Foul Line: A High School Bully Romance (The Ballers of Rockport High Book 2)

by E. M. Moore

  The rest is a tangle of limbs as I gasp at the scene ahead of me. There were never fights at Broadwell. It sounds ridiculous to even say, but the rich boys and girls don’t fight with fists. They have other means. This expression of power and anger is new to me. Sure, I’ve wanted to pummel Lake—along with the rest of the guys—but this is beyond anything I’ve ever imagined myself doing. It’s like a pure display of testosterone and dick measuring that turns my stomach. Insults and crass curses fly in between the thuds of contact. The Ballers give as good as they get, which is almost shocking to me. The crowd in here is mostly middle-aged. We’re fucking teenagers for crying out loud.

  “Stop!” I yell.

  But it’s fruitless. No one’s listening. I step forward, my knees wobbling. A fist lands on Ryan’s brow, and his skin splits open. Sloan’s lip is bleeding. Alec, I can’t even see right now.

  My gaze searches the bar for Hayes. He’s propping Lake up, one arm slung over his shoulders. He looks completely out of it. His eyes are rolled back into his head, his head bobbing to the side. Hayes looks up and meets my eyes. “Get out of here,” he grits out.

  I move forward. I don’t know what to do next. Help Hayes with Lake, so he can help his other friends or try to talk some sense into these Neanderthals. All my life, it’s been basketball first. Nothing came between me and it, but it’s clear the Ballers maybe don’t have the same hang-ups I do.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Tessa,” Hayes says.

  My lips form a thin line. I walk up to Lake and put his hand over my shoulder to help Hayes carry him out. “I got him,” I tell Hayes. I silently plead with him to help Alec, Sloan, and Ryan.

  Lake’s head swivels around. His eyes are hooded, but he blinks when he sees me. Despite his drunken state, he somehow manages to pull away from me. “Get the fuck off me, Dale. I fucking hate you.”

  “Feeling’s mutual, prick.” I tug his arm back around my shoulder. “I’ve got him,” I tell Hayes. “Help the others.”

  Again, Lake must gather some sort of strength from somewhere. He can hardly keep himself upright, but he manages to push me. Because I’m not ready for it, I fall to the ground. My hip hits the wooden floor of the bar hard. “Get the fuck away from me, bitch,” Lake slurs. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.” He bends over to get in my face, but he trips over his feet and ends up falling. We’re too close for comfort, and he immediately backs away. “I loathe you.”

  Behind him, I see Sloan shove one of the guys he was tousling with to the ground. He looks up, his gaze meeting mine. Concern etches his features, a stark contrast to the streaks of blood over his face.

  In front of me, Lake falls to the ground. He’s passed the fuck out for good this time. I rise to my feet, ignoring the jab of pain from my hip, and pull at Lake’s wrists. I slide him across the floor. He didn’t want me to help him on his feet, so he can suffer through me dragging him to the car. I yank hard once, getting his body moving. Hayes assesses the situation and must think I have everything handled because he turns. The look in his eyes terrifies me.

  A quick check of the bar tells me the police have already been called. The bartender is standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he glares at the commotion in front of him. Maybe this is a typical Saturday for him. But what’s not typical is the fact that the Ballers are all underage with fake ID’s. If they get found out, they’re fucked. This thought spurs me on. I’d be just as happy leaving Lake there, but the Ballers won’t go without him. In order to get them to leave, I drag his ass out to the car. He grunts when I drag him over a large stone that was used to designate the parking area.

  Maybe I enjoy ruthlessness too because a sick smirk of satisfaction crosses my lips.

  “Get the fuck out,” someone yells. I look up as I round the corner of the building to find Alec stumbling out of the bar. Sloan and Ryan follow while Hayes stalks forward without a bruise or telltale sign of a fight on him. An overweight man with a scraggly mustache fills the door frame of the bar. “Don’t ever come back.”

  Sloan waves the middle finger behind his head, and I shake my head at his audacity. Is this what the Ballers do for fun? What the fuck is wrong with them?

  “Here,” Alec says, moving forward. He reaches around in his pocket and brings out a fob. He pushes a button down and the car I’m just about to pass beeps to life. This must be the car they borrowed to come here.

  I drop Lake’s hands. They fall freely to the ground and bounce once they hit the dirt of the parking lot. I can still see the venom in his eyes from the bar. The way he stared at me and said he hated me makes a shiver of fear skirt up my spine. To my knowledge, I’ve never done anything to incur someone’s hate like that.

  “We need to get the fuck out of here,” Ryan says, dragging his hands through his blond hair as he checks the road.

  I’m already walking toward my car. If they think I’m going to go down with them if they get caught, they have another thing coming. I haven’t worked so hard at camp for this.

  “I’ll drive Lake,” Ryan says. Alec and Sloan are already sliding him into the backseat of the borrowed car. If he’s as drunk as I think he is, there’s no way that car is getting out of this unscathed. The contents of Lake’s stomach will probably be all over the upholstery by the time they get back to camp. “You guys go with Tessa.”

  “Tessa’s leaving,” I snap back. “Now. So, if anyone wants a ride, they better get in the fucking car.”

  I whip the driver’s side door open and get in. The engine starts underneath me with a push of a button, and even though it sounds like it’s normal growly self, I kind of wish I had the power to make it sound angrier. I start backing out of the space. The passenger door opens and Sloan shouts, “Hey.”

  I slam on the brakes. “Get in the fucking car.”

  Sloan pushes the front seat forward and lunges for the backseat, Alec following him. The seat snaps back into position and Hayes gets in, his expression stoic. As soon as he shuts the door, I gun the engine. I whip the steering wheel to the left just as Ryan’s about to back up and catch in the dirt as I move around him. At the end of the parking lot, I squeal my tires as I leave the neon lights of the bar behind me. I’m seething on the way back. Sloan attempts to put his hands on my shoulder, but I shrug him off.

  “Aw, come on,” Sloan says. “You didn’t find any of that hot?”

  “Am I an animal?”

  He kneads my shoulders.

  “I mean it, Sloan. Get the fuck off me.”

  Hayes twists in his seat and sends Sloan a menacing look. Sloan immediately pulls his hands away.

  I nod toward the glove compartment. “There are probably napkins in there for the idiots in the backseat.”

  I close my eyes briefly at the thought of them getting blood all over my car. It would be one thing if they were injured through no fault of their own. If the guys in the bar just started beating them for no reason, I’d want blood myself. I probably would’ve thrown myself right in the middle of it, but what the hell were they doing there in the first place? Giving up their careers, obviously.

  I glance at Alec in the backseat. He catches my eye, and I shake my head at him. He could’ve thrown two careers out the window tonight. All he needs is a broken wrist. A broken hand. As soon as we get back from basketball camp, his pre-season baseball games start. The ones he won’t give up because he won’t give up the dream of playing basketball, but he’ll give it up by getting into a bar fight with a bunch of townies. That’s so smart.

  I thought these boys were as driven as me. Maybe I was wrong the whole time. They’re used to getting things thrown in their lap, so they’ll take all the risks they can get.

  “I see that look,” Sloan says. “Trust me, I don’t need anyone else looking at me with so much disappointment. I’ve seen and heard it all before.”

  I nibble on my lip. I know his parents are a sore subject, and no matter how much I want to tell him I wouldn’t have to look at him like t
hat if he didn’t do this one stupid thing, I imagine he’s heard it all before and then some. Keeping silent only makes me more furious though. Maybe I expected more out of these boys than they deserve.

  Headlights follow me all the way back to camp. When I pull into the same parking spot I vacated hours ago with Ryan, I feel like I can finally breathe. Hopefully the guys at the bar won’t be able to trace us back here. If we’re lucky—what am I saying. If they’re lucky—they kept their mouths shut about basketball while they were at the bar.

  The borrowed car pulls to a stop beside us. I turn the Mustang’s engine off and stand from the car. Ryan whisks his door open and the telltale noises of someone vomiting erupts from the car. I was right. Whoever they borrowed this car from is going to be so pissed, and rightfully so.

  “Give me a hand guys,” Ryan says. He shuts his own door and opens up the back. He pulls Lake out by the shoulders. His legs drop to the ground. He’s still vomiting. He’s shaking, too. His skin is pale white and there’s fierce red streaks over his cheeks.

  “Jesus,” I sigh. “What the hell’s wrong with him? How much did he drink?”

  Ryan glances up at me. His face is demure even though everything he’s feeling is hiding in his gray eyes. “It’s the alcohol mixed with the pills,” he says. He glares at the other Ballers. “I can’t believe you let him do this.”

  “Pills?”

  Everyone ignores me. Sloan and Alec fidget on their feet. Alec’s wadded up, blood-soaked napkin is pressed to his nose. The only one who looks on the scene impassively is Hayes. Ice Man strikes again. By the look of him, I have no idea what he’s thinking and feeling.

  “We were just trying to have some fun,” Sloan says. He sways a little. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from going off on him.

  Ryan doesn’t have that problem though. He discards Lake’s arms and spins on the Ballers. His face is snarling, and he looks every bit the point guard in that moment trying to rally them when there’s five seconds left on the clock, and they’re down by two. “You knew what would happen.”

  “He said it would be fine.”

  “Yeah, because he’s in the right fucking head space,” Ryan snaps back.

  “None of us are in the right fucking head space,” Alec growls.

  Sloan steps in, his hands raised in the air. I perk up, not expecting Sloan to play the peacemaker. “Everything was fine until those guys started with us.”

  “How’s that?” I can’t help myself from asking. “Did they bust you for underage drinking?”

  Sloan turns on me and for the first time tonight, I can tell he’s in pain. Suffering. Emotionally and physically. “No.” His words are clipped and hang in the air.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Ryan says. “Let’s get Lake into his bed.”

  Ryan takes Lake by the shoulders and Alec grabs his feet. They carry him, and I watch how lifeless his body is as they manhandle him through the shadows as we sneak down to the cabins. Thankfully, no one else is out tonight. Despite myself, and the harsh words he just spoke to me, a niggle of worry wiggles its way inside me. “Is he going to be okay?” I ask Hayes who’s still keeping close to me in his calm, cool way.

  Hayes glances down at me, his blue eyes calculating when he says, “The pills and alcohol don’t mix well.”

  “He said he wasn’t taking them,” Sloan says, his fingers curling around his own arms.

  I’m almost astonished that the guys are freely talking about this in front of me. “Pain pills?” I ask. I had no idea Lake was injured. If he is, he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it. We’re still equals in many ways on the court. It’s only in being a general good human being that I far surpass him.

  Hayes nods. Ryan’s back goes ramrod straight. There’s still a singular light on in the cabin Lake, River, and Ryan share. Luckily, they left Baby O’Brien at home for their little stunt at the bar. Probably only because he doesn’t have a fake ID even though I’d like to think they draw the line somewhere. The kid’s only like fifteen. He doesn’t need to be drinking and getting into bar fights. Though, I don’t think he should be holding girls down on a track either, but what the fuck do I know anymore?

  “Oxy,” Alec says.

  I almost choke. “Oxycodone?”

  I feel queasy. I feel like they’re trying to tell me something without telling me. None of them deny my question, so I take it that I’ve guessed correctly.

  “How long has he been taking them?” I ask. A memory erupts in my mind of Coach Bradley telling me there was something wrong with my drug test and Miss Lyons having to watch me pee in a cup. Did he do that?

  “On and off. For a while,” Ryan grits out.

  Ryan goes up the small porch first. Sloan runs ahead of him and opens the cabin door. “What the…?” River says. Then he’s right there, hovering over his brother as Alec and Ryan lay him on the bed. “Jesus. How much did he drink?”

  “A lot,” Ryan says, rubbing the back of his head. The guys all share looks. I watch from outside, and I get a sinking feeling that River doesn’t know Lake’s hooked on Oxy. He probably has no clue.

  I turn toward Hayes, the only other Baller who hasn’t entered the cabin. The door closes behind them as I say, “Answers, Hayes. I need them.”

  He shrugs like he hasn’t another care in the world, but the slight sideways glance he gives me only makes me think what comes out of his mouth next is a half-truth. “He’s hooked on painkillers. What more is there to know?”

  My eyes practically bulge out of my head. I point toward the cabin. “Is he going to be alright?” I’m not a doctor, but I also have heard tragic stories about people who mix the two.

  “He’s thrown up already, so that’s good. Ryan will stay with him tonight, and if he has to make him throw up again, he will.”

  I shake my head. “This is all kinds of fucked up.” Just the fact that he’s talking about this so nonchalantly makes an eerie shiver tip toe up my spine. It’s like they’ve been fighting with this for a while. “How can he even function normally? He’s addicted?” I ask again, needing him to make it plainly clear to me.

  Hayes turns toward me fully. He grabs my shoulder and leans over. His presence makes my heart skip a beat. I’m suddenly not so agitated anymore. My pulse screams through me as he licks his lips. “He’s off and on, but yes, he keeps going back, so I say addicted. Some of us would argue that point, but I’ve about had it with him, Tessa. I don’t want to talk about Lake.”

  There are shadows in his deep blue eyes. He tucks me into his side, and we walk the short distance to his, Alec, and Sloan’s cabin. He turns the lights on when we enter. I look him over now that we’re in the light. There’s only one speck of blood on his cheek. I go to the bathroom and get a washcloth. After wetting it in the bathroom sink, I come back out and wipe it away. Then, I pull his fists up and examine them one at a time. They don’t look cut at all.

  “I didn’t hit anybody,” he says.

  I twist my head. I’m almost surprised. “I just forcefully moved the guys so we could all leave.”

  “I wish the others would’ve been as smart as you.”

  The corner of his lip tugs up. “I don’t think anyone’s said that to me before.”

  “They must not know you.”

  His arms move around me. They work up my spine, then he drags his fingers down my back. I have to completely hold my neck back to look him in the eyes, but it isn’t awkward. I love that he’s a force that looms over me. I’ve needed him to be that way ever since the Ballers abandoned me. “I don’t care if no one else knows me. I just want you to.” His hand moves up and tangles in my hair. Carefully, he tugs until he leans over to kiss me. The air sucks from my lungs as his lips pass over mine in such a gentle way that belies everything about him. After several soft caresses, he pulls just a hair’s breadth away. “I’m sorry you had to see that tonight. It wasn’t one of our finer moments.”

  I cup his cheeks and bring him down again. To bridge the
distance quicker, I lift onto my tiptoes until we’re kissing again. This feels so right. Like two people comforting one another, not like two people sneaking around or two people kissing one another who know they shouldn’t. It makes me want to stay here.

  That is, until the door opens and a gust of wind accompanies Sloan and Alec as they walk in the room. “Don’t mind us,” Sloan says.

  “I won’t.”

  Hayes steps away from me, but I follow him. I pull on his collar, bringing him back to me again, finishing our kiss the right way. When we pull away this time, it’s not because we were interrupted. His left arm slides around me, tucking me into his side.

  Sloan moves forward, raising his chest height to Hayes. He waggles his eyebrows. “Come on. Knuckles.”

  Reluctantly, Hayes gives in and presses his knuckles into Sloan’s. He doesn’t seem very thrilled with his friends right now either, and I wonder if this is Sloan’s way of saying he’s sorry.

  Noticing the state the other two are in, I go back into the bathroom with my washcloth and come back out. Alec looks like he’s in worse shape, so I start with him. I remove the napkin from his nose. He’s swollen there, but the blood has stopped. I gently wipe the washcloth over his face, removing all traces of blood on him. Like with Hayes, I bring his hands up and inspect his knuckles. Unlike Hayes, his are all red and the skin is broken. I tsk and wipe away the dried blood. Alec winces. I don’t let that stop me. “If you behaved like a gentleman, I wouldn’t have to be doing this right now.”

  “It’s not me,” Alec says. “Talk to Sloan.”

  I turn, my gaze flicking down the length of him. He has a cut on his forehead and his knuckles were also cut and bleeding, though they’re dry now. I go into the bathroom and wet another washcloth. Alec enters after me and soon after, I hear the shower going.

  “What does that mean?” I ask Sloan.