Considering the look on her face, she probably had.
Shakespeare popped into my head: I wonder men dare trust themselves with men.
I considered going after her and trying to explain it was just a bunch of talk, but I didn’t get the chance.
“New chick’s got a fine ass on her, hey Malone?”
I felt myself tense just a little. It was Jeremy, though, so I let it slide.
“Yes, she does,” I said quietly. I didn’t look at him, but I thought I heard him huff through his nose.
“The things I would do to that ass…” Frankie let out a whistle.
“What?” I snapped as my head swiveled around. He didn’t look at me—he was too busy watching Nicole walk away.
“She’s got the kind of thighs you just know are going to hold you tight.”
My chair crashed to the floor, and I was over the table and punching the shit out of that motherfucker a second later. I could hear people yelling around me, including Frankie, but I didn’t pay any attention. Someone grabbed my arm from behind and started pulling me off of him, so I kicked Frankie in the shin instead.
“Jesus, Thomas!” Jeremy said with a snarl as he yanked me away. “Calm the fuck down!”
He kept dragging me backwards as I continued to kick out at Frankie.
“You stay the fuck away from her, you hear me?” I screamed at him.
“Shit! Yes! I hear you!” Frankie yelled back as he held his bleeding nose. He looked up at me. “I didn’t know you were after her, Tom—I swear. I didn’t mean anything!”
“Don’t fucking touch her!” I screamed again. “Don’t you ever fucking touch her!”
“Come on, Thomas,” Jeremy said as he tightened his grip on both my arms. “Let’s go hit the field. I’m feeling lucky today.”
I let him pull me out of the lunchroom and to the lockers. I threw on my practice jersey and shorts without thinking. I couldn’t think. I knew some of Frankie’s ways of getting chicks were less than scrupulous, even by my standards. Worse than that, all my mind could do was conjure up visions of Rumple wrapping her legs around Frankie, and it made me want to go right back out there and finish beating his ass.
Out on the rain-drenched, muddy field, Jeremy pelted me with free kicks until all I could do was concentrate on defending. That asshole could put some serious power behind the ball, and I was bound to be bruised before we were done. He delivered another one at close range, and I caught the ball at my chest and curled it inward, securing it before I ran to the top of the box and rolled it back out.
“So,” Jeremy said as he tossed the ball on the ground and started to position himself for another kick, “you want to explain that shit in the lunchroom to me?”
“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I replied. I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet, getting ready. I watched his leg muscles, but he didn’t seem like he was going to kick yet. I stayed in position.
“You were out of control, dude.”
“So?” I snapped. Way too defensive, and I knew it. “I don’t want anybody chasing after the girl I want. Not until I’ve had a piece of her.”
The words didn’t even feel right coming out of my mouth. They flowed easily enough because I’d said these lines before, but they didn’t feel right.
Jeremy took a step back and prepared to kick.
“Thomas, when you and I were both checking out Rachel last year, you didn’t do that.” His foot slammed into the ball heading far left and down. I jumped for it and got enough of my fingers on it to knock it to the left of the net but ended up in the fucking puddle in front of the goal.
“Shit!” I was covered in mud.
Jeremy laughed. He walked up to me and held out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me out of the puddle.
“Perfect shot,” he said, “even if it wasn’t a goal!”
“Nice,” I replied. I rubbed my hands on my shorts to try to get some of the mud off.
“Seriously,” Jeremy continued, obviously not letting this drop, “when I said I was looking for more with her, you just shrugged at me and backed off. I think you even told her to fuck off and leave you alone. So what’s the deal with Nicole?”