Page 16 of The Defender
I laughed and pulled my shirt over my head. “Sorry, man, Samson’s right. You gotta toughen up or we’ll never beat Milan this weekend.”
“Fuckin’ Milan. Don’t worry. We’ll beat ’em.” Stevens raised his voice. “Right, boys?”
“Fuck yeah!”
“We’re going to kick their ass!”
“Blackcastle til the end!”
Raucous agreement filled the changing room. It was interspersed with laughter and the usual shit talking, though it was more subdued today than usual. Training had been brutal, and the pressure was on to deliver during this weekend’s match.
Since we topped the Premier League last season, we’d automatically qualified for this year’s Champions League, or UCL, Europe’s most prestigious club football competition. Our next hurdle was clearing the knockout stages to make it to the semi-finals in the spring. I felt good about our odds, but we had some tough matches ahead.
“How’s the new flatmate situation going?” Asher asked. He’d already showered and changed. How the fuck was that possible when we only finished training ten minutes ago? “Did Brooklyn spike your protein shake with laxatives yet?”
“No, and don’t give her any ideas. You know she’d do it.”
“Don’t tempt me. I have plenty of ideas, but I’ll keep them to myself for Scarlett’s sake. Just don’t piss me off, yeah?”
“Fuck off, Donovan.” But I was smiling.
I’d been living with Brooklyn for almost a week, and it was going surprisingly well. We had the same schedule, the same cleaning habits, and the same diet. She took an absurdly long time in the bathroom every morning, but I hogged the television every other night, so it was a fair tradeoff.
That being said, I was never letting my protein shakes out of my sight again.
I was about to head for the showers when the changing room fell silent. “DuBois!” Coach’s voice boomed through the sudden quiet. Every head swiveled toward me. “My office. Now.”
A low chorus ofoohssprang up from the rest of the team. I swear, it was like captaining a bunch of schoolboys.
“Shit. What did you do?” Asher asked.
“No fucking clue.”
I walked toward Coach’s office, my steps heavy with trepidation.
He hadn’t called me to his office out of the blue since Asher first transferred to Blackcastle. Our rivalry at the time had cost us the league final, and Coach had been furious.
But Asher and I were friends now, so that was no longer an issue. Training had gone smoothly today, and the club’s overall performance this season was stellar.
I racked my brain for other reasons why Coach would want a sidebar but came up blank.
“Close the door and sit down,” he said when I entered his office. He sat behind his desk, his expression inscrutable.
I did as he asked, my unease growing by the second. “What’s this about, Coach?”
He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and regarded me for a long moment. “You’ve been keeping a secret from me.”
My stomach plummeted to my feet.Shit. Had he found out I was living with Brooklyn? If so, did he think we were sleeping together?
A dozen images of my immediate future flashed through my mind, each bloodier than the last.
Me getting strangled by Coach.
Me being pummeled to death by one of his paperweights.
Me meeting the lethal end of his letter opener.
I gulped and shifted my attention to his desk. That was a mistake. The first thing I saw was a photo of Brooklyn smiling up at me from beside his computer. She was wearing a yellow sundress and her hair was shorter, but her smile and the sparkle in her eyes were the same.
