Chase

It’s not until the final second ticks away from the clock on the scoreboard that I can finally breathe easy again. The Roper crowd erupts into celebration mode, and our team does the same.

“You were perfect out there tonight,” Coach says to me, nodding his appreciation.

I don’t know about perfect, but I was definitely in the zone. I had my mind on the big picture but didn’t miss anything small. On game days, I’ve got lots of things running through my head—plays, Coach’s words from practice the past week, my Dad’s advice, my knowledge of what the other team does best…but the opening game kickoff brings me complete clarity. I’m focused then, never nervous.

And once a game is over, I’m mentally exhausted. I could go for a long, hot shower and a nap, but there’s no way I can blow off the after-game party for that.

“Hell yeah!” my teammate Tony Granger yells as he wraps me in a tight embrace.

He lifts me up, letting out a primal victory cry. I smile and let one out myself. We have a lot to be proud of tonight. No one more so than Tony. We shut out Jefferson City, due mostly to Tony’s performance on the defensive line.

“You killed it tonight, man,” I say in his ear.

He’s about to respond when a cooler full of ice and water is dumped over our heads by a couple teammates. I shake my head, and droplets of water fly through the air. The cold water feels good.

When we get to the locker room, I’m not surprised when Coach names Tony the game MVP. I get a little emotional as we all cheer for him, because Tony’s coming into his own this season. He’s a senior who used to be a kick-ass follower but has stepped up to be a leader his senior year.

Our trainer makes me sit in an ice bath because I took a hard hit during the game. I get out when he’s not looking and head for the shower. I’m drained, and I want to make my appearance at the party and then get home to bed.

The team’s after-game parties are epic. We have them at the lake house owned by Skylar Adair’s parents. Skylar’s dad owns several car dealerships in town and is loaded. He pays a cleanup crew to come in every Saturday morning and restore the lake house to its pre-party condition.

The lake house is on the outside of town, away from neighbors, so we can be as loud as we want. There’s an unspoken agreement with the local police that they’ll leave us alone as long as no one gets hurt and no one drinks and drives.

I’ve been coming to these parties since I joined the varsity team as a sophomore. It’s the only chance the team gets to blow off steam away from the field, and we make the most of it.

I ride to the party with Sam, and as soon as we walk in, someone hands us each a red Solo cup full of beer from a keg. Sam downs half of it immediately. I take a sip of mine, already planning to dump it off somewhere.

To stay in peak condition, I can’t drink alcohol. But I try not to be obnoxious about it because the other guys like to get stupid drunk after games, and I don’t want them to think I look down on that.

Hell, I wish I could have that mind-set. But for me, there’s no room for error.

“Hey, did Taylor say if she was coming?” Sam asks me, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“See if she texted you.”

I give him a look. “Why would she text me?”

“She’s got a thing for you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

He rolls his eyes. “Will you just fucking check, Chase?”

I take out my phone and look at the screen. Just a video message from the cheerleaders congratulating me from the girls’ locker room and a text from an unknown number. Lowering my brows, I read the message from the unknown number.

I made it home fine. Thanks again for your help.

It comes back to me then. The message is from Gin, and I saw it before the game started but didn’t open it. I’m glad she’s okay. I owe her for helping Cassie like she did.

“Who was that?” Sam grabs for my phone, eyes widening as he clicks on the video message. “Whoa.”

Several of the cheerleaders are wearing nothing but bras and their skirts in the message of congratulations. Sam seems to have forgotten all about Taylor as he watches it.

A loud cheer erupts from the other room, and people head that direction. Sam and I follow. When we walk into a bedroom, I see Tony’s already enjoying the biggest perk of being MVP this week. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, holding on to Taryn’s ankles and groaning as he fucks her.

She’s loving it. This is why every girl wanted that rose this morning—it means being the team’s virgin sacrifice this week. Roper girls save their virginity, hoping to be one of the sixteen girls we pick each season.

As MVP of both preseason games, I got to be first with Alexis Bushnell and Mandy Smith. I like that Tony’s getting his turn now.

“You think she’ll let me in her ass?” Sam asks me.

I give him a skeptical look. “Can’t hurt to ask, I guess.”

The crowd gets louder as Tony hits Taryn harder and faster. Looks like he’s ready to finish already.

“Ladies first!” a deep voice yells out.

Tony grins and reaches down to touch Taryn. I tell the guys it’s unclassy to get off with no concern for your partner, but sometimes they need reminding.

“You going next?” Sam asks me.

I shake my head. “Go ahead.”

The yells and chants are getting louder, and I leave the room to get a bottle of water from the kitchen. Seeing the newest member of the Sweet Sixteen give it up used to be exciting for me, but I’m kinda over it. I was part of it thirty-two times between the past two years. It’s fun for the newer guys—and for the girls.

I only have twelve games left in my high school career now. Twelve more roses to give out on Friday mornings in my second year as team captain. I’m sure I’ll take advantage of the opportunity for no-strings sex again, but tonight, I’m too sore and tired.

Oftentimes, other girls watching the players take turns with the newest member of the Sweet Sixteen want their own turns with us after. It turns into a literal clusterfuck some weeks, and I don’t have the energy tonight.

I’m thinking about hanging out in the hammock down by the water when I see Ryder St. Clair in the other room. I’m suddenly not so tired anymore.

Gripping my water bottle in my fist, I walk into the living room. Ryder has an arm around Ronnie, who’s giving him a smug smile.

“Hey,” I say to Ryder.

“What?”

“You better keep your girl away from my sister.”

He laughs. “I can’t control this one, man. She’s got a mind of her own.”

“If she comes near my sisters—or Gin—ever again, I’m not gonna kick her ass for it,” I tell Ryder.

“Yeah, you better not.”

“I’ll kick yours.”

He sneers, and I clench my right hand into a fist.

“Look, I think it was all a misunderstanding,” Ryder says. He turns to Ronnie. “Right, babe?”

She glares at me. “Tell your sister to stay away from my man.”

“It’s pretty loud in here,” I say to Ryder. “Why don’t we go talk about this outside?”

He puts his hands in the air, his expression serious now. “No need for that, man. I hear you.”

“Do you hear me?” I ask Ronnie.

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s a loud, collective cheer from the bedroom. Tony must have finished. My mind’s not on that, though. I’m still scowling at Ryder and Ronnie.

“This is the only warning,” I tell them.

“You can’t get into fights,” Ronnie says, sliding an arm around Ryder’s waist. “What would happen if our golden boy football god got suspended?”

I arch my brows and shrug. “If Ryder gets his ass beat, it won’t be by me. He’ll get in his car one night, and someone will pull a hood over his head and take him out in the country, where he’ll get the shit kicked out of him by someone he never even sees.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Ryder says, his eyes wide with fear. “Ronnie’s not gonna give you any more trouble.”

“Good.”

I walk away then. I’m so pissed off over what that brute Ronnie did that I’d like to punch her boyfriend just for the hell of it, but I need to choose my battles.

I’m not in the mood for a party. I text Sam that I’m walking home. It’s only a couple miles. I need time to myself to think about things.

There were people watching that fight today who I thought were my friends. I saw the videos posted on social media before the game started. People who should have stood up for Cassie just laughed, getting more excited as things escalated.

But Gin Fielding, who hardly knows my sister or me, took a punch to the face for her. Cassie was shaking when she came to get me from the field this afternoon. I hate to think what Ronnie could have done to Cassie—or Gin.

I owe Gin more than some Tylenol and a thank-you. But she’s so quiet and disinterested in everything around her. All I know about her is that she paints scenery for school plays and swims at the local Y. She only has two friends and mostly keeps to herself. What would a girl like her even want?