Page 3 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Cillian

T hank you all for coming in so early today,” Rory St. James says with a saccharine smile as she stands at the front of the conference room holding a clipboard in her arms.

I wouldn’t be here at all if attendance had been optional. The less time I have to spend around any of these tossers outside of the one job I came here to do, the better.

Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair and sit back, waiting for her to spit out whatever it is she’s dragged us here for.

I’ve been here only a week, so this dynamic she’s got with the team is something I’m still trying to wrap my head around.

I’m trying to figure out why Coach allows it.

I don’t understand it. Why she’s so involved and why everyone seems to put her on some kind of pedestal.

It seems like everywhere I look, she’s there.

“I know you’re probably all wondering why we asked you to come in on an off day,” she starts, her piercing gaze slipping around the room, pausing briefly when it lands on me.

“I think it’s pretty obvious we’ve been having a bit of a…

rough start and that’s okay. It’s a big transition for everyone, I get it, and we were prepared for that.

But we clearly need to work on team bonding.

That’s the place to start. Therefore…” She trails off as she looks over at Coach, who gives her a brief nod.

“We’re having an all-day clinic today that’s going to focus on trust-building and team-bonding exercises. ”

The entire room erupts in a series of pained groans.

I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest.

Just what I wanted. To spend my only off day with these arseholes who clearly don’t want shit to do with me as much as I want to do with them. They’ve made that abundantly clear.

Going out of their way to push me out of pitch play, talking shit every time the coaching staff is out of earshot, or ignoring me altogether.

Which I prefer.

All I want to do is play rugby. To finish these two years out at this damn school and go back home. Play for the Premiership.

But the only way I’ll end up with a contract is by playing for a team where a scout can see me.

I know that I’m good.

But if I’m not on a pitch then my chances of that are gone.

I don’t want to bond. I don’t want to work on team building. I want to get in and get out .

Unlike the rest of the team, I stay quiet, keeping my thoughts to myself because I’m in no position to complain about today’s activities. Truthfully, I’d rather take a hit right to the balls than work on some bullshit exercises that aren’t going to make anything better.

Forcing us together isn’t going to solve this problem, but I’ll let her figure that out on her own.

“Look, I get it. It’s not something you want to do on your only off day.

But let’s be real, it’s necessary and you all know it as much as we do,” she says as she crosses her arms over her chest, trapping the clipboard against it.

Her navy-blue V-neck dips slightly with the movement, exposing the pale creamy swell of her tits.

Which I ignore because that’s the last bloody thing I need to be noticing.

The very last.

“Rory, please for the love of God don’t do this to us.” One of the guys in the back of the room groans loudly. “I’m begging you.”

Her dark brow arches, and that sticky sweet smile returns. She doesn’t look the least bit sorry for the torture I know is coming our way. Apparently the one thing we can all agree on is that we don’t want to be around each other.

“Sorry, but it’s happening,” she responds. “Get your gear and put your game faces on.”

Coach St. James steps forward when a chorus of murmurs ring throughout the room, a serious expression on his face as he says, “I expect everyone to give it their best today. I know it’s not a normal practice day, but I support everything that Rory said up here.

I’m giving the reins to her on this because it was her idea and you all know how much I value my daughter’s feedback, and I know that you do as well.

This is necessary for our team development, and I know that you’re committed to making this year the best, most successful year we’ve had. Go gear up, let’s do this.”

He dismisses everyone with that, and the guys begin to file out of the room, most of them still muttering and complaining under their breath.

Not that it’ll do any good because obviously this pointless clinic is happening whether we like it or not.

And I’m quickly beginning to realize that Rory St. James has this entire team wrapped around her finger and I haven’t the slightest idea why .

“Today’s team-building exercise will be fairly simple.

You’re going to split into two groups, a mix of forwards and backs, then run through an obstacle course relay.

The first team over the finish line wins,” Rory says, standing next to her father and Coach Matthews.

She’s got a bright yellow lanyard around her neck with a shiny whistle attached, and I already know she’s going to blow the damn thing until our ears bleed.

She’s on a mission. I can see the defiance in her eyes, and the way she’s squared her shoulders as if she’s prepared for an impending battle.

One that there’s no doubt she’s going to lose.

“Every station requires collaboration, which means you’re going to have to work together if you want to succeed.

Much like you have to do on the pitch,” Coach St. James says.

“You will need to lean on your teammates and communicate with each other. While this is Rory’s exercise, I did suggest that we…

up the ante —make sure you guys are really invested in being the winning team.

Losing team will run a Bronco. Before you leave the practice facility today. ”

Bloody fucking hell.

A Bronco is without a doubt the hardest drill you’ll ever have to do on a pitch.

A series of sprints that leaves you nearly puking from a combination of exertion and exhaustion.

It’s fucking brutal. This might be the only way to get the lot of us to work together because not a single one of us wants to run a Bronco, no matter how much we can’t stand to be around one another.

“Brooks, you’re captain, you get first pick for your team and…

Ezra, you pick the other team. Once you’ve split up, we’ll briefly run through what each station’s objective is.

After that you’ll be on your own. The coaching team and I will be keeping time, and an eye to make sure everyone’s participating and playing fair.

Remember guys, the purpose of this is to build trust and to learn to work better together.

That includes every person on this team. ”

Brooks laughs darkly under his breath as his gaze locks on to mine, the corners of his lips curling into a sinister smirk while he lifts a brow tauntingly.

And then it begins.

One by one they pick guys for their teams until there’s no one left on the try line but me.

I’m not surprised, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t piss me right off. I catch Rory’s eyes, and she sighs defeatedly before shaking her head and turning to Brooks, then Ezra. “Really?”

They both shrug, Brooks with that stupid fucking smirk that I want to wipe clean off his mouth.

“Cillian you’re with Brooks. Let’s go.”

Only then does the self-satisfied, arrogant expression on his face slightly falter, and now I’m the one smirking.

Arsehole.

It’s clear that he and his dickhead of a friend are going to do whatever they can to ice me out and that’s perfectly fine by me, because if there’s one thing about me, it’s that I don’t give up.

I might be keeping my head down and walking the straight and narrow, but that sure as fuck doesn’t mean that I have to lie down and let these guys walk all over me as if I don’t deserve a chance to prove myself on this team just the way they have.

Slowly, I walk over to Brooks’s side of the pitch and stand next to Fitz who glances over and gives me a small curt nod. At least he acknowledges me, unlike the majority of the team.

The indoor training pitch has been turned into a series of obstacles sectioned off with fluorescent yellow rope and bright orange cones.

“Station number one, wave passing. Make a formation and pass the ball down the line. This drill is going to focus on precise, accurate passing, so I need to see everyone working together. You can move on to the next drill after completing four successful passes from one end of the line to the other.” Rory instructs with her hands on her hips and that damn whistle hanging around her neck.

Thank God she ditched the damn clipboard.

“Next up we’ve got shadow running, and then partnered sprints where you’ll carry another player to the try line and back before the opposing team. C’mon, guys, let’s do this.”

The first drill goes exactly the way I expected it to—the guys begrudgingly passing the ball my way because they have no other choice in order for us to actually complete it and move to the next station.

When it’s over, we pause for a water break before moving on to the next drill, and I step off to the side.

Grabbing my water, I squirt a stream into my mouth, watching as Brooks walks over to Rory and tosses his arm around her shoulder like it’s something that he’s always done.

He says something near her ear and then pokes out his lip like he’s pouting, and she elbows him in the side, pushing him off with an eye roll.

He’s smirking, clearly comfortably going back and forth with her. A few other guys from Ezra’s team join in, and I sit back, watching the exchange.

These guys are friendly with her and not just in a “coaching” kind of way like I originally thought. In a friendship kind of way.

A loud, shrill whistle floats through the air. “All right let’s get back to it.” Rory says, putting space between her and the guys. “We’ve got a lot of work to do today and no time to waste.”

The rest of the guys from my team filter back over one by one, and Ezra’s with them. My eyebrow curves up when he grins, but then he shoulder checks me hard as fuck, knocking my water bottle out of my hands and onto the ground, where it bursts open, soaking my feet through my rugby boots.

“Might want to watch where you’re standing, Cairney.

Wouldn’t want our new star player to end up hurt.

Would be pretty tragic.” His head tilts, lips curling into a smirk as amusement flashes in his eyes.

Except there’s nothing funny about it. His voice is low, so that only I can hear him, and I know it’s because he’s trying to pull this bullshit so no one from the coaching staff or Rory know he’s mouthing off.

I roll my tongue across the top row of my teeth, counting backward from five.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

I add an extra second just for good measure so I don’t do something stupid like beat the shit out of him.

For fuck’s sake.

But that is exactly the response he’s looking for, and I’m not going to give it to him. Especially not with the entire team as an audience.

I don’t say a word as I bend and retrieve my water bottle, not until I’m twisting the top back on. “Yeah, thanks for that, mate. Way to look out for your teammates.”

His shit-eating, sinister smile dims for only a moment, and then he’s nodding, brushing past like he didn’t just fucking threaten me.

Team bonding right?

It’s going to be a long two years at Prescott, and it’s only just beginning.