Beacon in the Darkness

19. Storm

The scent of fresh cut grass lingered in the air. Shawn tried to concentrate on nothing but the turf under his feet, the players surrounding him, and the ball sitting on the center line. The spectators didn't exist. There were no bleachers, no cars passing on the street parallel to the fields, and no children playing on the park nearby. He couldn't hear the screeches of joy, the blaring of horns, or the muted cheers. All of his energy, his mind, his strength, centered on the activity contained within the white lines surrounding him.

Ten players wore the same colors he did, two at his sides and eight behind him. All with the same goals in mind.

Defend.

Block.

Score.

Eleven others stood opposite him, facing off inside the same four chalked barriers. One of them glared at Shawn, a blossoming purple bruise staining his jaw. A small grin tugged at the corner of Shawn's mouth, a sting radiating from the small cut in his lower lip. He ran his tongue over the broken flesh briefly, almost as if he could still taste the blood, the victory he had over the douche across from him.

"Hell, Mendes," Zayn said. "What crawled up Carter's ass?" He gestured across the field to a glaring Vance.

Shawn grinned larger. "My foot. Or more specifically, my fist to his assbag face."

"You clocked Vance? Why?"

Shawn turned toward Zayn, exposing his full face to him and pointing to his lip. "He hit me first."

"What did you do to him?"

Shawn scowled. "I didn't do anything. I caught him cornering Camila against the shed behind the bleachers."

"What?" Zayn's eyes widened.

"Damn doucheclown," Shawn muttered, "had her trapped between him and the wall. He's lucky I didn't do worse than that."

"Was he—" Zayn glared across the field and lowered his voice, turning toward Shawn. "Was he the one who ..."

Shawn looked at Zayn. "You know about that?"

"I was best friends with her brother, of course I know. Carlos just never told me who." He studied Shawn curiously. "How do you know?"

"She told me."

"She talks to you about stuff like that?"

A whistle blew and the ref stepped out into the field, relieving Shawn of having to answer Zayn. He took his position behind the ball, hunched over and ready to play, one hand lying loosely against his back and the other hanging limp at his side. Zayn stood several feet away, his toe on the line waiting for Shawn's pass. In that moment, Shawn let his mind clear of everything once more, though he held onto the anger coursing through his veins. He'd found many times before he played better when pissed. And that day, his fury took on a whole new meaning. He wanted to bury Vance, throw him to the ground and rub his face into the dirt. He wanted to make sure he never had the opportunity or ability to hurt Camila ever again. But that would have to wait for another time, right now was the time to kick his ass on the field.