The Beautiful Game

Chapter Eight - Carter

      "Alpha Sigma aren't hosting; they've got some kind of inspection tomorrow morning." Seamus is shovelling oatmeal down his throat like it's his last meal.

      "Sororities?" Seamus raises one eyebrow at me.

      "Delta Nu are having something, but I doubt you'd be invited, therefore, Marcus and me, are not invited. Thanks for that."

     Ok, I deserved that. How was I supposed to know that those girls had been roommates?

     "This is just sad, senior year literally just started." Seamus sulks.

    "Fuck!" I wince, touching my fingers to my lip, scalded by a strawberry Pop Tart.

    "What?"

    "These things need to come with a warning." I hold the Pop Tart up.

    "They literally do man, it's the jam." I flip him off as he shakes his head, laughing. "Hey, how does Bob Marley like his doughnuts?"

     I ignore Seamus as I notice Marcus hasn't said anything the whole time he's been sat there, a deep frown on his face as his eyes are glued to someone's Instagram story. A smiling girl with jet black hair flashes up on his phone screen. Seamus notices and launches his spoon into the sink, the loud clatter jolting Marcus from his daydreaming. Honestly, he'd been quiet since he'd hooked up with that Ella chick almost two weeks ago. He'd made it clear that he didn't give a shit about her, he was on track for an offer to play NFL, same as me, it was our plan. But, he still just seemed off, distracted.

     "You ok?"

     "I'm fine."

     "You heard about anything going down tonight?" Seamus asks him, Marcus seems to clench his jaw before he answers.

      "No."

     "Alpha Tau Omega is having something on Saturday." Seamus continued, trying to skirt over the negative energy surrounding Marcus.

     "We play Indiana on Sunday; Coach will crucify you if you're hungover." Seamus just shrugs at me and slurps his Gatorade before going on.

     "The man wouldn't know! My best games are when I'm still three sheets to the wind."

     Seamus was as naturally gifted as they came, his sheer size and strength made up for his lack of concentration. Coach had said one year he was relieved Seamus was rooming with us, that we might be able to motivate the neanderthal. Seamus was a rich kid; his future never seemed to worry him, so of course, the crippling irony that he'd already had Chicago Bears and Minnesota Vikings coaches seeking out his game tapes.

     "Marcus? Dude, come on, is this about that girl? You're stalking her Instagram."

     "Fuck off, Carter." There's no humour in his voice as  he says it, and for the first time since we'd been friends, I see a look of violence in his eyes he only ever saves for our opposition. Was I the opposition now?

     He grabs a water bottle out the fridge and takes his keys off the hook. "I'll just see you guys at practise."

     Seamus salutes Marcus as he walks out the kitchen, towards the door. I spin on my kitchen stool.

    "I thought we were driving together, we both have 9am lectures."

    "Can't. I need to do something." He leaves without looking back.

     Seamus whistles low. "Guess he should come with a warning too."

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