Page 3 of Fighting Spirit

There’s no way, right? This has to be a joke because if this is what I think it is…

Frantically turning my head to try and pinpoint anything that can confirm my suspicions, there it is. I almost groan when I see a pennant pinned to the wall above the fireplace, under a crest for a fraternity I don’t recognize. The bright blue symbol of Beaufort College stares back at me, and I feel my muscles sag as I realize that I’m probably not about to get murdered.

No, the reality is much, much stupider.

I open my mouth to speak, to maybe cuss them out a little, and then demand that somebody drive me home, when I hear a low voice from somewhere behind me, accompanied byheavy footsteps thundering down a staircase. One by one, the guys standing around me look up at whoever is coming down the stairs with increasingly guilty expressions. Someone ducks behind the curtain in an attempt to hide and one guy looks as if he’s about to speak before someone else shoots him a look and he clamps his mouth shut.

The voice is cold as ice, a quiet fury that has them shuffling around, nobody willing to be the first to answer.

“What the fuck is going on down here?”

Chapter Two

ROWAN

At first, I try to ignore all the noise coming from downstairs.

It’s been suspiciously quiet for the last hour and I figured the guys had moved to one of the other houses on the street. Over the last two years, I’ve tried to avoid these parties. About three months into freshman year, the chaos that comes with cohabiting with a bunch of rowdy football players started getting to me. I moved out the following summer and haven’t looked back.

I love these idiots. But fuck if I don’t need my own space.

I only came to this party because Christian basically begged me to. Given everything that's changing, it seemed like a good idea to show my face, though I wasn’t expecting the invite to include forty minutes of going over his gameplay from this week’s practice.

Call me crazy, but I kind of thought he wanted to hang out.

All I wanted was one night of screwing around with the team, and as a bonus, it would have given me a great excuse to ignore the twelve unread messages from my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I was going to ignore them anyway, but at least if I’m busy, I don’t have to feel so guilty about it later.

Downstairs, it sounds like they’re playing beer pong or something, but as the voices start to pick up a panicked sort of edge, Christian raises his eyebrow at me from the edge of his bed. “You gonna go check that out?”

“No.” I grumble.

The last thing I want is to get involved in whatever they’ve got happening down there. This afternoon at practice, I heard some of the guys talk about ‘breaking in’ some of the freshmen. We’ve never had much of a problem with hazing, but sometimes the pranks get stupid as all hell and I don’t want to be around when it inevitably blows up in their faces.

“It sounds pretty bad?” Christian states hesitantly. I know exactly what he’s looking for, but I’m not about to play into his hand here.

“You go check it out then.”

“What?” he splutters. “I can’t-what can I-Rowan, come on, man.”

I lean forward in his chair and prop my elbows on my knees. “I’m not their babysitter, Christian. If they want to be hungover at practice, then it’s not my problem.”

Just as Christian opens his mouth to reply, there’s a collective sound of shock from downstairs, followed by some scuffling and a clatter.

God damn it.

I wish I could say I was surprised, but deep down, I knew this was probably how the night was going to end.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” I drop my head, pulling in a deep breath before I push up to stand, resigned to the fact that I’m going to have to go pick up the pieces of whatever shit’s being pulled on the ground floor.

This is why I moved, to try and get away from all this.

As I open Christian’s door, the voices get louder and from what I can pick out, it sounds like one of tonight’s pranks hasn’tgone to plan. I swear, one of these days, I’m going to strangle someone, coaching job be damned.

I round the top of the stairs, pausing to look down into the living room. The sight below has me stopping in my tracks.

There’s someone I don’t recognize on the couch. From above, all I can see is a mess of dark hair, waves that look partially crushed by what I assume was the green head that Jasper’s holding.

They didn’t…

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