Brad & Nick

chapter eleven: break-ups, hook-ups and other ups

I knew Dylan and Brad had a bad break-up. I knew Brad wasn't going to be gentle. The guy was terrible at breaking up with people. I remember in middle school, he used to make me break up with his girlfriends and boyfriends. I knew Dylan and Brad's relationship had met a gruesome demise as soon as school rolled around because Dylan had barely said two words to me ever since the weekend. During practice, he was much more aggressive towards me than usual. I thought it might have been in my head – that is until a soccer ball hit me square in the chest for about the third time.

"Dude!" I huffed finally fed up with his aggressive kicks. I walked out of the goalie net and straight towards him. "What the fuck is your problem?"

Dylan narrowed his eyes at me, shrugging. "What? Can't take a few balls?"

"Look I know you're pissed at Brad, but don't take it out on me! I have nothing to do with that," I snorted as Dylan wiped the sweat from his forehead. He sucked his teeth at me.

"You have nothing to do with it," Dylan muttered. "That's a laugh. So how long have you two have been screwing around?"

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head in disbelief. "Brad and I aren't screwing around."

"You're a fucking liar," Dylan said getting in my face. "You know I always knew there was something off about your friendship, and you know what I should have gone with my gut. I thought we were friends, Nick. But I guess that was just a fucking joke."

"I am your friend," I tried to explain. "Hell, I had a crush on you long before Brad did. Look I'm sorry you and Brad didn't work out, but don't drag me into this."

Dylan gave a hesitant laugh. "You've always been in this, Nick. Brad always ditches me for you. He's always talking about you, and how much fun you two have together. It's always been a constant competition between the two of us. You know what I'm glad it's over."

"Hey! Hey! Cut it out!" Coach shouted blowing his whistle at us. He walked over towards Dylan and I, stepping in between us for a second. It was safe to say he was pissed.

"That's a lie, Dylan," I snorted shaking my head at him. "That's a lie and you know it."

Dylan smirked. "Whatever you say, Nick."

"I said cut it out! You know what? Dylan, hit the showers! You're done," Coach huffed. "Go home until you cool off. Nick, you're doing hills. Go ahead. Maybe tomorrow you two can play nice."

"But Coach," I started to argue. He didn't say anything. He cut me off, blowing his whistle at me. I groaned running off of the field and onto the bleachers. Coach had his eyes on me, the entire time. It wasn't fair that Dylan had gotten to go home. What kind of punishment is that? I swear Coach hates me. He clearly sided with Dylan. Fucking Dylan. What did I ever see in that kid anyways?

I can't believe he said all of that shit about him being in constant competition with me. That was a fucking lie. Dylan was never in competition with me. Brad was with Dylan. Even before Dylan was there, Brad had someone or I had someone. We're best bros and we have been since we were in diapers, so naturally Brad would have a lot of stuff to say about me.

"Nick, what's this I hear about you and Dylan getting into it during practice?" Sam asked clutching his duffel bag in his hand. "Everyone's talking about it."

"He's just a bitter ex," I snorted. Sam stopped, his eyes flickering to mine for a second.

"You and Brad though? You really haven't done anything right?" Sam asked his eyes flickering to mine for a second. "I mean you wouldn't lie to me. Dylan is under the impression that you two are fucking each other."