Chapter Fourteen

Fuller

“Fuller, my man.” Spinning around, I came face-to-face with Marc.

“Oh, hey, Marc.” The high from kissing Wren faded as my teammate slapped his hand on my shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Word on the street is that you’re spending a lot of time with Wrentainer.” He grinned and motioned with his hips. “A lot of time.”

I shoved him, hard. “Don’t call her that.”

We used to joke around with each other all the time. Now I realized how immature we’d been.

“Sensitive subject I see.” He held up his hands in a surrender position and laughed. “Well, you’ve already got step one of the bet done. How’s the second part coming along? Is Wren ready to walk down the hallway holding your hand?”

“I want out of the bet.” I kept my voice low and calm.

Marc’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why?”

My mouth went dry. “It doesn’t matter. I want out, and Wren can never know about it.”

“No way!” Marc said with a grin. “You’re just trying to get out of wearing the wrestling singlet.”

“It’s not like that, but I need you to drop it. I’ll wear that stupid outfit for forty-eight hours straight if you promise me that you’ll never mention the bet to anyone ever again.”

“Holy crap,” he said in disbelief. “You actually like her. You’ve got it bad for Wrentainer.”

“I said, don’t call her that.”

Marc blinked several times before shaking his head. “So it’s true.”

“What is?”

“I never thought you’d fall for Wrenta— I mean, Wren. Marissa is going to blow a gasket when she finds out. You do know that she’s telling everyone you’re going to ask her to the Fall Harvest Dance.”

“I don’t give a crap.” Ignoring the cluster of freshmen in the hallway, I leaned in to my best friend. “I need to get out of the bet—now.”

“Like I said: no way.” Marc laughed and shook his head.

Losing my cool, I shoved Marc up against a locker. “Why the hell not?”

Marc’s eyes shot open. “What‘s your problem?”

A girl with black hair and braces stared at me, her mouth agape.

Aware that we had an audience and that I had one of my closest friends up against a locker, I let go of Marc’s shirt. “We’ll finish this later.”

As I stormed down the hallway, I tried to figure out how I could convince Marc to forget about the bet. A sinking feeling spread in my stomach. It wasn’t just him I’d need to convince, though—TyShaun knew about it, too.

I shoved the locker room door open. It rebounded off the wall with a thwack.

Get your crap together, Fuller. You can figure this out, but slamming doors open and throwing teammates up against lockers isn’t going to help anyone.

Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I made my way to my locker.

Just as I opened it, a hand reached out from behind me and smashed it shut.

“Marc, I’m sorry about earlier. I—”

Much to my surprise, Brandon’s face appeared instead of Marc’s. His features were tight and his entire face was beet red.

“Now’s not a good time, Edwards.” I tried to remain calm, but my adrenaline was already raging and my heart was thumping wildly in my chest.

Brandon grabbed me by the shoulder. “We need to talk.”

“Get your hands off me.” My chest heaved with each word.

“Somewhere private.” He let his hands fall to his sides.

I nodded toward the opposite side of the locker room. “Equipment room.” People were rarely in there. Especially once practice started for the season.

Flipping on the light, I waited for Brandon to pull the door shut behind us.

“I thought I told you to stay away from Wren.” He pushed his shoulders back and puffed out his chest. “She’s my best friend, and she doesn’t need some jackass leading her on.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really? Well then, explain what the hell it does look like, because I, for one, am confused.”

Rubbing my face with both hands, I exhaled loudly. “Look, I like her. A lot.” A huge weight lifted from my chest. “Seriously. I’m really into her.”

Brandon took a step back and blinked several times. “You’re what?”

“It’s complicated, though.”

Brandon jutted out his chin. “Complicated?”

“Brand, I’d never hurt Wren. All I need to do is get through this next week and a half. Then everything will be fine.” I took a step back, bumping into a net-like bag holding at least fifteen soccer balls.

“I don’t believe you.” Brandon shook his head.

“That’s on you. All you need to know is that I care about Wren.”

He crossed his arms. “All you need to know is that I’ll beat your ass if you do anything to hurt her.”

“Understood.” I only knew about one fight Brandon had ever been in and the other guy ended up with a black eye and bruised ribs. He didn’t mess around, and if I did anything to hurt Wren, I’d be in big trouble.