Tyler
“What happened between you and Dean Monroe?”
I dragged a hand over my face, nearly throwing my phone across the room from seeing that damn question for the hundredth time in less than forty eight hours.
“I mean, one minute you’re walking to Coach’s office, the next Dean’s neck is moving sideways.” Micheal’s voice came through the phone. “That s**t looked insane.”
He sounded more horrified than Dean had been under my fist in the hallway.
But I just laid back on my bed facing the wall, a pillow shoved beneath my head as I tried to grip the basketball tighter.
“Don’t you go silent on me, dude.”
“What the hell do you want me to say?” I asked, tossing the ball against the wall.
Thud.
Catch.
Pain shot through my right hand so sharply, it took a lot of effort not to groan.
“Fuc
