Page 5 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

Theo

December

The entire week since returning to campus, my mood has been in the toilet.

I’ve done my best to appear unaffected by everything happening back home, and seemingly, putting it out of my mind and pretending those issues don’t exist. Not the healthiest option, obviously, but getting through senior year kind of depends on it.

And I thought I was doing a pretty good job of keeping up the pretenses, but with the guillotine of impending doom hanging over me, my friends are starting to notice the shift.

“Uh, you good, T?”

I glance up at the sound of Phoenix’s voice just in time for him to drop onto the couch beside me. His dark brows knit together at the center while he frowns at me, and I return his expression two-fold.

“Why wouldn’t I be? ”

“Because he called your name multiple times before you realized he was even talking to you,” Wyatt supplies, chuckling softly from where he just materialized on the other end of the rec room sectional.

Oh, shit.

“Oh, my bad, man. Guess I was zoning.”

Phoenix doesn’t buy it for a second, cocking his head to the side. “It’s your dad, isn’t it?”

Drawing in a long breath, I nod. “Just got off the phone with him, yeah.”

“How’d that go?” he asks slowly, though from his pained expression, he already knows the answer.

“Besides wanting to commit patricide by the end of it? Fucking peachy.”

A screaming match with Adam Greyson—one ending with the ultimatum of getting my ass to Vermont for this family trip or else —isn’t something I’m equipped to handle. And the more I stew in the frustration and anger I feel toward him, the shittier my mood seems to get.

“Things are still that bad back home, huh?” Wyatt asks, shooting me a look of sympathy.

Wyatt knows the sordid details of my home life. Having been down in Florida last winter when I found out my family was falling apart at the seams, then also being around during the process of their divorce, he got a front row seat to the toll all of this has taken on me.

But I haven’t seen him since Thanksgiving, so I give him a quick run-down of the holiday events.

“Walking into that house and seeing her there was…” I pause and blow out a breath. “Surreal and infuriating don’t begin to cover it.”

He nods, his nose scrunching up in distaste before asking, “And I assume the same can be said for having the enemy under the same roof?”

Yeah, you can say that again .

“We got into it a bit after dinner.”

I’m still kicking myself for forgetting my bag in my room while leaving in my blaze of glory. Had I not stormed out like that, I wouldn’t have needed to return to the house, and the entire run-in with Madden would’ve been avoided.

There’s a chance I said some shit I shouldn’t have, especially the bit about his dad, but I try to push away the guilt for that.

It’s not like I knew his dad passed away, otherwise I would’ve never made the comment to begin with.

I might loathe Madden’s presence in my life—both as family and a rival—but he’s still a human, and nobody deserves something like that thrown in their face.

“Hey, it could be worse,” Phoenix says, pulling me from my internal musing.

“Oh yeah? Wanna enlighten me?” I ask while arching a brow.

His lips pull into a shit-eating grin. “At least he’s pretty to look at.”

Wyatt shakes his head and chuckles ruefully. “God, you’re lucky Holden wasn’t around to hear you say that. He’d probably end up pissing all over you just to remind you you’re his.”

“Please, he’d say the same thing if he were here.”

“That’s true, he would,” I agree before tacking on, “But you’re also forgetting I don’t swing that way.”

Phoenix snorts. “Uh, I clearly remember you making out with Camden at a party sophomore year, so I don’t think you can say that as a definite.”

I’m about to dismiss his comment as fiction when I realize…shit, he’s right. I’d completely forgotten about that night—or can barely remember it, rather. And the pieces managing to stick ended up locked in a mental vault and buried beneath three feet of cement.

Though, now that we’ve brought them back to the surface, I do remember it being kinda hot.

“One, I was drunk as hell, so there’s no way it can count as anything. And two, from the little I remember of the encounter, he was the one who kissed me. ”

A dubious look crosses my roommate’s face, and he shakes his head. “Hate to break it to you, T, but it still counts. And you were definitely into it, which would explain all the foreplay-like banter you’ve been exchanging ever since.”

I roll my eyes at the insinuation, because it’s fucking wrong. “Don’t get it twisted. Just because you love dick doesn’t mean everyone around you does too.” I pause before adding, “And it’s not foreplay, it’s him being an imbecile and me being fed up with his shit.”

“And da-nile isn’t just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Phoenix shoots back immediately.

Except it can’t be denial if what he’s saying isn’t true.

Wyatt, oblivious to the sidebar about Camden, makes a little humming sound in the back of his throat before rerouting us to the original topic. “I mean, I’d consider myself straight, but I’m secure enough to admit Madden is a good-looking dude.”

Okay, sure. Objectively speaking, Madden is an attractive guy. He’s catnip for anyone who’s into the dark-haired, brooding, inked-up bad-boy type. And I guess Cam is too, in his own boy-next-door-meets-court-jester way. But that doesn’t mean I’m actually attracted to them.

God, this is giving me a headache.

“Why are we talking about this, exactly?” I groan. My head slumps back against the couch cushion, and I rub my temples. “I have to spend an entire week trapped with the guy over winter break. Sharing a hotel room, no less. I don’t need to listen to you both yammer on about how attractive he is.”

Lord knows the week is going to be painful enough as it is. No need to make shit even weirder.

With my mind fixated on dread, I don’t immediately notice the way Phoenix and Wyatt perk up at the information I’ve dropped in their laps.

It’s not until Phoenix holds his hand up, drawing my attention back down from where it was focused on the ceiling, that I realize they’re both staring at me in abject horror.

“Wait, what did you just say?” Wyatt asks, his gaze locked intently on me.

Phoenix leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and slowly nods. “Yeah, rewind for us. What do you mean you’re gonna be trapped with your sexy stepbrother for a week?”

I’m going to kill him.

“My father and his lovely bride had the completely insane idea to force us on a ‘family bonding’ trip over break. So we’re going skiing up in Vermont.”

My gaze flicks between my teammates, unsure why this information is of any importance or relevance to them. But Wyatt and Phoenix share a look—one where the two of them seem to be having some kind of silent conversation—only for a lightbulb to go off in both of them at the exact same time.

“Oh, hell yes,” Wyatt says while Phoenix chuckles, a giant grin spreading over both their faces.

Unfortunately for me, I seem to miss what could possibly be so great about this horrible excuse for a family vacation, and I glare at the two of them.

“Why do the two of you seem excited about my suffering in misery?”

“Because, T, this is exactly what we needed.”

Yeah, still not following.

Wyatt motions toward me while he elaborates. “You’re gonna be sleeping under the same roof as the Blackmore captain—spending an entire week with him. Sounds like the perfect opportunity to get some intel on where their pennant is. ”

My gaze darts between the two of them again, and I swear to God, they may have lost their damn minds more than my dad and Carla. Because there’s no way they’re thinking about the Penny Play right now. Not after I just told them I’m being sentenced to purgatory.

Then again, as our team captain, I’m sure it’s something Wyatt’s been thinking about quite a bit. Especially with him needing to hide our pennant in the next couple weeks.

Phoenix taps his hand against his thigh before pointing at me. “This is brilliant, actually. Madden is the one who has to hide it, so there’s a chance he’ll be the only one who knows where it is.”

“Ah, only if he’s smart,” Wyatt amends ruefully. “Technically, the captain could tell anyone he wants, but why risk anyone being extorted for intel? That can’t happen if no one else knows.”

I roll my eyes. “You guys are playing way too much Call of Duty if you’re really suggesting I turn this ridiculous vacation into an even more ridiculous Black Ops mission.”

“Blasphemy!” Phoenix shouts. “The Penny Play is a sacred tradition, one we both know you’re just as deep in as we are.”

“Exactly,” Wyatt agrees, and the two of them share a high five. “It’s my solemn duty as the Leighton team captain to hide our pennant from the grubby clutches of those Falcons, and I take it very seriously.”

He does make a point. The Penny Play might be the most sacred part of the rivalry Leighton has with Blackmore University. How can it not be, when it’s been around for nearly as long as the baseball programs?

It started way back in the early 1900s when the Blackmore baseball team stole Leighton’s championship pennant right out of the stadium locker room. So, in obvious retaliation, the year after Blackmore won their first championship, the Leighton team returned the favor .

It’s been a battle between the schools every year since, with a list of agreed upon rules put into place after they had to replace the pennants one too many times—like when Blackmore lit ours on fire back in the ’70s.