Page 19 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

It’s faint, but it’s there nonetheless. And it draws me in—a moth to a flame—until I’m taking a fractional step in his direction. Small enough to only be noticeable to someone looking directly at me.

The second I do, his jaw tics and nostrils flare. But it’s the way those eyes—the ones that’ve come to haunt me in every waking hour—harden to stone that is a blade to the gut.

I’ve tried not to think about what caused his sudden change of pace that fateful night. But right now? It’s the only thing I can think about, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to grab him by the arm, drag him away from all the prying eyes, and demand some answers.

Yet, I somehow fight it, and instead, snap out of the trance he pulled me into.

“Look, we’re not here to cause any trouble—”

Phoenix’s sharp laugh cuts me off. “I highly doubt that, otherwise you wouldn’t be crashing in the first place.”

I roll my eyes, completely unfazed by the venom in his words. “It’s a college party, Mercer, not a wedding. Last time I checked, there wasn’t a guest list.”

Dillon and Zander chuckle under their breaths, but it’s loud enough to draw the attention from a few of the Leighton players, and their lips curl back in disgust.

“Yeah, but we don’t like to consort with a bunch of cheaters. So I think I speak for everyone here when I say you guys leaving would be in everyone’s best interest.”

It’s obvious to any one of us, he’s talking about the steroid scandal the football team was involved in last year. An unfortunate turn of events, obviously, but it has nothing to do with any of us standing here. We’re all clean as a whistle.

“Except not a fucking one of us are juicers,” Dillon retorts before I have the chance. “So why don’t you just go have some fun and forget you ever saw us?”

“Because the lot of you are a bunch of cockroaches, popping up wherever the hell you please, and it’s gotten old. So you can either get the fuck out, or I’ll remove you myself,” Wyatt snarls, stepping in closer to use his size as an intimidation tactic.

Unfortunately for him, Dillon has about twenty pounds and at least an inch on him, so it doesn’t really work, but it’s entertaining to watch him try.

Sometimes I forget just how seriously some of these guys—on both sides—take this rivalry.

Until moments like this, when the tension climbs to such high levels, there’s nowhere else to go but down.

Then I’m reminded of it, along with the repercussions when someone snaps and starts throwing fists instead of insults.

We’re all screwed if that happens.

And the last thing we need is suspensions before the season officially starts.

My gaze shifts around the group, assessing the situation. The animosity is palpable as always, of course, but combined with alcohol, this entire confrontation is a powder keg about to explode.

So I lift my hands slowly in surrender, and do my best to defuse the situation.

“Nah, that’s okay. We can leave,” I tell Wyatt, but Dillon is quick to pipe up with an idea of his own.

“But, you know, we did come all this way. And since most of your team is here…maybe you won’t mind if we check out some other parts of campus instead.”

My eyes sink closed for the briefest moment, wishing he could’ve kept his mouth shut. And, of course, because the situation wasn’t bad enough, Zander opens his mouth too.

“You know, Dill, that’s a great idea. I was talking to a girl earlier who mentioned seeing a pretty blue pennant hanging around campus since getting back from break,” he taunts wryly. “Maybe we should grab her for the ride, see if we can’t jog her memory for the location.”

I can’t be certain it’s a lie, though knowing Zander’s tendency to egg people on, I’m willing to bet it is. But regardless, it does the trick, because Wyatt may as well have steam pouring from his ears as he glances between my teammates.

“If you set foot anywhere on our turf after leaving here, I have no problem calling it in to campus security.”

“Right,” Dillon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because a group of old men with flashlights and ticket pads are so terrifying.”

Wyatt’s fingers clench at his sides. “Try me. I fucking dare you.”

A girl pops up beside him, her hazel eyes brimming with worry as she grabs his fist. “Wy, c’mon. Just let them be. It’s not worth it.”

Dillon laughs. “Yeah, Wy. Listen to your girlfriend.”

“Funny sentiment, since you haven’t listened to a goddamn thing I’ve said all night.”

“Your demands aren’t written in gold,” Zander snarls, getting right back in Wyatt’s face before glancing at the girl beside him. “And screwing the sister of baseball royalty doesn’t make you a king.”

A chorus of oohs echoes around us, and it takes me a second to realize this girl must be Lexi Waters—the younger sister of the Sacramento Storm’s catcher, Keene. The guy won a Golden Glove his first season in the majors last year, which is damn near unheard of.

And it’s his stats from his years playing college ball for Foltyn that I’ve been chasing my entire time at Blackmore.

I don’t really have the chance to process the revelation, though, because Wyatt is lunging for Zander, his hands fisting the front of my teammate’s shirt.

It happens in a blink, but I recover quickly and rip Wyatt away before shoving my body between them.

I don’t think either had time to throw a punch, and I’m determined to keep it that way when I grip Zander by the shoulder and block him from lunging back at Leighton’s captain.

I look behind me to find Theo and Phoenix joining the fray just as quickly, the latter ushering Lexi away while Theo slides in front of Wyatt, pressing his palms to his chest.

“Wyatt, calm down,” Theo hisses.

But Wyatt doesn’t hear him, all the fury and hatred boiling over as he tries to lunge for Zander again.

“Say another word about her, and I will fucking kill you!” Wyatt snarls.

“Like to see you try,” Zander taunts, and I have half a mind to deck him myself for his bullshit.

“Quit while you’re ahead, or I’ll make sure to let him get a right hook in before pulling him off you.” My gaze flashes up to Dillon before I shove Zander in his direction. “Get him out of here. I’ll meet you at the car. ”

Something bumps me from behind before they have a chance to respond, and I glance back to find Theo right there, his shoulder knocking into mine.

He’s struggling to keep Wyatt at bay until Phoenix steps in again, grabbing under Wyatt’s arms and putting him in some sort of headlock I’ve only seen wrestlers use.

I take a step in their direction—toward Wyatt—still looking to diffuse this entire situation, captain to captain.

“Wyatt—”

I don’t get more than his name out, because Theo turns enough to press his hand to my chest to stop me from approaching. The flame in his eyes from earlier ignites again, growing in intensity when his gaze drops to where only a thin layer of fabric separates our skin.

And that’s all it takes to send me straight back to Vermont. To the moment his hands were mapping my chest and arms in the hot tub. To the want in his eyes as he glared at me. To the anger and frustration he’d unleashed on me.

It’s all right there, at the forefront of my mind. And when his gaze lifts, colliding with mine again, I can tell it’s at his too.

I open my mouth to speak, having no idea what to say, but he beats me to the punch.

“Just go, Madden. You’ve done enough.”

My name falling from his lips sends a little zap of electricity down my spine, and I swallow harshly.

“Theo—”

“ Go ,” he snaps again, a little more bite to his voice this time.

His fingers quiver against my chest for a second, like he’s fighting the urge to curl his fist in my shirt, before he ultimately pushes me away. I stumble back a step or two, my eyes locked on him until I finally turn and follow my teammates out of the house.

But I can still feel the phantom heat of his palm long after we return to our own campus.