Chapter 1: Wednesday-4
564 Words
Practice for the afternoon was over, as all the players were filing into the showers. Brian had hung around and stayed near the bathroom’s entrance.
Jacob walked up to him, shaking his head sadly. “That’s some bullshit right there, man. Some new kid walking in here acting like he owns the field.”
“It’s not right, man,” Noah agreed. He slapped Brian on the back and flung a sweaty arm around his shoulders.
Other teammates echoed his friends’ outrage in an attempt to make him feel better.
“Don’t sweat it,” Brian told his friends as though nothing in the world could faze him. He shucked off the arm around him and walked to the doors of the showers, casually leaning against it. “Don’t hang around, okay?” He eyed his friends to gauge if they got what he was really saying.
His friends nodded with understanding and headed into the showers. Brian hovered at the entrance and bided his time. Soon the only ones left in the showers were Brian and the new guy—alone and vulnerable.
Brian had shed his clothes and walked up to Oliver, coming up to him closely. Oliver had shampoo running down his face and turned up the water spray to get the soap out of his eyes. The commotion in the bathroom had died down to an eerie silence. Brian’s hand slipped into the guy’s tousled hair and increased its grip.
“What the hell?”
“What the f**k was that?” Brian said.
Oliver struggled against his grip. Brian yanked his head back and slowly pushed him forward, keeping his eyes out of the water spray, and enjoying seeing Oliver fight against the burn in his eyes. Oliver’s breath hitched, apparently deciding whether or not he should start to panic. He should.
“Why’d you do that to me?” Brian asked. He wasn’t so much upset at being tripped and falling over in front of everyone. It was what could have happened.
“That s**t is uncalled for, man. You don’t do things like to a fellow athlete. It could have been a career killer right there.”
Oliver didn’t say anything, and it pissed him off even more. Brian yanked his head back and pushed it forward hard, stopping a few inches from smashing his head against the wall. This time Oliver whimpered the slightest bit, and damn if it didn’t get Brian’s balls excited.
“Say something.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Yes, you are.” Brian increased his grip on his hair. “You’re sorry as hell. Who’s the faggot now?” he said. He pressed himself against the fleshy mounds of muscle. Brian yanked Oliver’s head back again and thrust it forward hard, again only inches from the slippery tiles.
“Answer me when I talk to you,” Brian said.
He pressed Oliver’s face against the tiles, threatening to increase the pressure and mashing his face against the wall.
“Me,” Oliver said, breathing hard.
Brian continued rubbing against the guy’s ass.
“Please. My eyes are burning.”
“That will be the least of your worries.” Brian looked over new guy’s shoulder. “Just as I thought.” He grinned at the growing excitement of the guy. He kicked Oliver’s left foot out from under him and let him sink to the ground.
Oliver rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the sting out of them.
“Just so we’re clear, you won’t be making a play for QB this season,” Brian stated, raising an eyebrow at the wet pile of mush on the shower floor. He kicked the guy hard against his liver and watched as he crumpled to the ground further. “I told you to answer me when I speak to you.”
“No,” he said.
“Thought so.” Brian left the showers with Oliver heaving on the ground, and didn’t look back.
- Writer
