A bitter laugh reaches my ears followed by a whimper and an oomph. Hit by a sense of dread, I jog toward the noises and stopdead at the sight of four of my teammates surrounding Spencer. Two are on the ground, Greg in a fetal position holding his groin and Stan his leg. Spencer has blood near his mouth, and his shirt looks wrinkled at the collar under his open jacket. He’s standing with his back to the wall and his fists high. His eyes are cold and filled with anger.
Damn, he looks tough as nails and sexy.
“Stay out of our locker room and away from us, you piece of disgusting shit!” Josh is threatening him, getting closer, with Nolan doing the same on the other side.
“I got the message when you jumped me, four against one.” Spencer spits near Josh’s sneakers, smiling like a loon. “By the way, you couldn’t be more clichéd and your point more trite.”
“What the fuck is going on?” My body finally decides to work again.
“Clearing the air, TJ,” Nolan answers.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap at him. My teammates should be my family, but some of them, just like my biological ones, are pricks.
“He started it by disrespecting the locker room,” Josh barks.
That’s bullshit! If they caught me in the shower with a girl, they’d have given me a pat on the shoulder and left us alone. But it was a guy, and since they are too afraid to come at me—I’m built like a tank and the son of Taylor Moore—they went for Spencer.
“I didn’t start it. But I’m happy to show you how I finish homophobic motherfuckers like you.” Spencer sounds almost excited at the prospect. “A hint? Look at your friends moaning on the ground.”
Josh and Nolan are about to attack him when a tall wave of protectiveness washes over me, and I growl, “Get the fuck away from him!” This is not right. Spencer has only helped me.
“You’re defending…him?” Nolan spits out.
I clench my fists. We are supposed to always have each other’s backs, something they didn’t do during practice today, tackling me to the ground more times than I can count—their way of letting me know what they thought about the shower incident.
We have out-and-proud players on the team, and apart from some unhappy faces, there’s no problem usually. I’m still figuring things out. I’ve only ever been with girls, but what happened with Spencer tells me another story. It’s fucking private, anyway, and no one’s business but mine.
“After the way you acted on the field today, you guys expectmeto defendyou?” I growl.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Josh tries to look ignorant.
I scoff at that. “If Coach Morgan gets a whiff of this, you’ll all be benched. Is that what you want? It’s five months to the draft.”
Nolan grits his teeth and shakes his head, taking a couple of steps back. Josh does the same, but then he suddenly utters, “Fuck it!” and punches Spencer in the face.
I drop my backpack and grab Nolan’s arms, pulling him back so that he won’t go and help Josh. I’m much bigger than him, so it’s no hardship to hold him.
I turn my head toward Spencer in time to see him elbowing Josh in the face, then kneeing him in the gut, and, finally, backhanding him across the jaw so hard he drops to the ground.He wipes away the blood from the corner of his lips and crouches down near a whimpering Josh, his booted foot moves on top of his hand.
“No!” Josh cries out when Spencer’s sole presses harder. Nolan jerks his body, trying to make me release him, but I tighten my hold. I’ll stop Spencer myself if he overdoes it.
“I’m no snitch,” Spencer says in a colloquial tone, checking the chipped black nail polish on his nails. “But since I’m dealing with cowards and snakes, look up and smile at the security camera.”
He waves at the one mounted over the café’s back door. Fuck, they are big ass idiots!
Nolan groans incredulously in front of me. “You said this was the best place to rough him up, Josh!”
Josh replies with a groan filled with anger and pain.
“Try pinning anything on me, and I’ll show everybody what disgusting pieces of shit you jocks are,comprende?” Spencer presses more weight on Josh’s hand, making him scream a loud “yes.” He then stands up and takes a step back. Looking at Nolan and the other two guys on the ground, he adds, “Come at me again, and I’ll end your football careers.”
I get only a scathing glance before Spencer grabs his messenger bag from the ground and walks away without looking back.
I let go of a cussing Nolan, and after picking up my backpack, I jog after Spencer.
“That was…” I blow out a breath. “Are you okay?” I ask him.
“Fuck off,” he replies. He’s still limping slightly. I see him bend down to retrieve his bike, and I move closer, intent on helping him. He stops me.
