Changing Tides 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A throbbing pain starts rocking the boat between my temples. Throngs of students brush past me, their voices like nails on a chalkboard. A few women check me out as I pass by, but I can't focus enough to give them a courtesy once-over in return.

I push the door leading to the parking lot and am surprised to see Roland waiting for me after my final. His car is parked near the curb and he gives me a small, two-fingered wave.

"What are you doing here?" I ask after opening the door.

"Taking you to lunch to celebrate the end of finals."

I plop into the passenger's seat and carelessly toss my notes and my math book into Roland's tidy backseat. His gaze flickers to the rearview mirror, studying the damage and squinting with disapproval.

"I take it the final didn't go so well?"

He pulls away from the curb and starts making his way towards the main road leading into town. If it wasn't for finals, the traffic wouldn't be so congested, but as it stands, I'm breathing in more car exhaustion than air. I roll up the passenger window and crank up the AC. Meanwhile, my headache swells with unbearable pressure.

"This whole day has just kind of gone to shit," I answer honestly.

Even though practice went well this morning, it's been downhill since then - breakfast, whatever the hell you'd call that in the restaurant's bathroom, my final, and now this headache that's annoying enough to put lawnmowers on a Saturday morning to shame. Roland eases into the turning lane and purses his lips. It's the look he gets whenever something is on his mind.

After a moment of silence, I roll my eyes. "What is it, Roland?"

"What happened this morning at breakfast..." He hesitates with a pause and takes a moment to rephrase his question. "Bennett isn't trying to talk you out of trying out for the team, is he?"

I snort. "Not really."

Unless you'd call losing a bet and having to be fucked by him a form of talking. As much as I'm trying to repress the memory, what happened with Bennett earlier this morning tumbles back into the spotlight of my mind. It's like I can feel him, his soft lips pinning me against the wall with unforgiving pressure. I can almost smell his masculine scent traveling through my senses, and my body heats remembering the way he touched me.

Roland fidget's in the driver's seat. "Well, good. He can be a real jack ass. Honestly, I think the guy is just threatened by you, Trey."

I hum under my breath, not really sure how to respond. There's no reason for Bennett to be threatened by me. He already has a spot on the team. It is clear, however, that me being a part of that team is not on his list of priorities.

"So here's my dilemma," Roland starts again.

I sigh and lean my head back into the seat. "If you tell me we have a pop-quiz afternoon practice, my response will be to fuck off."

Roland gracefully presses down on the turn signal. "Not exactly. After what happened this morning, I'd like it if we had as minimal contact with Bennett as possible. He's going to try to get into your head, and that's the last thing you need poisoning your mind before try-outs."

"Preachin' to the choir here, Rolls."

"On the other hand," Roland says, drawing out the word. "I just got a text from Erik that they're having a team party tonight."

He pauses to gauge my reaction. The first thing that pops into my head is that if I go to this lame ass party, I'll have an excuse to drink alcohol – even it is in the company of a few assholes. Alright, not a few. Just one.