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“He’ll certainly have a lot of fodder to take these guys out.”
“Turn it off,” I tell her, disgusted. I’m sure his coach is concerned for West, but these news reporters are making this a big deal when it really isn’t. “If no one pays attention to it, it’ll cut Hamilton off at the knees.”
“You think?” Sydney asks, frown lines etched into her usually placid face.
“I’m sure of it. If no one cares, they’ll stop playing it.”
“I hope you’re right. For West’s sake. I can’t imagine having my parents on TV telling everyone what a fuckup I am.”
My stomach seizes. West is going to take this hard, even though he shouldn’t. His father doesn’t deserve him, that much is obvious.
But the rest of this nonsense? It’ll all blow over in a day. A half a day, even. No one on campus is going to actually believe any of this.
“I wonder what Warner will do to retaliate?”
My shoulders stiffen.Retaliate. That’s exactly what Hamilton did when I got caught in the crossfire. They retaliated to something Warner did, and at this state in the rivalry, they probably don’t even know who started it first.
“Hopefully nothing,” I murmur as I walk from the room. My head is a jumbled mess of thoughts. I grab my phone to see if West has texted yet, and he hasn’t. Not surprising since he only left a few minutes ago, but I’m worried about him.
The anger I understand, but this will most likely hit him someplace deeper, too. Even with a strained relationship, don’t we all want our parents’ approval? I can’t imagine if my parents had taken the opposite side when I’d been injured. What if they were on the news talking shit about me instead of going on the offense and ridiculing the actions of others?
I take a seat on my bed and stare up at David Boudia. He can’t help me with this, though. He’s an inanimate object. Sure, one I’ve gained strength from countless times, but this isn’t diving related and staring at him isn’t giving me as much pleasure as it used to.
Getting to my feet, I stretch up on my toes and unpin him from the wall. I roll the poster up, put a hair tie around him, and stick him in the closet.
Sydney sticks her head in, her gaze immediately going to the bare wall. She turns toward me. “Let me guess, it weirded West out?”
“Well, he certainly wasn’t intimidated by him.” I laugh. “But I think he said David was looking at him accusingly.”
Sydney lifts her brows. “He was probably trying to get a peek at that massive dick,” she singsongs. “Is it too soon to ask—”
“Yes,” I interrupt, my cheeks heating at the reminder of our time together last night. How sad that our moment of bliss lasted less than twenty-four hours. I almost asked him if he wanted to ditch classes altogether today, but that’s my neediness talking. There was no way he was going to skip practice, and now this.
“You’re so selfish,” she teases.
“Get your own dick.” I grab my bag and meet her at the door. It’s class time for both of us, so we need to get going. “How about Aidan? Or one of your other admirers? I’m sure once you kill it during halftime, you’ll have guys lined up.”
“Aidan’s nice, but he’s kind of young, you know? I’ll be like a cougar or something. Plus, I’m graduating at the end of the year.”
I turn toward her, puzzled. “But if it’s just a fling?” I shrug, watching to see her response.
“Right,” she says, smiling. It looks a little forced.
A little like she might regret it if it was just a fling.
Me too, girl. Me too.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
West
My mind whirs.Everything I saw this morning turns over and over in my head on a highlight reel of things your family should never do. We might as well sign ourselves up for most fucked-up household on the planet.
I go through the motions at practice, anger pulsating through me at every turn. I always knew my father was a jackass, but this is a new low.
Coach’s words from before practice stay perched on my shoulder like the heaviest barbell that I can’t quite seem to lift off the ground.
It might go national, son. If ESPN picks it up…