Page 57 of Foul Line

Behind him, I see Sloan shove one of the guys he was tousling with to the ground. He looks up, his gaze meeting mine. Concern etches his features, a stark contrast to the streaks of blood over his face.

In front of me, Lake falls to the ground. He’s passed the fuck out for good this time. I rise to my feet, ignoring the jab of pain from my hip, and pull at Lake’s wrists. I slide him across the floor. He didn’t want me to help him on his feet, so he can suffer through me dragging him to the car. I yank hard once, getting his body moving. Hayes assesses the situation and must think I have everything handled because he turns. The look in his eyes terrifies me.

A quick check of the bar tells me the police have already been called. The bartender is standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he glares at the commotion in front of him. Maybe this is a typical Saturday for him. But what’s not typical is the fact that the Ballers are all underage with fake ID’s. If they get found out, they’re fucked. This thought spurs me on. I’d be just as happy leaving Lake there, but the Ballers won’t go without him. In order to get them to leave, I drag his ass out to the car. He grunts when I drag him over a large stone that was used to designate the parking area.

Maybe I enjoy ruthlessness too because a sick smirk of satisfaction crosses my lips.

“Get the fuck out,” someone yells. I look up as I round the corner of the building to find Alec stumbling out of the bar. Sloan and Ryan follow while Hayes stalks forward without a bruise or telltale sign of a fight on him. An overweight man with a scraggly mustache fills the door frame of the bar. “Don’t ever come back.”

Sloan waves the middle finger behind his head, and I shake my head at his audacity. Is this what the Ballers do for fun? What the fuck is wrong with them?

“Here,” Alec says, moving forward. He reaches around in his pocket and brings out a fob. He pushes a button down and the car I’m just about to pass beeps to life. This must be the car they borrowed to come here.

I drop Lake’s hands. They fall freely to the ground and bounce once they hit the dirt of the parking lot. I can still see the venom in his eyes from the bar. The way he stared at me and said he hated me makes a shiver of fear skirt up my spine. To my knowledge, I’ve never done anything to incur someone’s hate like that.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Ryan says, dragging his hands through his blond hair as he checks the road.

I’m already walking toward my car. If they think I’m going to go down with them if they get caught, they have another thing coming. I haven’t worked so hard at camp for this.

“I’ll drive Lake,” Ryan says. Alec and Sloan are already sliding him into the backseat of the borrowed car. If he’s as drunk as I think he is, there’s no way that car is getting out of this unscathed. The contents of Lake’s stomach will probably be all over the upholstery by the time they get back to camp. “You guys go with Tessa.”

“Tessa’s leaving,” I snap back. “Now. So, if anyone wants a ride, they better get in the fucking car.”

I whip the driver’s side door open and get in. The engine starts underneath me with a push of a button, and even though it sounds like it’s normal growly self, I kind of wish I had the power to make it sound angrier. I start backing out of the space. The passenger door opens and Sloan shouts, “Hey.”

I slam on the brakes. “Get in the fucking car.”

Sloan pushes the front seat forward and lunges for the backseat, Alec following him. The seat snaps back into position and Hayes gets in, his expression stoic. As soon as he shuts the door, I gun the engine. I whip the steering wheel to the left just as Ryan’s about to back up and catch in the dirt as I move around him. At the end of the parking lot, I squeal my tires as I leave the neon lights of the bar behind me. I’m seething on the way back. Sloan attempts to put his hands on my shoulder, but I shrug him off.

“Aw, come on,” Sloan says. “You didn’t find any of that hot?”

“Am I an animal?”

He kneads my shoulders.

“I mean it, Sloan. Get the fuck off me.”

Hayes twists in his seat and sends Sloan a menacing look. Sloan immediately pulls his hands away.

I nod toward the glove compartment. “There are probably napkins in there for the idiots in the backseat.”

I close my eyes briefly at the thought of them getting blood all over my car. It would be one thing if they were injured through no fault of their own. If the guys in the bar just started beating them for no reason, I’d want blood myself. I probably would’ve thrown myself right in the middle of it, but what the hell were they doing there in the first place? Giving up their careers, obviously.

I glance at Alec in the backseat. He catches my eye, and I shake my head at him. He could’ve thrown two careers out the window tonight. All he needs is a broken wrist. A broken hand. As soon as we get back from basketball camp, his pre-season baseball games start. The ones he won’t give up because he won’t give up the dream of playing basketball, but he’ll give it up by getting into a bar fight with a bunch of townies. That’s so smart.

I thought these boys were as driven as me. Maybe I was wrong the whole time. They’re used to getting things thrown in their lap, so they’ll take all the risks they can get.

“I see that look,” Sloan says. “Trust me, I don’t need anyone else looking at me with so much disappointment. I’ve seen and heard it all before.”

I nibble on my lip. I know his parents are a sore subject, and no matter how much I want to tell him I wouldn’t have to look at him like that if he didn’t do this one stupid thing, I imagine he’s heard it all before and then some. Keeping silent only makes me more furious though. Maybe I expected more out of these boys than they deserve.

Headlights follow me all the way back to camp. When I pull into the same parking spot I vacated hours ago with Ryan, I feel like I can finally breathe. Hopefully the guys at the bar won’t be able to trace us back here. If we’re lucky—what am I saying. If they’re lucky—they kept their mouths shut about basketball while they were at the bar.

The borrowed car pulls to a stop beside us. I turn the Mustang’s engine off and stand from the car. Ryan whisks his door open and the telltale noises of someone vomiting erupts from the car. I was right. Whoever they borrowed this car from is going to be so pissed, and rightfully so.

“Give me a hand guys,” Ryan says. He shuts his own door and opens up the back. He pulls Lake out by the shoulders. His legs drop to the ground. He’s still vomiting. He’s shaking, too. His skin is pale white and there’s fierce red streaks over his cheeks.

“Jesus,” I sigh. “What the hell’s wrong with him? How much did he drink?”

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