I close my eyes and count to ten, ready to be done with this day. The whole place is starting to smell sour, a putrid mix of sweat, beer, and vomit. If this is the kind of shit they can get into in just a few hours, I don’t want to think about what might have happened if I’d been gone any longer. “If you don’t live here, get dressed and get out.”
Several of the guests file out. I hope like hell they won’t be lighting up social media with pics of our drunken recruits. Kendall stops on her way to the door, brushing her fingertips down my bicep the way a kid might stroke a favorite pet. If she notices my muscles tense at the unwanted contact, she ignores it.
“I never took you for a buzzkill, Reid.”
I ignore the cheap shot—Kendall’s the least of my problems—because there are fucking baseball players in the house. Talk about courting trouble. There’s no love lost between the two teams, so what the hell are they doing here?
Kendall tracks my gaze and flashes a thousand-watt smile. Mystery solved.
I grit my teeth. “Never took you for the kind to stir shit up.”
“You haven’t been returning my calls.” She shrugs. “I got bored.”
Un-fucking-believable.
“What a bunch of pussies,” McCoy says, slinging his arm around Kendall’s shoulders. His buddies laugh, and I curl my fists so I don’t do anything stupid. “Told you we should’ve gone downtown to the watch the game.”
The shortstop snorts and takes a pull on his beer. “Wha’d’ya expect? They’ve got a girl on the team.” He pauses and looks me dead in the eye. “She’s kind of hot though. I’d fuck her.”
This asshole thinks he can come up in our house and talk shit?
Fuck. That.
I get right up in his face, close enough to see the peach fuzz on his cheeks. He’s lit. I can see it in his eyes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand here and let him disrespect Kennedy. “I suggest you shut your fucking mouth and take a walk.”
“Or what?”
Silence falls over the room, and even though I’d like nothing more than to knock the smirk off his face with my fist, it’s not an option. Not today, anyway. That shit would get me benched for sure.
I crack my knuckles and turn to McCoy, anger pulsing through my veins like molten steel. “Get your boy out of here before I throw him out.”
McCoy gives his buddy a shove. “Let’s go.”
The asshole takes a few steps toward the door, then turns back to me. “Must be some good pussy to get your hackles up like that. Tell me, Reid. Does she give all the guys a taste or just you?”
White light explodes behind my eyes and I lunge forward, prepared to beat an apology from his dumb ass. He stumbles backward, just out of reach, and a pair of strong arms lock around my waist, holding me back.
“He’s not worth it!” Smith yells. “He’s not worth our season, man! He ain’t shit.”
The stupid fucker actually steps forward and tries to take a swing at me before McCoy grabs his collar and jerks him back.
“All right! Break it up!”
When I look up, campus police stands in the foyer, surveying the scene.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Could this day get any worse?
All the fight leaves my body, and Smith relaxes his grip. I straighten my shirt, praying the cop doesn’t ask for IDs. “Can I help you, sir?”
“We had a noise complaint,” he says, resting his hands on his belt as he surveys the scene. “But it looks like you’ve already taken care of the music, so I’m going to let you off with a warning. We get another call, I’m going to need names and IDs. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” McCoy and I say in unison. Rivalry or not, neither of us can afford to see our guys facing charges.
The cop looks me over. “Good game against Ohio, son. Best damn game I’ve seen in ages.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He wishes us luck against Wisconsin, and the baseball players follow him out when he leaves. Kendall brings up the rear, sauntering out the door with Johnson’s eyes glued to her ass.
I heave a massive sigh of relief. That was too fucking close.
The door slams and I do a quick head count, verifying all the recruits are present. Then I turn to Johnson.
“What the hell were you thinking?” It’s a rhetorical question, but his half-assed shrug has me seeing red, fury making my chest heave like I’ve just run the forty-yard dash. “You want to be captain next year? Being captain isn’t about being everyone’s drinking buddy. It’s about being a leader and setting a good fucking example!”
This time, he at least has the decency to look chagrined.
Coach’ll cut off my nuts if word of this gets out. This is the kind of shit that ruins reputations and gets teams put on probation. This is not what Waverly football is about, and it’s sure as shit not how we recruit. I can’t believe Johnson could be this irresponsible, but I’m even more pissed at myself for not realizing it ahead of time. These kids are my responsibility. I’ve let them down, even if they’re too fucked up to realize it at the moment.
“Dude, chillllax. We’re just having a little fuuun,” says one of the recruits, slurring his words. I narrow my eyes at him. Hawkins, from Maryland. The kid may be quick on his feet, but I’m not in the mood for excuses. Especially not from a shit-faced high school punk who can barely string two words together. “No harm, noooo foul.”
I’m about to unleash some next level heat on the kid when Tate, one of Johnson’s roommates, wanders down the stairs with his girlfriend close on his heels.
“You were part of this too?” I ask, unable to believe Tate could be this stupid.
He steals a glance at the kid hugging the trash can and holds up his palms. “Hey, man. I thought it was
