Make You Beg

“Remove your gloves,” he orders.

I frown but place my helmet on his desk and remove my gloves as he asks.

He leans forward, looking down at my hands even though he can’t see much because they are wrapped with athletic tape, then back up at me.

“Problem?” I ask.

His chair squeaks as he leans back once again. “Do you know what happens if something happens to that hand?”

“I’m confused as to what you’re talking about?” I lie, knowing exactly where this is going. Word gets around in this town. Too fast for how big it is. I blame social media.

“I saw some videos of you and the guys at Death Valley.” He arches a brow. “Still confused?”

I swallow but say nothing.

He sighs heavily. “I’d hate to see you ruin a football career over some high school bullshit, son.”

“With all due respect, I don’t expect you to understand,” I say.

“You’re right. I don’t understand why beating the shit out of someone is so important. More important than a football scholarship or the chance to one day be in the NFL draft.”

“I’m not sure what you’ve been told.” I change the direction of this conversation.

“I wasn’t told anything.” He stands. “I saw videos. Of you beating the shit out of a man my age.”

I smile.

“It’s not a compliment, Scout!” he growls. “You weren’t wearing any kind of gloves or protective gear to cover your face.”

I snort but cover it quickly when his eyes narrow on me. “Protective gear, Coach? It’s like your everyday street fight. Not a woman’s kickboxing class,” I inform him.

“I don’t give a fuck what it is. If you break a single fucking bone in your body, I will break two myself!” he shouts. “Do you understand me, boy?”

“Yes, sir.” I nod once, knowing damn well I’m not going to stop fighting at Death Valley, but whatever, I’ll pacify him for now.

“Get your ass back out there on that field.” He points at his door.

I pick up my helmet and gloves, then exit his office. I make my way to our indoor practice field to see the guys still standing by the bench. I can hear Coach behind me.

“Everyone get your goddamn helmets on. We’re running drills in full gear—bear crawls the length of the football field four times, followed by a hundred up-downs,” he calls out, cradling his clipboard to his chest with his stopwatch around his neck.

Audible sighs and groans come from my teammates, and Law knowingly looks at me.

“What?” I shrug, putting my sweaty helmet on.

“You all can thank Scout for your practice today. He’s fucked up my day,” Coach adds, and everyone glares at me.

Well, fuck!

_______________

Everything hurts. I feel like I’ve played three football games back-to-back. My hands are swollen along with my right ankle, and I have a headache, but I live for this. The need to push myself further than I ever have before. I like when someone gives me a challenge because I will prove them wrong. I can do whatever I set my mind to.

“Thanks a lot, Scout.” Mack slaps me on my shoulder, limping over to his locker.

“Anytime,” I say with a smile.

Law lies down across one of the many black leather couches, and I kick him to the floor. He just lies there, and Rellik laughs at him as he walks by. Monroe removes his helmet and shakes his head, his sweat falling onto Law.

“Man, I’m pretty sure I died out there,” Law groans.

“Maybe lay off the weed,” Monroe tells him.

“Or lace it with something a little stronger,” I suggest.

He laughs as he turns onto his back and sits up. Most of the other team members are in the showers or checking their phones. Practice ran late since Coach decided to be a sadistic ass today and test our limits. Three guys puked in their helmets. It was nothing new, though.

“So did our little doll take the bait?” Law asks Monroe.

He shakes his head. “She won’t come to the game. She thinks we’ll have some kind of shit planned to humiliate her.”

Law snorts. “I have a feeling she’s not dumb enough to think we’d pull that shit in front of others.”

“I don’t think she has any idea what we’d do,” I say honestly. Our little doll is terrified after what we did to her today. She’s confused and wondering just how far we’ll push her.

My phone dings, and I pull it out of my locker to see it’s the bookie for Death Valley. He’s a college kid who goes to UT.

Got a fight. Friday night. 3K

I type back.

Make it five and it’s a deal.

I place the phone back in my locker as I remove my pads. We have all fought at Death Valley, but Law and I more than Monroe or Rellik. And of course, I’m the only one who gets caught.