7. Dallas

Dallas

I pull my jersey down over my shoulder pads and fasten my pants, while I try like hell to avoid everyone in the locker room, except Benny. Coach is talking to some of the players, trying to get them hyped-up for the game, but I don't really get those types of speeches.

Really, I get the Boone, don't fuck this up speeches, and that's about it.

Which I should be mad about but really can't be. Benny, of course, is in a great mood as he grabs his jersey and pulls it on over his head. I look away, but make sure I don't really look at anyone in the room.

I know, with what happened with Coach Leighton, all eyes are on me all the time. Several of the guys on the team have requested I not be allowed in the locker room with them, but so far, their wish hasn't been granted.

Not one part of me is interested in any of these fuckers, but I didn't say that. I never say anything. I just keep my head down and try to get through my last year on the team.

But of course, someone is always up for a damn fight, and tonight it seems that someone is Curtis Meyers. Big ugly fucker that he is comes barreling at me so fast I barely look up in time to see him coming. "You lookin' at me, Boone?"

Jesus fucking Christ, here we go again. "I wasn't looking at anything, Curtis," I say softly. Too softly, but I just want this all to go away.

"I saw your eyes on me, fucker. You get a good look?"

"Back the fuck up," Benny says in an instant, putting one hand on Curtis's shoulder and shoving him physically backward. "He wasn't looking at your ugly hairy ass, Meyers. Who the fuck would want to do that?"

"Of course, you have your boyfriend fight your battles for you," Curtis snaps at me before looking back at Benny—who, of course, is totally unbothered by Curtis calling him my boyfriend. I, however, am horrified. My cheeks heat, and I know they have to be bright red.

My heart is racing in my chest, and I feel like I'm going to puke right here on the locker-room floor. I don't want Benny dragged into this. He's not gay. Everyone knows he's not. He's been dating Mya Turner for six months now, but it doesn't matter. Once someone puts that out there, the guys will be relentless. Like it's some sort of joke.

It's not a damn joke.

"Aw, you jealous, Curtis?" Benny taunts, and goddammit, why can't he just be quiet? Don't poke the big angry bear, Benny , I silently beg, just wanting to melt right into the floor and disappear. Be anywhere but here. "You want to be my boyfriend?" Yup, I might disintegrate.

Curtis turns beet red, but it's probably from anger. His fists clench at his sides as his chest puffs up. "Get the hell out of here, Benny. I'm not gay. Just ask your sister." He, of course, has to follow that up by grabbing his junk.

Benny's sister is twenty-two and would kick the living shit out of Curtis if he ever even tried it with her, but still Benny takes the damn bait. "Watch your mouth, Meyers." Benny goes up toe-to-toe with the asshole, and I try my best to hold him back.

"Don't, Benny. Fighting will get you benched," I say. Benny is glowering, just seething and wanting to throw his fist.

"Oh come on, Benny, we all know the only gay one here is your friend." Of fucking course, Rowan Kincaid has to step in and open his damn mouth. What a damn nightmare.

"Aw, you jealous too, Kincaid?" Benny taunts without missing a beat, going so far as to blow a goddamn kiss at him.

"Benny, stop," I say, trying to sound firm, but my voice sounds more like a squeak, and I'm worried I might pass out from my heart pumping so damn fast.

Benny looks at me with a concerned frown. This doesn't bother him. Not at all. He has no problem getting in these guy's faces, but I do. I can barely breathe, and he must finally notice because he gives me a clipped nod and then looks back at Rowan and Curtis with a glare. "Why don't you two worry about not fucking up on the field and get the hell away from us?"

"Whatever," Curtis grumbles, his shoulders slumped as he walks back over to his locker. "Just keep your fucking eyes off me," he says, and I want to scream that my eyes would never be on him. I want to tell him I don't find him the least bit attractive. That he's not even close to my type. But I bite my tongue and go back to finishing up getting ready for the game.

But my head isn't in it. The team starts to head out of the locker room, and I'm supposed to run out on the field with them, but I'm drained from the encounter that probably seems so minuscule to anyone else.

"Hey." Benny puts his hand on my shoulder. We're the last ones in the locker room. "I'm sorry about that, okay? I just can't sit by and let them say that dumb shit."

Because Benny has a pair of balls. I, apparently, don't. I'm fucking weak, and I hate it.

"It's fine," I say, trying like hell to get my breathing under control. I don't want to be like this. I don't want this to bother me so damn much. I wish I could just brush it off like it's nothing, but I can't seem to do that. I can't pull it together long enough to put a smile on my face that still probably wouldn't be convincing at all to Benny.

"No. It's not," he says firmly, and I know we need to get our asses out on the field or Coach is going to ream us both, but I also know by the look on his face, I'm not going anywhere. "You don't deserve to be treated that way. As if you'd want to look at Curtis's flabby, hairy body."

I cringe, but I do actually smile for real at that, shaking my head. "I don't."

"No one does, dude," Benny says and shoves me with his hand, not moving me one inch. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

"I don't," I say quickly. It's one thing he knows about what happened with Coach Leighton and with Chloe, but I still can't talk about that other thing. That thing that everything stems from. That massive part of me I hide away and hope no one sees.

He looks saddened by that, but he gives me a nod and then squeezes my shoulder. "I know, but still, you don't deserve to be treated that way, and please don't ask me to just let it go. It's bullshit. You're the best guy I know."

"That's just sad," I say—meaning it as a joke—but there's some truth to it too. Benny just rolls his eyes at me, but his kind smile is, of course, still in place.

"Let's go kick some ass, Dallas."

"Yeah okay," I say, trying to get my head in the game.

But my mind was scrambled even before the encounter with Curtis and Rowan. I mean, even more than normal.

Because tomorrow night, apparently, I'm going to be getting to know Colt—or even worse, letting him get to know me. And that's somehow far more intimidating and scary than Curtis and Rowan could ever hope to be.