It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes, but I have more important things to focus on.

Sawyer: What about my stuff?

It takes her five whole minutes to respond.

Bianca: In the boys’ locker room.

Weird Casey would choose that location, but whatever.

My stomach sinks when my phone pings again.

Bianca: In the toilet.

Awesome sauce.

The overpowering smell of sweat and musk with a twinge of onion invades my nostrils the second I enter the locker room.

Holding my breath, I make a beeline for the stalls.

My stomach falls when I open the last one and find my purse in the toilet. Just like Bianca said.

“Perfect,” I mutter aloud.

On the bright side, my backpack was too big to join the party, so my notes and books are unscathed.

For a brief moment I debate leaving my purse right where it is, but then I remember my car keys are in it.

With a disgusted sigh, I slowly lower my hand into the bowl.

I freeze when I hear heavy footsteps followed by the sound of deep voices.

Chapter 9

Cole

“Casey was looking hot as fuck during practice today,” Cortland jeers as we make our way to the locker room. “Now that she dumped Cole’s ass, I wonder if she’d let me hit it.”

Between getting my ass reamed out by Coach Stalter for getting sacked multiple times during practice, the bullshit rumors Casey started, and Cortland taking the opportunity to be an even bigger dick than usual today—I’m on my last thread.

“Come on, brother,” Dwight chimes in. “Is your dick so desperate you’d fuck that two-timing slut?”

Cortland peers at him like he sprouted another head. “Hell yeah. It’s not like the bitch cheated on me.” Scoffing, he looks around. “Besides, she only cheated because Covington here doesn’t know how to use his coc—”

I lunge at him before he can finish that sentence.

“Shut the fuck up before I make you swallow your tongue.”

I’m about to launch my fist into his face, but someone grabs both my arms.

“Coach already ripped you a new one today, don’t give him a reason to do it again.”

Lennox. Not only is he the voice of reason on the team, he’s a big motherfucker.

Only way I’m getting out of his ironclad grip is if I dislocate my shoulder.

However, I’m not about to back down.

Not until I clear up a few things and put the douchebag in his place.

“On second thought, I think we’d all like to see you try and hit it with that pencil in your pants you call a dick.”

A few snickers erupt around the locker room and Cortland’s face takes on a maroon color, but I’m not finished yet.

“In case you’re too stupid to catch on, numbnuts, the rumors Casey’s spreading are bullshit. She’s only doing it because she’s bitter about me kicking her ass to the curb.” Lennox releases me and I lock eyes with the shitbag. “But go right ahead and have a crack at her.” Grinning, I slap his back. “Everyone knows I can have any pussy I want whenever I want, so it’s no skin off my balls. Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

More snickers break out as I turn to my locker.

“You can have any pussy you want, huh?”

There’s no hiding the mocking glint in his tone.

Normally, I’d ignore it, but thanks to my cunt of an ex, I’m in danger of people mistaking me for low hanging fruit.

Folding my arms across my chest, I face him. “Yeah, why? Does your mom want to suck me off in the library after school again?”

Cortland’s mom is a History teacher at RHA.

But more importantly, she’s hot as fuck.

“Damn,” Lennox exclaims as Cortland’s face turns ashen. “You ain’t right, Covington.”

That may be true, but I have no regrets about hooking up with her last year.

Or the low blow I just dealt my teammate.

It’s all I can do not to laugh when he shoves me. “She wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, asshole.”

I lean against my locker. “Ten-foot pole, no. My nine-inch dick on the other hand—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he roars. “You think you’re such hot shit, but you’re not.” Dwight gets between us when he attempts to shove me again. “Newsflash, Covington. You aren’t that talented on the field, and you aren’t half the pussy magnet you think you are around here.”

The fucker clearly lost some brain cells during practice. “Then you must be deaf, dumb, and blind…in addition to ugly.”

I expect him to lunge at me once more, but to my surprise he concedes. “You know, maybe you’re right.”

The taunting bite in his tone makes my teeth rattle.

Sensing something is about to go down, everyone’s eyes zero in on our exchange.

“Glad that’s settled.” I pull a towel out of my locker. “Good talk.”

It’s not the most cunning remark, but it’s one that will put this shit to rest.

Until I hear the next words out of his mouth.

“Care to bet on it?”

I glare at him. “Bet on what?”

“You said you could have any pussy you want. I’m calling bullshit.”

Oh, hell. Proving him wrong will be a piece of cake.

“Well in that case, get ready to lose.”

Dwight rubs his hands, excitement gleaming in his eyes. “Hold up. You can’t agree to a bet without discussing the terms first.”

Cortland nods. “He’s right.” He narrows his eyes. “If you lose, I get your car.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Stunned silence spreads over the locker room for a good thirty seconds.

Lennox sucks in a breath. “Boy, are you crazy?”

“He must be.” My lip curls with irritation. “That’s a two-million-dollar LaFerrari.”

There are less than a dozen of them in the world and I’ll be damned if Cortland thinks he’s going to get his grubby little hands on mine.

The bastard in question keeps his expression neutral. “Listen, if you don’t think you can—”

“Oh, I can,” I bark before my brain can stop me. “However, there’s just one problem…for you.”

Wariness passes in his gaze. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Given I get more ass than a toilet seat.” I flash some teeth. “Your mom’s included, I’m not really sure who else—”

I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence before he declares, “Sawyer Church.”

“The Jesus freak?” someone calls out.

“Thought you already tapped that ass?” another guy yells.

“You mean that fat ass,” someone all the way in the back hollers.

A few cackles erupt and Cortland smiles snidely.

“Nah. If memory serves, you were with Casey that night.” Cortland rubs his chin, assessing me. “Right?”

Fuck. Talk about a catch-22.