“Look,” I keep going. “If you have something to say to me about my game, you need to come out with it. I know today was shitty and maybe the last few weeks have been shitty as well. But I’m the fucking Wrecking Thorn. I’m not sitting out a season.”
A muscle is beating on his cheek as he says, “Well, Wrecking Thorn or not, you’re headed that way.”
“What?”
He sighs, his chest moving up and down. “You’re right. Today was shitty. The last few weeks have been shitty too. And people are watching. And by people, I mean the team management. The board. There’s been too much bad publicity in the media, too many rumors, too much speculation, too many wild stories and theories. Plus it doesn’t fucking help that you’re out there every night, partying it up, fucking girls left and right.”
I’m partying it up because I’m trying to move the fuck on. I’m fucking girls left and right because I’m trying to get over a certain girl who chose my brother over me. If anything, the fucking management should thank me for it. I’m doing everything I can to get into top form for the upcoming season. All of this is to get this goddamn ache, the fucking pain out of my system and to get my focus back.
She wouldn’t have helped you with your pain…
I clench my jaw to stop that voice—hervoice—flashing through my head. Then, “What I do in my personal time is none of their business.”
“It is if it scares the management,” Conrad retorts. “They’re afraid they might lose sponsors. But more than that, they’re afraid you might lose the fucking championship, and they won’t let that happen. Not after last year.”
My blood is roaring in my veins, howling like an animal as I say, “I’m not going to lose the championship game.”
“They don’t believe that,” he says. “No matter how hard I try to convince them, and believe me, I have. Really hard.”
“Try harder,” I growl.
“Shep—”
“No,” I bite out again. “I’m notfucking takinga break.”
“You need to get your head on straight, and you can’t do that when?—”
“I’ll do it,” I cut him off once again.
“You’ll do what?”
I unfold my arms, and it takes effort, given how tightly my muscles are clenched. Standing up straight, I declare, “Get my head on straight.”
“You—”
“I won’t party anymore. No girls. No bad publicity.”
Conrad doesn’t believe me. “No bad publicity.”
“No,” I vow, looking him in the eyes. “I’ll keep my head down. I’ll do whatever it takes, but I’m not leaving. This is my team. That’s my championship trophy and I’m bringing it home.”
And no one can stop me. Not the team management. Not my brother, the head fucking coach. Not the vultures of the media. Not even the girl who loves my twin brother instead of me.
Chapter Four
“Oh my God.”
“Wow.”
“You’re stunning.”
“I knew this dress was the right choice.”
These are four distinct voices and they belong to three of my very best friends and my sister Snow. Who are all camped out in the small bedroom of my apartment, helping me get ready for my date. Yes, I’m going on a date. It’s not the first one of my life, but it’s close enough and important enough that I needed to call in reinforcements. And I’m glad I did because I do look stunning, thanks to all the effort from my friends, who did my makeup. My green eyes appear smoky and my freckles somehow compliment my skin rather than make it look ugly. Not sure what Tempest—one of the friends present; she was the one who commented about the dress—put on my face but it’s amazing. My untamed hair doesn’t look all that bad either, shiny and bouncing with curls.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I pat my emerald dress. “You guys really think so?”
“What Snow said,” Meadow, another one of my best friends, says. “You’re freaking stunning.”
