Page 34 of Dirty Roulette
“Oh, he didn’t tell you? The Crab here barged in and the bottle landed on him. He wants to sleep with Trash.” The wry smile creepingon Brody’s face sparks electricity to fire through my spine and into my fists.
Jared’s mouth gapes open as he says her name. “Payton?”
“Why are you doing this to her? She’s a virgin. She should be able to stay that way if she wants!” I lash out.
“Don’t tell me you have feelings for her?” Brody raises his brow.
Jared and Nick must have a sixth sense because the second I step forward, they grasp my shoulders on cue. All it takes is one fist fight and the Conduct Board will take his side. Board members will stretch their legs across that maple desk, lace fingers behind their heads, and soak up whatever white lie Brody scrounges up to cover his ass.
“You really want to fight me?” Brody runs a hand through his slick hair. “Go ahead, take your best shot.” He holds out his arms and takes a few steps back with his amused expression. With Coach on the other side of the field, I refrain myself. “Maybe this one won’t get bored with you.” The group of linemen are like brainless sheep as they stand up and their shadows hover over me. Even Bustling Tito crosses his arms, and I’m out numbered. “But if you don’t want to sleep with her, someone on the team will, and after today I’m not letting it slide. I want a video of you nailing her,” he says.
“That video of Trailer Girl was dope!” One of the linemen held up his hand, and they high-five. “Can’t wait to see that one posted.”
“You’re not posting shit about Payt on that website!” I stomp up to Brody and shove him in the shoulder pads, nearly knocking him off his feet. Tension in the air grows thick. “Let her off the hook!”
“What?” Brody laughs, both of his eyebrows lifting. He steps closer, his chest pressing against mine with an expressionless face. “I can post whatever I want.” I’ve been tackled plenty of times before. He doesn’t phase me.
My blood boils and I can’t stand here and take it. I slug at him, my knuckles shattering as I land a punch to his face. The next thing I remember is a sharp pain in my stomach and I double over. Someone grabs me by the jersey and tosses me to the ground. Everything goes black as I eat dirt, and the taste of iron finds my tongue.
There's nothing I can do. I can’t fist-fight my way out of it, or stop Brody. Hecanpost whatever he wants because he made the website. Any sore loser with a bruised ego can put the girl dumping them on blast. People all over the campus call out “the sluts”. Girls’ social media profiles and numbers are linked for anyone to click on. We all know who’s easy to get with, the screamers, the flexible girls who like hair pulling, and it’s clickbait who caught chlamydia last weekend. We know who cheated on who.
There are no threads with Payton mentioned as I checked before practice, but the second they put her nudes up, she’ll spiral. And out of all the girls in the universe, I know she doesn’t deserve it.
Someone wraps a fist around my hair, pulling me off the ground. I go in and out of blackout spells. “It came out of your mouth that you wouldn’t do this to my sister,” I say, and a sharp pain thrashes against my cheek.
“But she isn’t your sister, now is she?” Brody asks.
No, she’s not. He’s caught me there, but I stumbled out of the bedroom every weekend to see Payton inches away and never thought about laying a finger on her. Sleepovers, and her invading the house lodges in the back of my mind. She was always like a little sister but in the past seventy-two hours, the way I see her switched gears.
Brody’s fists twist around my jersey, pulling my face inches from him.“She decided to play the game, and you’re not sweet-talking me out of it!” He throws me to the ground and another foot rams into my stomach.
“You said you wouldn’t do this to them!”
“I’m not going to delete those damn pictures of that piece of trash!” Brody spits in my face. He twisted his fist in my hair, leaning in. “Ask me one more time, and you won’t be breathing.” He punches me in the face again. “Now are we good, Crab?!”
“Break it up!” Coach hollers. He pushes the team aside as Jared and Nick lift me up by the arms and help me steady myself. “Both of you, my office. Now!”
Chapter thirteen
Payton
Practice is over and I’m beat. I’m about ten steps away from the girls’ locker room when someone yanks my upper arm and tosses me into the janitor’s closet.
“What the hell!” I ball my fist, ready to punch someone square in the face for the second time today. I swivel around, and there’s Ryder with a fat bloody lip and a cut against his eyebrow. He uses the collar of his jersey to wipe the remnants of blood off his lip.
“What happened?” I grab onto his forearms. He’s soaking in sweat. Sheer panic creeps up my spine, and the sight of Ryder leaves me incapable of catching my breath. His chiseled features are marred with cuts and bruises.
“Shh,” he presses a finger to his lips and closes the janitor’s closet. His voice shakes. Ryder isn’t the type of guy to express fear, but he’s shuddering and his face is ashen.
“Why are we hiding in the janitor’s closet? What happened to you?”
“Shh, lower your voice,” He hushes. His eyes dart toward the door like he’s expecting someone to chase him down. I swallow a large lump stuck in my throat. All the blood drains from my face, and my heart thuds hard.
“Did you get into a fight?”
“Yes... with Brody.”
“Why?”
