2. Lucas

"Get the fuck off me."

Jase's blue eyes are steely, his lips tight. But the vein in his neck throbs, his heart thundering hard against my chest.

"Doesn't seem to be what your cock wants." I stare at him, my own dick straining against my jeans at the flicker of desire in his gaze. Until the shock seeps in, extinguishing the ember.

"I think I know better than you what it wants," he grumbles, giving me a shove. "And it sure as hell won't find it in here."

"I don't know, Maxwell. Something… or someone… has your dick in a literal twist in those jeans."

My skin scorches under the fire in his gaze. To be honest, from the second I walked into the locker room during preseason, there was something about Jase Maxwell that had my head spinning. Maybe it was the enormous chip on his shoulder that stirred my curiosity. Or maybe it was his rock-hard ass and chiseled body that made me take notice.

Truth is, I've wanted to break down his walls for a while now because I'm sure that under all those layers of dickheadedness lies who he really is. He's got demons, and I'm a sucker for the broken. Most of the guys on the team would probably tell me to save myself the headache, but I know from experience that the asshat fa?ade hides something deeper. Someone hurting. Someone who needs saving.

I can't help it. I'm drawn to the dark and broody types like a moth to an open flame. It's my specialty, probably because I'm just as damaged. I guess it's true that misery loves company.

"Don't flatter yourself, Bentley. Maybe I'm just running through the highlight reel of the last threesome I had."

"Was the threesome with two other dudes?"

Color drips down the sides of his face, his jaw tensing. "Do you want me to put you through a wall right now?"

"Not particularly. I'd just like you to tell me why you're so defensive."

"It's my job, brah." Jase shrugs off my grip. "It's what I get paid to do."

"You didn't exactly earn your salary today on the field." I roll my eyes. "And anyway, it's always better to be honest with yourself than hide who you really are."

His jaw drops, eyes wide. "You really are a piece of work. I don't need your fucking ten-cent psychoanalysis of who I am and what I want."

"Oh, I already know what you want. I just wanna hear you say it."

He grips me by my shirt.

"Ooh, I like where this is headed." I waggle my eyebrows because I can't help myself, and he looks like he's about to blow a freaking gasket.

"You don't know me. And you won't ever have the chance." His breath is hot against my face, his stubble so close to my chin that if he pulls me any closer, it'll grate against my skin in that deliciously erotic way.

"Aw, but why? You're such a nice, engaging guy. Everyone wants to be your friend."

With a grunt, he lets me go and storms past me toward the door.

I swallow a chuckle. He's not the only one who can be a sarcastic asshole.

I love a challenge.

And Jase Maxwell is it.

So I make a quick decision and flip around to follow him out the door of the bar. He keeps his head low as he shoves his way through the crowd of drunks grinding against each other. Nobody recognizes his hulking frame, although a few try to paw at him on his way.

My gaydar has certainly failed me before but I always knew there was something about Maxwell. And it's not just because he's hot as fuck. I wasn't projecting gayness on him or anything. It was just a feeling I got, despite his rivalry with Gabe Kelly.

Everyone thinks he gives Gabe Kelly a hard time because he's a homophobe and doesn't like Gabe's lifestyle, but I believe it's because he feels threatened. Scared to face who he really is when there's so much hate out there. And maybe he's even a little jealous because Gabe had the balls to come out and Jase is still hiding in that dark, deep closet.

Before tonight, that was my theory.

And now?

It's just been proven.

That boner gave it all away. Left no room for interpretation at all.

Fuck me, it was huge.

I see the back of Jase's head bobbing in the sea of people gathered by the door.

He's damn intriguing. So many layers to peel back.

My phone pings with a text. I pull it out, staring at a text from my little sister, Ella.

When will you be home? I need help with my science project. It's due tomorrow.

Shoot. I forgot about the project. My younger siblings are at home with Krista, the most amazing nanny on the planet. I bet she did great in science.

I text Ella back.

I'll be home in about an hour. Can Krista help you get started?

I should be home right now with my brother and sister. It's the job I signed up for after Mom and Dad died.

A swirl of guilt knots my gut.

It's been five years since Mom and Dad died. I gave up a scholarship to Michigan State to keep the kids in a regular routine in their comfort zone with their friends and their school. I went to a local college, hoping I could still attract the attention of football scouts. I worked my ass off to keep the kids fed, clothed, and cared for while I went to school. And I finally did it. I made it.

But I'm still broken beyond repair.

Sometimes I think that it's so ironic that I'm a fixer since I don't know of a single person who could possibly fix me. I was shattered by my parents' deaths and even now, with all the fame, money, and fans, I still don't think I can ever be put back together.

Maybe that's why I'm so intrigued by Jase.

Maybe it's because we both have our own personal demons to face.

I pick up the pace and follow him outside. He's already stalking down the street. The science project is calling to me, but then again, so is that erection. So I jog after him and grab the back of his hoodie.

He stops short but doesn't turn around.

A sudden and strong force from behind knocks me into Jase's back. My nose crashes into him, a sharp pain shooting straight to my brain.

"No wonder why the Crusaders have such a shitty record. Too much fucking gay polluting the field."

Jase turns, his eyes narrowed. He pulls off his cap and hood, then moves slowly past me toward my assailant.

I whip around, leveling the smirky asshole who shoved me with a glare.

"If you don't turn your ass around and walk away, you're gonna have a problem," Jase growls, the threat in his tone clear.

"Are you deaf, Maxwell? I already have a problem. It's with your teammate, the fucking gay rookie."

Jase clenches his fists and steps closer to the guy. "Say it again."

"Gay fucking rookie," the guy seethes. "Gay ain't got no place on the fie?—"

And that's when Jase's massive fist rockets against the guy's jaw, launching so fast it's almost a blur.

The guy flies backward, landing on his ass with a loud grunt.

Jase leans over him. "Get up and you'll find out how big your problem is about to get."

I reach for Jase and pull him back. "He's not worth the risk to your career. Fuck him."

The guy wipes the blood from his mouth and laughs. "Too late, Bentley. You guys are the ones who are fucked."

Three other shadows come out of the darkness.

And one of them has a baseball bat hanging from his hand.

Son of a bitch was right.