by S. Massery
Ruby side-eyes me.
“What?” I snap.
She still hasn’t said anything about her lie. At this rate, I can’t expect her to, but… I guess I thought we were going to be friends. Not torn apart by this secret. She’s being pulled into another world, and I’m just going to be left behind.
Again, a little voice in the back of my head reminds me. Amelie left me, too. My parents. Hell, even my grandparents opted to give me back and move away. The only home I knew until I was seventeen was sold out from under my feet, and they didn’t give me a say.
“Want a beer?” the guy asks, first Ruby, and then me.
She hesitates, but I nod. After a moment, she agrees, too.
“Coming right up. Come on, Felicity.”
The two of them slide past us and back into the aisle, hurrying away. We’re early, so the teams aren’t out. There’s just the rustling murmurs of the growing crowd. The stadium is bigger than I would’ve guessed. There are two sections of seating that wrap all the way around, an upper and lower. Above the two long sides of the field are enclosed rooms overlooking everything. Press boxes, owners’ boxes. Who knows.
There are more photographers on the field, milling around. That’s where I want to be—in the action. Leaping to avoid oncoming players like you often see in the professional games, so close you’re practically hit with their sweat. Well, I’ve seen photos and clips… I can’t say I’ve ever watched a full game.
“Have you been to a college game before?” Miranda asks, leaning over Ruby to direct her question at me.
I shake my head. “Just high school.”
She smirks. “Well, prepare for a treat.”
It isn’t long before the guy and Felicity return, and suddenly a horn sounds. Music follows, inciting the crowd. I grip my plastic cup of beer and rise with everyone around me. A marching band comes out, streaming onto the field from all different directions. They circle around each other in the center of the field.
“Is this typical?” I yell at Ruby.
She laughs.
We yell along with everyone else until the band suddenly splits into two groups, and a hush falls over the field. Then the drums. My heartbeat picks up, suddenly pounding in time to the booming drumline. Spectacle.
The coaches appear first, stopping just under the overhang. We all crane our necks, trying to see our team. Their navy-blue helmets glint under the lights, and every single one of the players bounces up and down. Their chanting floats over the stadium. I’m too tense to even grab my camera—it sits forgotten beside me.
The rest is a blur: the teams warming up in front of the stands, the cheerleaders shaking their pom-poms, the whole stadium stomping in time to the songs playing over the speakers. I sip my drink, and my face warms. The last time I drank, I killed someone.
His face flashes in front of my eyes again. I haven’t had nightmares about it, surprisingly. It’s like getting out of town banished those demons. But… now they’re returning in bits and pieces.
The game begins, and I fumble with my camera. The settings, the lighting… I wing it, taking just a few test shots before finding Theo’s jersey number, his last name across his shoulder blades. He’s sitting on the bench beside Hale Devereux.
“Do you know what’s happening?” I ask Ruby.
She grunts. “Too much, unfortunately.”
The rest of the game goes like this: I watch and take photos, and whenever the crowd gives a shout—either our side or the section for the visiting team—I lean my head toward Ruby, and she translates what just happened.
Half time, Felicity and Miranda disappear to get all of us popcorn. There isn’t a big show or anything, just some peace before the cheerleaders perform, and the players rush back out to the field.
They restart, and I lose focus.
Honestly? I’m bored. I’ve lost track of Theo unless he’s sitting in front of me, but he hasn’t so much as glanced back. Not that I could tell, anyway. I peek at my phone and miss the next part.
The most crucial part.
A sickening crunch silences the crowd.
My head shoots up, trying to find Theo. He was on the field, I thought, since he’s not on the sidelines. But I can’t find him in the players who are still standing. There are a few on the ground, one flat on his back, the other at an angle.
Theo. My heart lurches.
“Shit,” Ruby says. “Shit, that’s—”
Without thinking, I lunge forward and spring over the wall separating our seats from the field. No one notices an additional person joining the madness, the rush for help. With my LBU sweatshirt, I even blend in.
Ruby and Felicity yell for me to come back, but I ignore them.
Theo was in the middle of that. And then the way everyone backed off…
My throat closes up, and I dodge a few players, ignoring everything in my attempt to get to Theo. I shouldn’t care this much. He’s probably fine.
Some players have circled around the fallen ones, creating a blockade of sorts. I duck under one’s arm and freeze.
Theo is sitting up, his head in his hands. His helmet is by his feet.
The other player lies flat on his back. His right leg is at an awkward angle, unnaturally skewed.
I push that image away, and the subsequent one of the DeSantis man that follows. The wet squish of the back of his head under my fingertips. How heavy he was to drag into the foliage. I shove those down as far as I can and jolt when someone grabs my arm.
“You shouldn’t be on the field,” someone admonishes.
“Fuck off,” I say.
Theo’s head snaps up. “Let her go.”
His teammate obeys, and I rush to him. I drop to my knees, gripping his chin and moving his head around. He just grimaces but lets me check him over. Not that I know anything about medicine or injuries. But he’s not bleeding, and nothing looks… broken.
“You’re okay?” I ask.
He nods once. “Maybe a concussion,” he allows. His gaze goes to the other player. “Sebastian kicked my helmet, I think.”
My mouth drops open, but he shoots me a warning glare.
“Get off the field, Lux.” He taps my chin, closing my mouth.
I slowly stagger to my feet and shove away. I can’t believe I’m obeying him so easily, without even putting up a fight. No one even stops me from going back to the wall, and I propel myself up and over, back into the stands.
“What the fuck was that?” Felicity demands. “You can’t just—”
“I had to see if Theo was hurt.” The rest of the words clog in my throat.
I can’t tell them about Sebastian’s leg, or the fact that he’s unconscious. An ambulance siren breaks through, and a moment later paramedics rush toward the huddled LBU players, a stretcher wheeled between them.
We wait. Everyone waits.
Sebastian is rolled away on the stretcher, and the coach escorts Theo off the field. He’s not walking all right—he sways a bit, his arm over the coach’s shoulders. His helmet dangles from his fingers.
I can’t stay here.
“Lucy—” Ruby tries to grab me.
I brush her off and jog away. Up the stairs, back down the wide hallway to the student entrance. It’s deserted now, everyone focused on the field. Who even gives a shit about the stupid game.
The ambulance zooms past as I’m stepping outside. I circle the stadium until I find the players’ entrance. It’s a lot less grand, only marked by a painted sign and the buses waiting to take the visiting team home. I pull on the door, surprised when it opens without resistance. I expected it to be locked to keep the crazy fans out.
The hallway is dark, and I creep forward. A plaque hangs at a split-off, directing the visiting team to the left. That hallway is lit, and probably wraps all the way around to be closer to their side of the field. It isn’t long before I come upon the coach’s office, then a conference room large enough to seat the whole team, and finally, the locker room.
I pr
ess my ear to the door and hear murmuring, so I draw back. I’m not even sure why I’m here. Theo himself said he was fine, but I don’t believe it.
“Give her a minute,” Theo says loudly, his voice clear as day through the door.
Someone laughs. “She doesn’t know where you are.”
I tilt my head. Are they discussing me?
“She can figure it out.”
They lapse back into silence, and I contemplate it. If he didn’t mean me, then going in could be bad. But… I could always talk my way out of it. I take a step back. I shouldn’t burst in there.
“Not so fast, Page,” someone whispers behind me. Their arm wraps around my waist, and a hand covers my mouth. They lift me clear off my feet and carry me forward, into the locker room.
I kick at my captor, struggling like mad. We get into the room, and I lock eyes with Theo. His eyebrows are raised, but he doesn’t stand from his seat on one of the benches.
My heel connects with a shin, and I bite down on a finger. The taste is disgusting—bitter sweat and copper—and they yell. Their hand rips away from my mouth. Blood lingers on my tongue, and they drop me. Unprepared, my feet hit the floor and I jump to the side, finally seeing who manhandled me.
Liam Morrison.
Theo’s best friend.
I glare at him. Liam and I have never quite seen eye to eye. Maybe it was that he was caught in my pranks against Theo one too many times… Or maybe he’s just a dick. Jury’s still out on that one.
“What the fuck?” Theo drawls.
“She was loitering.” Liam shrugs. “You said to watch her.”
“Ridiculous,” I say under my breath. I’m trying not to think about the fact that this is just another way of Theo exerting control. “You had your lackey stalk me.”
“And look—you burst onto the field the moment something happened.”
“Happened?” I parrot. “Shut up. That’s more than just happened. His leg was broken…”
Theo rises and crosses the room, stopping just in front of me. He doesn’t touch me, although this is another one of those times where I might just die if he doesn’t. I can’t begin to dissect my worry—and my subsequent relief. The shock of it.
“Did you see how it happened?” he asks me.
I shake my head.
“Tell her.” He lifts his gaze over my shoulder, to his friend. “You saw it.”
“Sebastian kicked your head, and your head won,” Liam says. “It isn’t a surprise you’re fucking hardheaded, but in the literal sense.”
“Oh my god.” He’s not even bruised. No visible damage, although his head… “How are you standing?”
A door bangs open, and Theo gestures to Liam. Without a word, Liam draws me down to the bathroom stalls, shoving me into one. “Stand on the toilet and keep silent.” He closes the door, and I lock it behind him.
The nerve. But also… I’m intrigued.
“What the fuck, Alistair?” someone yells. Not Theo, obviously, and probably not the silent teammate who loomed behind him. Definitely not Liam. Someone new.
“Calm down, son.” An older man—the coach, maybe? One of the coaches? I’m pretty sure college teams have more than one.
“Don’t tell me to calm down. He just snapped my best friend’s leg—”
I cover my mouth with my hand and lean forward, trying to see through the crack in the stall door. It’s at least two inches wide, but whoever it is stands out of sight.
Just as well.
“It was an accident,” the coach says. “Hale. You can’t make accusations—”
“Like fuck I can’t,” Ruby’s brother snarls. “Try me, old man. I was there. The ball fucking snapped to Sebastian, and then…”
“Chaos,” Theo says. “You think I don’t know that? But Sebastian was out of control.”
Something screeches—a locker squealing as something hits it, the metal protesting the weight—and then a grunt.
“Don’t touch me,” Theo warns.
“What did you do?” Hale yells. “Turn the team against me?”
“For the love of God, calm the fuck down.” The coach is trying to rein in Hale Devereux, but it isn’t working. Even from here, with my limited view, I can tell the guy is about to take a long walk off a short pier. “Just sit down. Jack, let him go.”
Theo’s silent lackey, then. More than just someone looking after him…
“Sebastian probably wants his bag,” Theo says suddenly.
I lean even more forward, pressing my hands to the chipped paint of the stall’s walls. I’m going to fall through the door at this rate, but I need to see what comes next. This is Theo’s plan, pieces of it clicking into place. The accident…
It might not have been an accident.
And yet, Hale seems to be the only one convinced of that.
I allow myself to smile.
The coach goes to Sebastian’s locker, yanking the bag out. I can see it now, the coach in his dark-blue pullover, the white-and-blue bag. In slow motion, it catches on the edge of the locker and rips open.
An exasperated noise escapes the coach’s mouth, and then something comes out. A small glass bottle. It rolls right between his feet, stopping at Hale’s.
“What’s that?” Theo asks.
Hale flinches, then stoops and lifts the bottle. “This is a mistake,” he says slowly. “Coach—”
“Give it.”
There’s a flurry of motion, their coach and Hale and Theo’s silent backup. Only Theo and Liam don’t move. And me. I’m stuck, frozen with my heart pounding. I can’t even breathe. The coach takes the bottle and stares down at it, then goes to the bag. He digs through it and pulls out… syringes.
Uh oh.
“Hale, return to the field. You, too, Jack.”
“Sir, Sebastian would never…” Hale trails off.
“He’s been off,” Jack says. “You said so yourself.”
The coach pauses, then nods. He replaces everything in Sebastian’s bag, including the bottle. “Everyone out. We’re in the middle of a game. Fuck.”
He goes in the opposite direction, the door to the hallway banging against the wall, and he returns just a few moments later. Jack and Hale are still standing there.
“Move your asses,” the coach barks. “You. You’re not one of my players.”
I flinch, for a split second thinking he’s caught me. But then Liam says, “Just here to take Theo home, sir.”
“So be it. Check in with the doctor on your way out, Alistair. I want a full report on my desk before the game is over.”
And then… we’re alone again.
Theo moves toward the stalls. My door rattles, the flimsy lock barely holding it together, and he sighs. “Open up.”
I hop down from the toilet seat and slide the bolt. He pushes the door open slowly, and I meet his gaze. He seems… smug. Meanwhile I’m lost, unsure of what the hell just happened. The bottle, Hale’s anger, Theo’s… Theoness. None of it makes sense, except I came down here because I was worried.
“Are you going to explain it?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He straightens. “If I do, you’re an accomplice.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s if you get caught, and if I get dragged into it. I know you.”
I know you. I thought I did, anyway. I would’ve wagered anything—until he let these two weeks pass without a fight. Until I had to steal his car to get a response from him.
“Lux.” He reaches out and cups my cheek. “Do you really want to know?”
I scowl. “I’m dark. I can handle whatever you’ve done.”
I don’t even point out that I’m still here, even after he burned that body. Even after everything—the torment of being near him but not, and him almost drowning me. In a way, that seems like a fitting way to go, the opposite of how he destroyed the one who tried to hurt me.
He sighs and lifts his gaze to Liam. “Lux will drive me home.”
Liam narrows his eyes—not at his friend, but
at me. Still, his words are directed at Theo. “I’ve seen her drive. You sure about that?”
“I drive perfectly well.” I fold my arms over my stomach. “When I’m not fleeing a crime scene.”
Theo purses his lips and grabs his own bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He wraps his free arm around my shoulders, cinching me to his side.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re helping me balance.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. He smells of sweat and sandalwood, and I have the unruly instinct to put my arm around his waist. I don’t, though. I keep them locked across my front so I don’t do anything stupid. But I don’t resist the way his fingers bite into my skin, or the weight he leans on me.
We navigate the hallways and outside, toward his car. It’s in perfect shape, as I expected. No one would’ve harmed his baby at the conservation parking lot. Or in general, I suspect.
It isn’t until we’re inside—me at the wheel and Theo taking up space in the passenger seat—that he finally speaks.
“Steroids,” he says.
I glance at him. “He’s on them?”
“He just started.”
“They don’t really work like that…”
He shrugs. I start the car and zoom out of the lot. His car handles nicely, even if I’m rough on it. And being an aggressive driver is easily my favorite way to annoy Theo. The car catapults onto the road, and we’re both shifted back by the force of my acceleration.
“Come on, I’m dying of curiosity.”
“And I’m going to die in this car.” His voice is strangled.
I glance over at him. He’s pressed back into the seat, his face pale. Concussion notwithstanding, he seems… afraid—and annoyed. Maybe at himself, or at me, I can’t tell. This is the first time he’s been my passenger. Usually my aggressive driving annoys him from afar.
“I won’t kill anyone,” I say. “That accident was one in a million.”
“You can’t account for everyone else. Slow down, Lux.”
I shake my head. We’re flying through twisting streets packed with parked cars on both sides, when all I want is to hit the open road. “I won’t.”
“Goddamn it.” Theo closes his eyes.
“You are afraid.” I keep glancing at him, and that’s the dangerous part. He’s a magnet for my eyes, when I should be paying attention to the road. “Just admit that you don’t like to give up control, and this situation is driving you insane.”