41. Jacob

Chapter 41

Jacob

W e make our way back onto the field, but something's off. It's not that she's not playing well, but she's shaky, hesitating, almost too cautious with her plays. It has been like that the whole night. But I can't figure it out for the life of me and no matter how many times Ford or I ask Dylan, she keeps saying nothing.That's a lie. There is something, and I'm bound and determined to figure it out. I don't care if we have to corner her after this game is over and make her confess. Our relationship can't survive with secrets and right now my gut is telling me that Dylan has one.

Coach Woosley motions us to him, giving us another pep talk before we head into the next half. We're currently down by a point. The need to score a goal burns within me. We're doing better than any other team has against them, and I can see the fear in their eyes. For the first time, they're unsure if they'll walk off the green as winners or defeated.

My attention is drawn to the Summerview team, their loud, obnoxious laughter pulling me from my thoughts of Pickle. The captain stands at the head of the raucous group, his helmet tucked underneath his arm as he lords over them like he's a fucking god.

My eyes stay locked on him; there's something familiar. His build is larger, hair a little longer, but there's no mistaking who he is. How did I not see that before?

Brock fucking Johnson. I should've known he'd be playing college ball. I just never expected that I'd be playing against him. While he was a fucking amazing player, he was arrogant as hell and a total douche. But no matter how much of a prick he was, the masses loved him. Teachers thought he could do no wrong. All the girls fawned over him, begging for his attention. And the guys? Well, they all wanted to be his best friend. Not me though. I saw through the mask he portrayed to everyone. I knew he was evil. The only bright spot about moving was not having to go to school with him anymore.

Is that why Dylan's rattled? Playing against someone we used to go to school with.

Brock chooses that moment to look up, his eyes locking with mine, almost as if we're in a battle of wills, waiting to see who will submit first. He must remember who I am quicker than I did him, and he tosses me a smirk before putting his helmet on and making sure the strap is in place.

I hear movement around me, realizing I've totally spaced on the whole fucking pep talk the coach gave us. I only hope he didn't notice and I won't be running laps at the next practice.

"You okay?" Ford bumps into my shoulder.

"Yeah, just noticed the captain was someone Dylan and I went to school with." Ford looks in his direction, shaking his head.

"He looks and acts like a tool. Being on an undefeated team hasn't taught him anything about humility."

"I wouldn't blame it on being undefeated. He was always a dick."

When I turn toward the field, I see Dylan, geared up and already heading to her spot. Henry's heading to the center for the face off against Brock.

"We got this, and we got her. Let's teach those assholes what it feels like to lose against a team far superior in skills than them." Ford pats me on my shoulder and takes off at a jog, moving into position on the field ready for the second half to begin.

The referee raises the ball. Both Henry and Brock crouch low, and I imagine their eyes are locked in a fierce stare. The atmosphere on the field is electric, the tension palpable. The fans in the stands lean in, holding their breath as both players spring into action, eager to see who will come out victorious with control of the ball.

They collide with a powerful thud, sticks clashing as they each try to gain leverage over the other. Brock quickly drops his body lower, using his weight to push against Henry while simultaneously sweeping his stick forward to scoop the ball. I clench my jaw, ready to move when it's time. Henry counters with a quick, agile move, clamping down on the ball, securing it before pushing against Brock.

Once Henry has a secure grip, he pulls the ball back sharply while shifting his body weight to the side, lifting the ball from the ground and knocking Brock off balance. This opens a pathway for Henry to sprint away, and we spring into action, the crowd erupting in cheers and boos, depending on who they are rooting for.

Summerview's defense converges on Henry and he scans the area, looking for the opening. His eyes lock on me and he passes the ball. I flick my net, catching it easily as someone crashes into my side, attempting to knock me off balance. But I'm able to stay upright, thanks to some quick footwork.

Brock's eyes lock with mine as he sneers at me. I manage to skillfully weave around him while keeping the ball tight in my stick as I make my way toward the crease. We need a win.

As I prepare to shoot, Brock lunges in with a desperate check, narrowly missing my stick but making solid contact with my shoulder. The crowd gasps as the ball flies out of my stick, bouncing dangerously near the crease. But Ford's on it, quickly scooping it up and tossing it toward the net. All mouths are open, waiting to see if he makes it in.

Score! We're tied.

Brock doesn't stop his onslaught slamming into my back this time, hitting me hard enough I stumble, falling to my knee. I feel his presence hovering over me as I catch my breath.

"Too bad you didn't stay at our school, Stoll. Maybe you could have had your little crush's pussy and not me," he growls as he bursts out in laughter.

What is he talking about? I stand up slowly, glaring at him as I furrow my brow. Did I hear him right? Did he hit me so hard my mind's all jumbled?

"Awww, didn't you know, Jacob? Did she not tell you? I fucked Dylan. You remember her, right? The girl you followed around like a lovesick puppy dog. I wonder whatever happened to her, anyway?"

He fucked her? Where is she? Doesn't he know? I would have thought a girl playing on the team would be known at all the schools by now. It's not like it's not major news. Especially on the collegiate level. Good, I wanna keep it that way. But is this why Pickle is being so weird? Is she worried that we'll be mad that she hooked up with Brock? I mean I thought she had better taste than that, but we can chalk it up to being young and dumb.

"Fuck off, Brock. Dylan wouldn't have touched you with a ten-foot pole. She has better taste than to waste her time on a lowlife like you." I turn, done with him, heading back down the field, ready for the next play to begin.

I hear his footfalls as he jogs up beside me, bumping into my shoulder in a neanderthal move.

"That's where you're wrong. She begged for me. Dylan practically threw herself at me until I took her virginity. Know what's better, though? Once I was done with her, I shared her around like leftovers with the rest of the team. She was a bit of a wet fish in bed, but she sure knew how to suck a dick. Too bad she's not here to give me some head when we win. Maybe she's gotten better in bed."

My vision turns red as he takes another shot, knocking me off balance. I flip my body around in an instant, knocking him to the ground. I'll take the lecture and penalty, but no one is taking shots at my girl.

In a flash, chaos ensues, as players from both teams dive in to defend their teammates. Bodies collide, sticks clash, and voices rise in a cacophony of shouts and calls. The referee's whistle pierces the chaos, signaling a penalty. Tempers flare as players exchange heated words, until the coaches come onto the field, taking control of their players.

Brock just gazes at me, laughter filling the air, knowing that he's gotten the best of me. He achieved exactly what he wanted, and I played into his game.

Each team regroups, the adrenaline pulsing through the air, setting the stage for the next pivotal moment in this fierce battle on the field. I've got to get my head on straight. It's the last time he'll get the best of me and we will win this game, knocking his ego boost down a level.

Then and only then will I talk to Dylan about what he's said.