crowd in the stadium is intense tonight. The cement aisles are damn near packed with fans eager to watch Marek Hawthorne do the thing that comes natural to him. Football. Our team is undefeated three years running, and the talent that boy holds in his body is the reason. As a freshman, he walked on and snagged a position right out from under a senior. This is the moment the rest of the student body started to take notice of him, positioning him in a place that allowed him certain privileges.
From the bottom of the bleachers, I scan the crowd until I catch Delaney five rows up. She’s wearing a bright red, plaid skirt that’s much shorter than the official uniform on campus. With the black knee-high socks and a cut-off Bulldogs t-shirt, she looks like the rest of the girls in the stands.
I check my own outfit and immediately feel outside of the “in” club. This is something I’m used to. With a deep breath, I ascend the large steps with all eyes on me. I don’t belong here, and everyone knows it.
After Marek’s little show on the front lawn of the English building, they’ve gifted me a wide berth to make sure they are not mistaken as being kind to me. After all, they wouldn’t want their king to see them overstepping the boundaries of his mandated social blackout.
“You could have told me about the dress code.” I flick the hem of her skirt and step past her.
“You need to get out more.” She inspects my jeans and zip-up sweatshirt with disgust. Her eyes never meet mine, and she crosses her arms over her chest, blatantly ignoring me. Delaney has never made me feel bad about what I choose to wear.
What the hell is that about? Being treated like shit by my best friend isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night.
“I’ve gotten out, and see where that’s gotten me,” I mutter under my breath. I want to add a threesome with our teacher and one of the biggest assholes on campus, but I stay quiet, my eyes scanning the field.
It’s easy to spot Marek. His large build makes him stand out in any crowd. He pulls his helmet off, grabs a hose contraption on the sidelines, and squirts water down his throat. Sweat from the first two quarters covers his face. The scoreboard shows we’re tied fourteen-fourteen.
“He’s been playing like shit,” the guy in front of us whispers to the man next to him, afraid someone will hear him talking poorly about our school’s savior.
“What’s going on?” I ask Delaney, trying to pull her attention from the sophomore boy next to her.
“You have some nerve, Palmer.” She rolls her eyes, then turns her back to me.
I feel out of place in these stands without Delaney. Why is she mad at me? What could have possibly happened between earlier to now? Breaker. Dammit. What have they done?
Marek stills before setting his helmet on the turf next to him and grips the collar of his uniform, holding a stance that screams intense power.
I glance around the stands and notice everyone is watching him. Awe and admiration are something boys like Marek are used to. They’re entitled to it simply by a birthright or earned from an easy dominance. He isn’t just the king on campus. He rules the field, too.
“Your boy toy is looking for a little attention.” Delaney releases a humorless laugh. “Why don’t you go tell him more about my parents’ divorce? Would you like the incriminating photos for your little show and tell next time?” She shoves past me, stomping down the steps and through the corridor that leads to the bathrooms and concession stands.
My jaw falls slack as I glance between Marek and my best friend. What has he done? Like he knows I’m searching for him, his eyes slip to mine. I’m the wounded baby zebra, and he’s the hungry lion.
He plants his feet and lifts a finger, motioning someone forward. No. No. I shake my head, and a cocky smile spreads across his face. I focus my attention on my Converses.
“I think he’s talking to you,” the man in front of me says. “I doubt that young boy is calling me forward.” My fate is settled, and this guy knows it as much as I do.
I shift my gaze up, and sure as shit, he’s pointing at me and then the turf at his feet. This isn’t the first time Marek has