Page 43 of Playing Dirty
My gaze shifts around the group, assessing the situation. The animosity is palpable as always, of course, but combined with alcohol, this entireconfrontation is a powder keg about to explode.
So I lift my hands slowly in surrender, and do my best to defuse the situation.
“Nah, that’s okay. We can leave,” I tell Wyatt, but Dillon is quick to pipe up with an idea of his own.
“But, you know, we did come all this way. And since most of your team is here…maybe you won’t mind if we check out some other parts of campus instead.”
My eyes sink closed for the briefest moment, wishing he could’ve kept his mouth shut. And, of course, because the situation wasn’t bad enough, Zander opens his mouth too.
“You know, Dill, that’s a great idea. I was talking to a girl earlier who mentioned seeing a pretty blue pennant hanging around campus since getting back from break,” he taunts wryly. “Maybe we should grab her for the ride, see if we can’t jog her memory for the location.”
I can’t be certain it’s a lie, though knowing Zander’s tendency to egg people on, I’m willing to bet it is. But regardless, it does the trick, because Wyatt may as well have steam pouring from his ears as he glances between my teammates.
“If you set foot anywhere on our turf after leaving here, I have no problem calling it in to campus security.”
“Right,” Dillon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because a group of old men with flashlights and ticket pads are so terrifying.”
Wyatt’s fingers clench at his sides. “Try me. I fucking dare you.”
A girl pops up beside him, her hazel eyes brimming with worry as she grabs his fist. “Wy, c’mon. Just let them be. It’s not worth it.”
Dillon laughs. “Yeah,Wy.Listen to your girlfriend.”
“Funny sentiment, since you haven’t listened to a goddamn thingI’vesaid all night.”
“Your demands aren’t written in gold,” Zander snarls, getting right back in Wyatt’s face before glancing at the girl beside him. “And screwing the sister of baseball royalty doesn’t make you a king.”
A chorus ofoohsechoes around us, and it takes me a second to realize this girl must be Lexi Waters—the younger sister of the Sacramento Storm’s catcher, Keene. The guy won a Golden Glove his first season in the majors last year, which is damn near unheard of.
And it’s his stats from his years playing college ball for Foltyn that I’ve been chasing my entire time at Blackmore.
I don’t really have the chance to process the revelation, though, because Wyatt is lunging for Zander, his hands fisting the front of my teammate’s shirt. It happens in a blink, but I recover quickly and rip Wyatt away before shoving my body between them. I don’t think either had time to throw a punch, and I’m determined to keep it that way when I grip Zander by the shoulder and block him from lunging back at Leighton’s captain.
I look behind me to find Theo and Phoenix joining the fray just as quickly, the latter ushering Lexi away while Theo slides in front of Wyatt, pressing his palms to his chest.
“Wyatt, calm down,” Theo hisses.
But Wyatt doesn’t hear him, all the fury and hatred boiling over as he tries to lunge for Zander again.
“Say another word about her, and I will fucking kill you!” Wyatt snarls.
“Like to see you try,” Zander taunts, and I have half a mind to deck him myself for his bullshit.
“Quit while you’re ahead, or I’ll make sure to let him get a right hook in before pulling him off you.” My gaze flashes up to Dillon before I shove Zander in his direction. “Get him out of here. I’ll meet you at the car.”
Something bumps me from behind before they have a chance to respond, and I glance back to find Theo right there, his shoulder knocking into mine. He’s struggling to keep Wyatt at bay until Phoenix steps in again, grabbing under Wyatt’s arms and putting him in some sort of headlock I’ve only seen wrestlers use.
I take a step in their direction—toward Wyatt—still looking to diffuse this entire situation, captain to captain.
“Wyatt—”
I don’t get more than his name out, because Theo turns enough to press his hand to my chest to stop me from approaching. The flame in his eyes from earlier ignites again, growing in intensity when his gaze drops to where only a thin layer of fabric separates our skin.
And that’s all it takes to send me straight back to Vermont. To the moment his hands were mapping my chest and arms in the hot tub. To the want in his eyes as he glared at me. To the anger and frustration he’d unleashed on me.
It’s all right there, at the forefront of my mind. And when his gaze lifts, colliding with mine again, I can tell it’s at his too.
I open my mouth to speak, having no idea what to say, but he beats me to the punch.
