Chapter Eight
Fuller
“What the hell, Fuller?”
Someone shoved me from behind with so much force that I flew forward several feet and almost crashed into the gym floor.
Spinning around, I put my fists up and got ready to confront whoever had pushed me. “Damn, Brandon! What’s your problem?”
“Did you have anything to do with that picture?” Brandon’s nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed in on mine. I’d never seen him this angry before.
“Seriously?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Brandon practically growled as he spoke. With each passing second, his face turned a brighter shade of red.
I glanced over my shoulder. A few of the other guys had entered the gym. Practice had been delayed by half an hour due to a minor flood in the boys’ locker rooms. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find TyShaun anywhere, and Marissa didn’t pick up when I called her. I had a sinking feeling in my gut that she was involved. Feeling helpless, I was stuck waiting until practice started to be able to do anything about that stupid picture.
“Did you?” Brandon demanded. He wasn’t as tall or as muscular as me, but he’d shoved me with as much strength as an NFL linebacker.
“No.” I lowered my voice so no one else would hear what we were talking about. “I swear. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Brandon didn’t budge; instead, he reached out and poked me in the chest. “You better figure out who did and get them to take it down.”
“I’m working on it, Brandon.” I emphasized the two syllables in his name as I said them. I shouldn’t have spoken to him that way—he was a teammate and he didn’t have anything to do with the bet—but he was all up in my face. More importantly, I didn’t want anyone else on the team to know something was up. The quicker I ended this conversation, the better.
Brandon glared and me and spoke through a clenched jaw. “Wren is the best person I know. She doesn’t need someone like you bringing her down. So you, Marissa, and whoever else are screwing with her need to stop.”
“Back off. I’ll handle it. And for your information—”
The shrill sound of Coach’s whistle erupted on the opposite side of the gym. “Fuller, Brandon, is there a problem?”
“No, sir,” we both responded in unison.
“Good. We’re already behind. Get those fifteen laps started.” He blew his whistle again, not taking his eyes off us.
Soon the echoes of shoes squeaking on the gymnasium floor rang in my ears. My heart rate picked up quicker than normal. My run-in with Brandon had left a knot in my stomach. I wouldn’t admit it to him, but I’d already planned on confronting TyShaun. Since Coach had given us an extra five laps, I’d have plenty of time to do it.
Slowing my pace, I waited for TyShaun to catch up. But before I could say something, Marc jogged up alongside me. “Nice job on pulling off the first part of the bet. I almost didn’t count it, but that stupid grin you had on your face sealed the deal.” He slapped me on the back before putting his head down and sprinting forward. My pulse raced and my mouth went dry.
A moment later, TyShaun passed me. I matched his stride and ran alongside him for a full lap, trying to calm down, before I opened my mouth. “I know it was you.”
TyShaun rolled his eyes and picked up the pace, leaving me behind.
Pushing my body, I caught up with him in a matter of seconds. The backs of my calves burned as we raced around the outer loop of the gym. “I know you took that photo, so you need to tell whoever runs that Instagram account to take it down. Now.”
He laughed. “Now? Are you serious? Coach isn’t going to let me skip out of laps to go slide into someone’s DMs.”
I bumped into his shoulder, shoving him to the left. “I’m serious, TyShaun. I don’t care what you need to do, but you have to tell whoever posted that picture to take it down immediately. Or else.”
“Are you threatening me?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Over Wrentainer? Man, you’ve got it bad for that weirdo.”
Clenching my fists, it took everything in me to stop myself from punching my teammate in the face. TyShaun never used to pull crap like this. He’d changed a lot since he’d started hanging out with Marissa. She was like a poison that contaminated everyone it came into contact with.
I winced. How pathetic was I for dating her for so long?
“Thinking about your girl?” TyShaun’s voice brought me back to reality.
“Get it down or I’ll give Coach the pictures of you doing keg stands at Marc’s party last weekend.”
TyShaun’s smile vanished. “Are you serious?”
“And if you mention this bet to anyone, not only will I give Coach those pictures, but I’ll figure out who runs that anonymous account and I’ll send them the pictures of you sucking face with Chantel Williams.” It was a well-kept secret that TyShaun had been hooking up with his older brother’s girlfriend, but I’d accidentally caught them in the act once. I was acting like a punk by threatening him, and I needed to stop, but this was for Wren.
His eyes narrowed in on mine. “You’re an asshole. You know that, Fuller?”
“Do it. Now.” I didn’t need to say anything else. The next time we passed the locker room, TyShaun told Coach that he’d be right back. He clutched his stomach, mocking a queasy feeling.
As he disappeared through the locker room doors, I put my head down and focused on the warm-up. My arms and legs pumped in unison for the remaining laps. By the time I’d reached number fifteen, TyShaun had reemerged. He gave me a subtle nod before circling up around Coach.
Good. Problem solved.
Coach instructed us to begin a series of passing drills. The guys broke up into pairs. Luckily, Jacob was on vacation today, so we had an odd number of guys on the court.
“Coach, I need to use the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right back.”
Coach frowned. “First TyShaun, now you? Is there a bug going around or something?”
“Ate something at lunch that isn’t sitting right.” I’d been lying way too much lately. But there was no way I could be honest with Coach about what was going on. Especially because it involved a nasty rumor being spread about his niece. People believed anything that went up on that stupid Instagram account, and the last thing Wren deserved was for our classmates to be gossiping about her, especially since it was my fault.
Brow furrowed, he nodded.
I raced into the locker room and opened up my locker. Fishing out my phone, I quickly opened up Instagram and looked for the post. It was gone. Thank goodness.
Pulling up my texts, I typed out a message to Wren.
My fingers flew across the keyboard. Even though I knew it was him, I couldn’t admit that TyShaun was the one who took the photo. That could lead her to confronting him, and even though I threatened him with exposing pictures of him and Chantel, he might still blab about the bet. I’d already hurt Wren enough. I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her cry again.
Nobody deserved to feel like that, ever.
The messages read, “Delivered,” but not, “Read.”
The door opened, causing my heart to jump. I shut my locker door, tucked the phone into my waistband, and ducked into a bathroom stall. If anyone caught me on my cell phone during practice and told Coach, I’d be running laps for the rest of the night.
Whoever it was left a few seconds later. To be safe, I stayed in the stall, standing next to the toilet and looking at my phone. Come on, Wren. Write me back. Feeling desperate, I typed out another message but quickly deleted it. There’s nothing else you can do. Time to suck it up and go back to practice. You can deal with the fallout once you get home.
I left the stall and headed back to my locker. Unfortunately, my little pep talk didn’t work, not even a little bit. Wren’s tear-soaked face was still on my mind. After checking for a response one more time and coming up empty, I reluctantly turned off my phone and shoved it back in my locker.
The intensity of the situation and emptiness of the locker room suddenly felt as though they were crushing my lungs. I dropped to my knees and sucked in the stale air that smelled of body odor and bleach. My heart hammered in my chest and the room started to tilt. Shit, was I having a panic attack or something? Closing my eyes, I forced myself to take several deep breaths. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, everything stopped spinning.
“Get it together, Fuller.” My voice sounded hoarse.
Clearing my throat, I got up, pulled the locker room door open, and was met with a rush of cool air.
“Feeling better, son?” Coach stood with a basketball tucked under his arm. His eyes were full of concern, and a deep line had formed across his forehead.
Before I could respond, my stomach clenched. I raised my hand to my mouth, but it was too late. My partially digested lunch splashed all over Coach’s shoes.