why couldn’t I be like that?

Because I read too much into shit.

No, I read too damn much into my mother’s fucking letters.

Promise me, Rourke, that you’ll never intentionally hurt a girl.

Always tell the truth, my boy, it’s much easier to remember.

Following your heart’s desire is a beautiful thing,

---