Page 27 of Away Game

“I know. I know.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Would it kill you to be friends with him?”

“It might,” I grumbled as I took a step back. Turning on my heel, I made my way upstairs. I almost skipped stopping by West’s room, but Oz’s fucking voice wouldn’t get out of my head.

Knocking on his door that was left slightly open, I hesitated only a moment before I barged in. Even after all he’d been through last night and today, West still kept his door open to the guys.

He was slipping off his bed to greet whoever had knocked on his door but halted when he saw me standing there. I couldn’t help but let my gaze ping pong around his room. It was similar to mine, yet West had put touches of home all around. There were picture frames of him with his mom and a younger boy who looked almost identical to him at different stages throughout the years. He had football posters on one wall and a candle on his desk that was lit.

Tired eyes looked up at me, and West let out a weary sigh. “What do you want, Fin?”

Leaning against the door frame, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Believe it or not, but I came to check to see if you need anything before I crash for a couple of hours.”

“I…” West gaped at me before he cleared his throat. “I’m good or as good as a person can be when they find out a group of guys drugged him and tried to get him to have sex with some… girl and then beat the shit out of him because he couldn’t. And then the person who hates him the most in this world saves him. I should be… no, I am grateful. Thank you for last night and today. It could have been so much worse.”

“Well, don’t let it happen again because I won’t be there to save you.” Grabbing his door handle, I slammed the door closed on my way out.

As I stormed to my own room, Maverick cracked his door and peeked out. His long hair that was usually up in some stupid man bun was down and looked like he’d had some girl’s hands running through it all night. “Everything alright?”

“Mind your own fucking business, Maverick.” I gave a little extra emphasis on the last syllable of his name because I thought it was a stupid fucking name. Were his parents Top Gun fanatics or something?

His eyes widened for a moment before he shut the door. I could hear his feet scurry across the hardwood floors until I was at my own door. Throwing open my door, I proceeded to slam it and then threw myself on my bed. One thing I’d done to my room since I’d moved in was I had black-out curtains installed so I could sleep day or night. There was nothing worse than coming home from a grueling practice with the bright ass sun shining through my windows to keep me awake.

Pulling my blanket up, I closed my eyes and snapped them open immediately when the only thing I saw was West on the floor of that fucking frat room. The bruises and the vacant look in his eye were burned into my brain. Every time I thought about it or the images flashed through my head, I wanted to rage on Alpha Mu and West.

Logically, I knew there was no reason to be mad at West, but I couldn’t help myself. I hated the way he made me feel, and after this incident, my feelings for him were even more jumbled.

I couldn’t afford a distraction, and now I was afraid West would be more on my mind than ever. If he thought we were friends now, he was sorely mistaken. There could never be a time when we were anything but enemies.

Sometimes I let myself daydream about what life would be like if I gave into my desires, but I always shut them down. People in my world weren’t gay, or bi, or whatever the hell I was. At this point, I didn’t know what I was. I used women to fulfill my needs, but I wasn’t attracted to them. The problem was, I also wasn’t aroused by men. The only person on the planet who seemed to do it for me was the man who laid battered and bruised down the hall.

The only thing I knew was I hated myself for the way my heart beat a staccato rhythm in my chest cavity every time he was near. My dick turned to steel, and when I thought of him as I jerked myself off, I came harder than any other time.

It wasn’t only that the object of my desire was male. No, that was bad enough, but the icing on the cake was also because West came from nothing, and people in my family didn’t marry into nothing. Not that I planned to marry him. No, that wasn’t in the cards for me. Now or ever.

Even as my thoughts made my anger soar, my eyelids slowly started to droop. The little sleep I got in the uncomfortable recliner last night could no longer keep me awake.

That night, I dreamed of a life that was so far out of my reach, it made me more bitter than ever when I woke up the next morning.

14

West

Coach Kyle stoodin front of us with his hands on his hips with a deep scowl on his handsome face. I have to admit there were days where it was hard to pay attention to him when he looked like Taylor Kitsch. Today wasn’t one of those days. Even from five feet away, I could feel the anger rolling off him. “Whose bright idea was it to attend an Alpha Mu party Friday night?”

He started to pace in front of us, and every few seconds, Coach would turn his angry scowl on some unsuspecting person. Ridley, who was one of the biggest players and could easily lay anyone out if he wanted, shrank back as Coach’s gaze landed on him.

“It wasn’t mine, Boss,” he stammered out. When Coach continued to drill him with a murderous glower, Ridley sat up straighter on the bench and muttered out. “We were told it was cleared by you.”

“Well, it fucking wasn’t cleared by me. Why on God’s green Earth would I say you could go to a party when from day one I’ve said they were off-limits? I said I would not have anyone coming to make sure you were in by my set curfew because I thought I could trust you. Obviously, I was wrong. One fucking night and one of your teammates gets drugged and assaulted. Where were you to help your brother out?”

“Coach, if we would have known, we would have helped—”

“You should have prevented it,” Coach yelled. His face turned an ugly shade of red. Each syllable bounced off the cinderblock walls of the locker room.

With each word, I wanted to hide even more. I had debated on whether or not I should show up to practice, but Coach hadn’t said I was free to stay home, so I dragged my ass to the locker room, knowing I couldn’t practice this week. My ribs weren’t broken, but they were bruised. I was advised to take at least two weeks off, but since I was, according to Coach, the team’s best wide receiver, he said he’d have me examined weekly and assessed for that week’s practice and gameplay.

“Get your asses up,” he yelled, and the entire team jumped to their feet. “I want you all out on the field. First, I want you to do fifty forties, and then five miles around the track.”

Everyone groaned, including me. I was glad I didn’t have to endure that torture.

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