Page 1 of Cross the Line
PROLOGUE
ELIJAH
SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD
Being on the road used to be my escape. It was a window into the freedom I wanted so badly. I could explore the world outside Havenview and learn what normal life is like. Outside the town and away from The Fellowship, it feels easier to breathe and laugh.
Even if the guys are unsure of me after Presley told them all my father is a preacher. For some reason, they all think that I’m going to condemn them if they talk to me. It sucks, but it’s way better than always being stuck in the same place, doing the same things, pretending to fit in, and conforming to laws that don’t make sense to me.
When Ryker joined the team, I was afraid that this escape would be taken away from me. Presley has a habit of ruining the best parts of my life; I don’t even know why.
It’s the reason I had to make it very clear to him that if he breathed a word about Ryker being gay, it wouldn’t just be me who suffered the consequences. His father would be forced to take him out, too, and his chance at a pro career would be kaput.
Thankfully, it worked. Even if he thinks that now he has to work extra hard to put me back in my place so that he remains the kingpin.
Stuffing the last of my kit in my bag, I ignore Presley’s wolf whistle when one of his cronies bumps into me straight from the shower. Steam hangs heavy; the room’s a blur of skin and red and orange tiles.
A tight, quick beat starts in my throat, the kind that says I need to get out of here STAT.
“Go get it, girl,” Presley heckles over the cacophony of conversations, instantly silencing every person in the locker room.
All the sound sucks inward. Martins doesn’t even care that his naked body is still glued to me as he clocks the sudden hush. When I pull back, eyes are everywhere. Heat needles my neck. Before I can untangle my kit bag from his towel, he shoves me full force into a locker. Metal pops in my ears; I bite down on a curse as his towel catches on the strap of my kit bag.
The more he shoves me, the more impossible it becomes to hold myself up with the bench pushing into my calves and the back of my knees.
Fuck.
The floor’s slick; balance goes thin as a skate edge.
Suddenly, my shoes slip on the wet tiles, and I drop to my ass.
My pulse rockets at the situation. Martins’ dick is pressed to my chest while my face is glued to the top of his stomach. Every time he yanks at his towel, it gets worse. Confidence can’t fix physics; I just need an inch of air and one clean move.
Keep it together. You’re fine. Get clear, then walk.
If I don’t take control, this is going to escalate until it becomes the new source for Presley’s insults. After I beat his ass last week, he’s vying for a way to get at me. Even though nobody cares about his jibes anymore—they’re getting old and tired, and every guy on the team knows that Ryker and I are only friends—I’m doing my best to keep my head down and avoid any more drama with him. It’s not the reputation I want with the team.
“Stay still,” I yell into Martins’ wet skin. My voice breaks with my panic and frustration, which only makes me sound breathy.
“Awww, look at that,” Presley instantly pipes up, “he’s flustered.”
“Shut up, Asshole,” Ryker snaps at him as I shove Martins away from me and untangle his towel from my kit bag, throwing it at his crotch so his dick isn’t in my line of sight anymore.
“Jealous, Hallman?” Presley taunts Ryker while I get up and sling my gym bag over my shoulder again, ignoring all the eyes on me.
Last time we were on the road, he was shitting himself that he might have Chlamydia. Apparently, he was pissing through a fire hose. Turns out the moron can’t tell the difference between an STD and a minor UTI.
And they call me a pussy.
“Don’t stress, Hallman, the only ass I’m into has tits,” the idiot sniggers.
“Yeah, I doubt any ass will go near your riddled cock. Speaking of, how’s The Clam treating you? Are you even able to get it up?” Ryker snarks at him, grabbing his stuff. When he catches up to me on the way out, he slings his arm around my shoulders. “They say that’s a side effect, you know? That you can’t get a chub afterwards.”
The guys laugh behind us, spurring Ryker on.
“Yeah, Motherfucker, good luck with that one.”
When we’re out of the locker room, I extricate myself from him. I would never do it in front of the guys—I hate the thought of embarrassing Ryker when he’s already got so much adversity to deal with. It’s ridiculously unreasonable that his sexuality diminishes his character when he’s a decent guy… with a loose tongue.
