Page 19 of Dirty Roulette

Chapter twelve

Ryder

“Hurry your asses up! Are none of you watching the clock?” Coach hollers and has us lined up for warm-up, and his whistle slices through the air.

Sweat trickles down my back, soaking into my jersey, as we break out into a jog.

I smoke everyone. The thickset linemen and linebackers struggle to keep up with my pace racing across the field.

My best time running a mile was a little over four minutes, while it took everyone else at least six.

We go through the routine I’ve had drilled into my head for the past three years straight.

Linemen hit the sled. Coach is at their throats, already grilling into them. “Be physical! Don’t have me tell you twice!” Metal scrapes against the turf with angry grunts. “Use your hands!”

I run a few plays. The wide receivers stretch out on the sidelines, preparing to sprint down the field.

“You better hold on to the ball, or you won’t be carrying it!

” He spits, pointing a finger at me out on the sidelines.

I take my position, my cleats digging into the turf as I scan the opposition.

I’m ready. The snap comes and I sprint forward, weaving through the defense, and my eyes are on the ball like it’s my wife.

When it’s handed off, I’m injected with a rush of adrenaline, running the ball through the gaps until I reach the end zone.

After several plays, Coach calls for a break. I jog to the sidelines, pulling off my helmet and snagging a cold bottle of water from the ice chest. Popping the cap, I swallow the contents in two gulps before I chuck it into the overflowing trash bin infested with bees.

Brody brags to the offensive linemen. One of them is Samoan, a mountain of a man. We call him Bustling Tito. He’s scary with his feet stomping and growling at anyone with the football; but when handed a box of cinnamon rolls, he’ll cry and frolic with butterflies.

Another is Officer Farva. He’s right out of the Super Troopers movie.

If he put on a pair of sunglasses, he’d look like an officer riding on a Segway.

I can’t take him seriously with his high-pitched voice.

I have a hunch his voice never fully cracked in middle school.

The funny thing is his drug of choice – a liter of cola – and he’s notorious for getting us in strange predicaments at burger joints.

I’m half listening to Farva’s raunchy recap about the party on Friday.

Jared and Nick sit adjacent to me, hunched over on the benches drinking water and sweating it back out.

I guess Farva was one of the first guys to lose Roulette and has no filter about how slutty this girl was.

Chicks, booze, and football are the only words in the team's vocabulary.

“Hey Crab...” Brody dumps the remains of his water bottle over his sweaty hair and shakes his head like a dog.

“Care to explain why Trash crashed into the locker room?” he asks, tossing the empty bottle in the trash.

I glower at the nickname, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

To my surprise, he doesn’t have a black eye from how Payton was going to town on him with her kicks and punches.

“Yeah,” Farva repeats behind him, rubbing his palms together and licking his lips. “This is gonna be good.”

“Shut up, Farva.” Brody snaps at him.

I rest my arms over my legs, leaning over.

"Depends...” I swallow down the boulder stuck in my throat.

“Do you care to explain why you screwed my girlfriend?” A cold chill runs down my back.

Heat licks my skin, and my limbs vibrate.

“Or explain why I didn't get the invite to the damn party?” I run my teeth over my bottom lip.

“Look, Brittni had been hounding me for months. Something about you always cheating on her.”

“Right.” I scoff, staring hard at the turf below my cleats. My white gloves stretch and tighten around my clammy hands as I clench them into fists. “So you cheat on my sister and steal my girlfriend. Then you try to sleep with Payt... You’re a great person.”

“Let’s not go there.” Jared slaps the back of his hand against my chest, and his mouth folds into a grim line, his jaw tense. I throw myself off the bench with the onslaught of my heart pounding.

Nick licks his lips and gets up, fuming and throwing his hands down. “Man, if you two don’t settle your shit, not a single team will wanna touch us. None of us will get drafted.” He paces back and forth, with sweat skating down the side of his face. “Damn, bro...”

“Not my fault his sister and her trashy friend wanted to play,” Brody laughs through his nose. “You should be thanking me. You get a tight-ass virgin.”

“If he doesn’t want her, I’ll take her.” Farva pants like a dog but doubles over when Brody knocks an elbow into his stomach.

Jared brushes the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “Wait, what happened?” He turns to me with the question.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? The Crab here barged in and the bottle landed on him. He wants to sleep with Trash.” The wry smile creeping on Brody’s face sparks electricity to fire through my spine and into my fists.

Jared’s mouth gapes open as he says her name. “Payton?”

“Why are you doing this to her? She’s a virgin. She should be able to stay that way if she wants!” I lash out.

“Don’t tell me you have feelings for her?” Brody raises his brow.

Jared and Nick must have a sixth sense because the second I step forward, they grasp my shoulders on cue.

All it takes is one fist fight and the Conduct Board will take his side.

Board members will stretch their legs across that maple desk, lace fingers behind their heads, and soak up whatever white lie Brody scrounges up to cover his ass.

“You really want to fight me?” Brody runs a hand through his slick hair.

“Go ahead, take your best shot.” He holds out his arms and takes a few steps back with his amused expression.

With Coach on the other side of the field, I refrain myself.

“Maybe this one won’t get bored with you.

” The group of linemen are like brainless sheep as they stand up and their shadows hover over me.

Even Bustling Tito crosses his arms, and I’m out numbered.

“But if you don’t want to sleep with her, someone on the team will, and after today I’m not letting it slide.

I want a video of you nailing her,” he says.

“That video of Trailer Girl was dope!” One of the linemen held up his hand, and they high-five. “Can’t wait to see that one posted.”

“You’re not posting shit about Payt on that website!” I stomp up to Brody and shove him in the shoulder pads, nearly knocking him off his feet. Tension in the air grows thick. “Let her off the hook!”

“What?” Brody laughs, both of his eyebrows lifting. He steps closer, his chest pressing against mine with an expressionless face. “I can post whatever I want.” I’ve been tackled plenty of times before. He doesn’t phase me.

My blood boils and I can’t stand here and take it.

I slug at him, my knuckles shattering as I land a punch to his face.

The next thing I remember is a sharp pain in my stomach and I double over.

Someone grabs me by the jersey and tosses me to the ground.

Everything goes black as I eat dirt, and the taste of iron finds my tongue.

There's nothing I can do. I can’t fist-fight my way out of it, or stop Brody.

He can post whatever he wants because he made the website.

Any sore loser with a bruised ego can put the girl dumping them on blast. People all over the campus call out “the sluts”.

Girls’ social media profiles and numbers are linked for anyone to click on.

We all know who’s easy to get with, the screamers, the flexible girls who like hair pulling, and it’s clickbait who caught chlamydia last weekend. We know who cheated on who.

There are no threads with Payton mentioned as I checked before practice, but the second they put her nudes up, she’ll spiral. And out of all the girls in the universe, I know she doesn’t deserve it.

Someone wraps a fist around my hair, pulling me off the ground. I go in and out of blackout spells. “It came out of your mouth that you wouldn’t do this to my sister,” I say, and a sharp pain thrashes against my cheek.

“But she isn’t your sister, now is she?” Brody asks.

No, she’s not. He’s caught me there, but I stumbled out of the bedroom every weekend to see Payton inches away and never thought about laying a finger on her.

Sleepovers, and her invading the house lodges in the back of my mind.

She was always like a little sister but in the past seventy-two hours, the way I see her switched gears.

Brody’s fists twist around my jersey, pulling my face inches from him.“She decided to play the game, and you’re not sweet-talking me out of it!” He throws me to the ground and another foot rams into my stomach.

“You said you wouldn’t do this to them!”

“I’m not going to delete those damn pictures of that piece of trash!” Brody spits in my face. He twisted his fist in my hair, leaning in. “Ask me one more time, and you won’t be breathing.” He punches me in the face again. “Now are we good, Crab?!”

“Break it up!” Coach hollers. He pushes the team aside as Jared and Nick lift me up by the arms and help me steady myself. “Both of you, my office. Now!”