“Saint,” Coach growls in a warning tone.
“I know, I know! I swear, Coach, I’ll handle it.” My mind is completely focused on getting out of this unscathed. I drag a hand through my hair. Where could my keys be? I turn to Coach Garcia to convince him. “Don’t bench me, Coach. I’ll do double time to make it up to you. And I’ll pay for the sod replacement for the field. We’ll be ready for the game.”
“Fine.” Coach’s lips work and he crosses his arms. “Make it happen, Saint, or I’ll have no choice but to take this up with Principal Bishop.” He addresses the team. “Suicide sprints. Now.”
Their groans have me hiding a grimace. I wish Coach didn’t take his anger out on them. This could fuck with our plays if they resent me for a week of grueling practice.
Whatever. I don’t have time to deal with that right now. I jog over to Devlin and Bishop, dragging them away from the crowd watching the drama. Some of them compliment me for doing it. My jaw tics and I huff.
“My keys aren’t in my bag,” I mutter.
Bishop’s brows jump high. “Someone seriously got the slip on you.”
“Don’t rub it in.” I rub a hand over my face, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Either of you have any ideas?”
“Spare set?” Bishop suggests.
“No, I think I know someone who might know,” Devlin interrupts. His lips press into a thin line as a shadow falls over his face. “Go check the girl’s track team.”
“Why?” I don’t give a shit about the girl’s sports teams, so I don’t follow his logic. “I need to get a ride to my house to grab my spare keys.”
Devlin grips my shoulder. “Seriously. That little bitch with the sticky fingers is on the track team.”
“Gemma’s friend with the blue hair? The one who picked Eddie’s pocket to prove she could?” A thoughtful look crosses Bishop’s face. “She’s kind of hot in a guilty pleasure way. I’d totally do her in the backseat of my car at her trailer park.”
A vicious growl escapes Devlin and he shoves his best friend. Bishop and I both stare at Devlin. He’s so carefree that it’s odd to see him react so strongly to anything.
“I keep telling you, bro.” Bishop slaps Devlin on the back as he steers him toward the soccer field. “You have to let me know when you want to call dibs.”
“Shut up.”
Devlin gives Bishop a shove.
I have no choice but to head for the girl’s track and field practice. It’s better than driving all the way home. Coach will work himself into a damn frenzy with the time that would take.
Devlin turns out to be right.
As I approach the area where the girl’s track team are doing drills, I find Gemma hanging out nearby. She has two textbooks open as she writes in a notebook. Her honey-colored hair hangs over her shoulder in a thick braid, loose strands framing her face.
Gemma tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, appearing lost in thought. She looks beautiful in the late afternoon light.
I want to fucking destroy her as I stalk over to her.
It takes her a second to look up once my shadow blocks her light. I fold my arms and tower over her.
Once she peers up at me, shielding her face from the sun and squinting one eye, I get fired up.
“What did you do?” I hiss, reaching down and wrenching her to her feet.
Gemma yelps as her things topple to the grass.
“What the hell?” Gemma whisper-shouts, clawing at my arms.
It does nothing to make me release her. My fingers dig harder into her upper arms.
“How did you do it, Gemma?” I demand, bringing my face close to hers.
She gapes at me. She’s a damn good actress. I almost believe her act.