Page 24 of Play Dirty (Villalargos University #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Nico

T he smell of cologne and grass fills the hot locker room as I walk in. Thiago looks down at his phone, no one says a word as I head down to my locker.

“Man lucky son of bitch, first virgin June and then the best friend. Might as well fuck the holy trinity?” Brad says as he leans into Wes or Weasly how I like to call him. I flare my nose clutching my bag as I stalk towards him.

Ezra's hands move to stop me, “did you not see the Pulse?”

The Pulse?

Remembering I placed my phone on DND after the night at the studio, I pulled it out of my gym bag and my stomach sank so far up my ass. I might actually shit myself.

The Pulse Blog

Brad lets out a long whistle, shaking his head as if I’m the coolest man on this earth, fucking pig.

I smack Ezra’s hand away and head to my locker, slamming it open and throwing my bag inside.

The image of us so close, inches away from crossing that imaginary line I placed after that night, circulating around campus. Fuck.

Everyone else pretends like they aren’t looking at me. Judging me. Believing that I’m actually fucking Shiloh. What’s next? Accusing us of killing June so we can finally be together? Sitting on the cold bench, I step out of my sneakers and put on cleats.

Thiago, who is doing the same two benches away from me, asks. “You good?”

“No,” I mutter, finishing up my laces before yanking off my band shirt. “Not even remotely.”

Zayden walks past him and plops beside me, offering me a bottle of water. “Coach isn’t too happy. The Pulse news got to him, too.”

“Of course it did,” I mutter. “Just in time for game week.”

The boys hum in agreement.

And all I can think about is how something so private, raw, and beautiful is once again ruined by the rot of this place. “Getting any closer to figuring out who the fuck is behind The Pulse?”

Thiago frowns. “No, but my tech guy thinks it’s someone close enough to know everything that happens.”

“That makes sense, but who?”

Zayden yawns into his hand. “What if it’s this asshole and he’s just playing you?”

Not this shit again. I’m not in the mood to watch them sword fight to see who has the bigger cock.

They just need to admit they want each other.

It’s 2025, it’s fucking okay to be gay. And fuck whoever disagrees.

I finish getting ready as they continue to argue amongst themselves.

My attention goes back to last night, to Shiloh.

I swear… I can still smell her.

But the memory is ruined as Beavis and Butthead, aka Brad and Wes, walk past us. “You should really keep your tongue in your mouth, Reyes. Might end up biting it off one of these days. ”

My hands fist at my sides, but instead of smashing his head in like I want to, I slam shut my locker and jog outside.

By the time we reach the grass, Coach Jensen is already barking orders. He’s definitely pissed. I’m pretty sure I know why. Shiloh isn’t meant for a guy like me; she’s like royalty, while I’m the bottom of the barrel. Everyone in this place knows it, but Velarium screams it.

“Move like your life depends on it!” He shouts, smacking his hand against the wooden clipboard. “Because as of right now, your scholarships sure as hell do.”

I roll my eyes at his words, as if we didn’t give enough already for this fucking scholarship. We break into drills. I try to focus on the ball, on my breath, on not passing out from the heat, or the way the adrenaline hasn’t left my body since last night.

Zayden sends a clean pass my way, catching it with the inside of my foot, I pivot it, and then launch it towards the goal.

Wide and not even fucking close.

“Focus, Reyes!” Jensen yells. “You want to play, show me why I should let you.”

I grit my teeth, run my hand over my face, and sweat beads begin to form around my temples and slowly run down the length of my back. The sun is brutal, not warm but sharp as it cuts through the early fall chill and lands straight into my shoulder blades.

I focus on the smell of wet grass and sweat as I try to block out the buzz in my head. The picture. The feelings that shouldn’t exist but fester inside me like maggots in a wound. Her.

“Split into offense and defense.” Jensen barks. “Show me some real hustle today.”

I jog to my position, shoulder-checking Brad as I do.

Just because I wanted to— a small reminder of who I am and who I’ve always been on the field.

Thiago is already lacing through the cones, steady and focused.

I match his breathing like we’ve done plenty of times before.

I let muscle memory take over, and once the coach tosses the ball—I’m gone.

Chasing it down the left wing, my legs pump hard, the cleats bite into the field. Zayden tries to cut me off, but I fake right, then hook left and slip right past him. The world narrows to me, the ball, and the net.

One touch. Two. Then I launch it.

Hitting the right top corner of the net, perfectly.

The coach lets out a grunt of approval. “That’s what I like to see, Reyes.”

I smile, allowing the high that comes with practice to take over. Thiago jogs over to me, grinning like an idiot. “Make one goal and already think you’re the king. Watch it, Ezra, the midfielder might come for your spot next.”

“Sure thing,” Ezra replies flatly .

“Maybe one day,” I reply to Ezra as he just lifts his middle finger and flips me the bird.

Zayden calls for the ball, so I begin to move once again.

This time, I play assist. I pass it, cut it across the field, and call for the return.

The ball kisses the inside of my cleats, and I flick it behind me to the newbie, Tyler.

He fumbles —of course, but it’s clean enough to get the coach's approval.

“Reyes, you got eyes on you,” Jensen shouts as he scribbles something onto his clipboard. “Keep it that way.”

I try.

Fuck do I try.

I try not to think of how my hands felt on hers. The fragrance of her shampoo or the softness of her skin.

But she’s everywhere.

I go harder, trying to push the obsessive thoughts away, moving faster, pumping my legs. Getting my body worked up to the max. I side tackle. Steal. Chest trap. Pivot.

Then the sound of the whistle cuts like a blade through the field. “Hydrate. Three minutes. Move it.”

I hike up my jersey, allowing the air to hit my abs, feeling great on my fevered skin. My legs ache and my lungs burn. I welcome it all, the safe and familiar feeling of doing what I love most. Then the air shifts, everyone is standing like they are watching a fucking wreck, and maybe they are.

I heard the storm before I could spot it.

“Nicolas fucking Reyes.” Tatiana snaps as she cuts through the field, her movement sloppy due to the heels on her boots.

Zayden murmurs, “Oh shit,” before chugging the rest of his water.

“Fuck, here we go.” Thiago groans, already taking his place beside me, as we watch her stomp towards us.

A woman on a mission… to fucking kill me .

“STAY AWAY FROM SHILOH!” She yells, jabbing her finger towards me like she’s aiming a gun. “She doesn’t need you fucking with her head more than it already is. She’s not a fucking rehab.”

I blink, sweat dripping down the side of my head. “Tati–”

“No,” she snaps. “You don’t get to say my name as if we are friends, one thing is June and another is Shiloh. June hasn’t even been dead for long. Here you are already trying to fuck her friend. Her best friend.” Her tone is venomous and full of disgust.

“That’s not what happened.”

“Know your place, Nicolas.”

With that, the coach stands between us, debating whether to let her continue or end it. I stay silent, just letting her land all the killing blows I deserve.

Because the worst part is that she’s not wrong.

I want to kiss Shiloh.

I want to crawl inside her and make a home out of her heart.

I've wanted Shiloh from the moment I laid eyes on her.

I want the very thing I could never have.

Ezra is the one to step in. “Can we talk off the field, please?”

He tries to plead with his ex as she shoots daggers at me with her glare.

She looks one last time before she turns around and allows Ezra to guide her off the field and towards the benches, leaving fire in her wake and silence so thick it chokes.

Brad usually always has some shit to say, “Damn, and I thought I had women problems, but I like yours much better.”

“Can it, Brad.” Zayden snaps, taking a step forward and making him take two back. Fucking pussy. Coach clears his throat. “Break is over. Reyes, in goal.”

Of course.

Punishment wrapped in professionalism .

Walking towards him, I grab the pair of gloves and jog to my spot outside the goal. Trying not to let the poison of Tatiana’s words consume me, but I think we are beyond that. The damage is done, and just like June’s life, I’m also the villain in hers.