Page 78 of Secret Obsession
“What is the meaning of this?” someone roars.
Pierce staggers to his feet. He’s got blood dripping from a split lip, and his eyes are wild. Greyson shoves someone back, then grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet.
My ribs hurt, my face kind of hurts. I think my nose is bleeding again.
We face the football coach. He’s one of those small-but-mighty assholes who will hold their own against guys twice his size. He’s got his players pinned with a look, and Greyson and I both inch backward.
“Stay,” he barks at us.
Great.
He strides right up and gets in our faces. Coach Roake would freak the fuck out if we did anything to jeopardize our spots, so Greyson and I remain still. And calm, although I’m seething on the inside.
“Get your shit and come with me. All of you.” He points to the football players and us, then heads to the exit.
I grab my shit, tossing my coffee and holding on to the second one. The second sandwich goes in my bag, along with the protein bar. Greyson and I follow him toward the student center. He must have an office near the gymnasium, like the rest of the athletic department—with the exception of our coach. His office is at the stadium, far away from the rest of the bullshit.
That’s how he describes it anyway.
Maybe the football coach gives ours a heads-up, because Roake is waiting in the hall when we arrive.
When he sees Greyson and me, his eyebrows shoot up. He doesn’t say a damn word until the eight of us are in the office.
“Explain,” the football coach barks. He points to Pierce. “Starting with you.”
Ronan’s jaw tics. “Just a friendly little tussle, sir.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir,” one of his friends pipes up. “Devereux and Whiteshaw were just helping us settle a debate.”
I exchange a glance with Greyson.
Their coach points again, this time down at his desk. “You are all on fucking thin ice after thelasttime—” He cuts himself off abruptly and looks at Roake. “Unfortunately, I can’t say this sort of stunt is out of the ordinary for my boys.”
Roake turns his glare on us. “Do you two have anything to add?”
Just that we’re damn lucky sports are worshipped at this fucking school.
I shake my head, and so does Greyson. Quick, silent.
“Get out of our sight,” the football coach yells.
Ronan is the first to move. He yanks the door open and slips out, followed by his three friends. Greyson and I hurry after them, and I take a sip of the coffee before I forget it’s exactly how I don’t like it. I wrinkle my nose.
“Thanks,” Greyson says to one of the guys.
He shrugs. “Maybe pick a spot off campus next time you hockey assholes want to start a brawl.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I growl.
Ronan laughs and elbows one of his friends. “Chase is gonna get a kick out of this.”
Greyson rolls his eyes. But once we’re around the corner and away from the athletic offices, he draws to a halt and holds out his hand.
Ronan eyes him, then shakes it.
Ugh.
