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Cole steps into his space. “Or what? Did you know you play for a team of homos? Does your momma know that when you come home covered in—?”

“Piss off,” Emir snarls. His shoulders are wire-tight; his nostrils flare.

Michaelson and Shaggy slant forward, but Cole spreads his arms, keeping them back. He chuckles. “Oh, you’ve got a mouth on you.” His head cocks. “Bet you put it to good use, right?”

“What a lovely accent,” teases Michaelson.

Cole licks his teeth. “Yeah, he does. London boy?” He’s in front of Emir now. “Do you like playing with a team full of fairies?”

The skin around Emir’s eyes tightens. He lets out a long breath, but he doesn’t back down.

Sebastian’s heart is rabbiting. He could take Cole. Maybe the other two, also. They’re all talk, a St. Catherine’s trademark. He just needs to get close enough to—

Another door bangs open, from Bloomington’s locker room, and out marches Zach. He stops, sizing up the situation. Then, he grins wolfishly. “Well, St. Catherine’s School for the Poor and Shameless,” he says, and, in two strides, he’s between Cole and Emir. After a beat, Cole steps back.

Sebastian’s still wound up, ready to swing.

“Is this a pregame pep talk?” Zach asks. He slants his eyes at Cole. “You need some advice from our new star sweeper on how to tighten up your shitty defense?”

Cole scowls. “You’re going down, Keating.”

“Hmm, those fighting words or are you flirting?”

Cole’s hands ball into fists. Michaelson and Shaggy snarl behind him. Zach rocks on his heels while Cole turns red, huffing.

“For a school full of preppy assholes, you’re sure concerned with my team’s sex lives.” Zach’s posturing is at an all-time high. “Want in on the action?”

“You pack of faggots better—”

That’s it. It’s all Zach needs before he’s in Cole’s face, chest to chest, noses nearly touching. He growls, “Say it a little louder, dickhead.” His grin is leaning toward psychotic. “That’s right, some of my bros are gay or bi, and they can kick your ass blindfolded.”

Cole flinches while Michaelson and Shaggy blanch and lean away.

Zach says, “Next time you want to talk shit to my brothers, do it with confidence.” He points behind himself. “Shah and Hunter? They’re family, and I’ll whale on any of you prep pussies that messes with ’em, okay?”

Cole’s mouth is thin, trembling. He slowly steps backward. He signals to Michaelson and Shaggy with a jerk of his head; their grumbles are tinny in the corridor as they stomp off.

Zach turns around, eyes lit up. He’s still feasting on their cowardice. He is so menacing. “Douchebags.” He points his chin at Hunter and Emir. “Hey, next time you guys head out, let me know.”

“I could’ve handled them,” protests Emir.

Zach cuffs the back of Emir’s neck with a big hand and pulls him forward. “I know, Shah.” His grin twitches. “But I’ve been dying to deck one of those shitheads since I was a frosh. They called me a bastard because my mom left my dad. It got in my head, so I owe them.”

Sebastian’s mouth is dry. Zach just full-on opened up to someone other than Sebastian, to Emir, of all people. Zach never talks about his mom.

“Thanks, Keating.”

“Anytime, Shah.”

Zach drags Emir into a headlock. Emir playfully fights back, though Zach’s size overpowers him. Hunter joins them, jumping on Zach’s back. They all stumble into the locker room with a thud.

Sebastian sags against the wall. The concrete is cold against his ass. He pulls his knees to his chest. “Dude,” he says, quietly, “is this my life?”

No one answers, of course.

Sebastian’s heart finally slows to a lethargic thud, and he laughs. It’s one of those movie-villain-cackles, reverberating off the walls. Grey peeks her head out, but he doesn’t care. He’s just witnessed a freakingmiracle.

“Okay,” says Grey, slowly. “Game time in twenty.”