S.M. ✦ Gin & Juice

VII.

"Look, Shawn," Coach seethed, the bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and pointer finger, "I don't know what's going on with you, but I need you to snap the fuck out of it. We have three games before the postseason. I need you to be focused on football and forgetting whatever personal bullshit you're bringing onto my field."

Shawn's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to argue, but Coach shut him down, "No, don't argue. After that shit I just saw on my sideline, you're lucky I'm not suspending your ass. I know that Brian provoked you. Other players came up to me in your defense. But, people saw. And your little girlfriend hiding in the stands didn't help the situation. What the fuck, Mendes?! Do I need to review that practices are closed to any and all distractions? THAT INCLUDES PUSSY."

Some spit landed on the desk when he finished punctuating this last point. Shawn hung his head, not knowing what to do. He didn't regret throwing that punch. He regretted not knocking him the fuck out.

When he heard the loud crack from Brian's helmet hitting the ground, Shawn had to stifle an eye roll. The guy had always been a hot head and it only got worse last year when he had lost the QB1 spot to a freshman. "HEY, MENDES," he shouted, predictably pissed that a little water had hit him, "I saw your little whore with you last night."

Shawn whipped around, red threatening at the edge of his vision. "What the fuck did you say, asshole?!" He moved toward Brian, trying to control his rage, shaking slightly at the implications this fucker was making about her. Brian smirked, getting the reaction that he wanted from him, "Oh yeah, I saw you stumbling up the stairs with her at the house."

Shawn stood there, feeling the rest of the team circling in his periphery. The whispers were reaching deafening levels around him. They had all seen her. He could feel his fingers curl into fists, shaking just a little more violently, fighting for control at his sides. Brian fed off of them, getting right up in Shawn's face, "I guess she's your pity fuck on speed dial there to suck your dick when you choke on a wide open pass. She must be something desperate to come to you when you're the reason we're fucked for playoffs now."

Shawn could feel the rage spreading, numbing his face, his chest, his arms. The adrenaline coursing quickly through his veins, he was deaf to Brian's words after that, hearing only a buzzing that was intensifying by the second. Somewhere between the words "overrated pretty boy" and "glad you had a hole available to finish something in," his fist twitched and the scarlet tendrils threatening his vision finally closed in.

"SHAWN!" Her voice cut through his red haze, receding to oversaturated blue and green. Brian was on the ground holding his nose against the crimson fountain spewing from it, looking at Shawn's fist dripping blood onto the turf. Everyone had turned their eyes toward the scream from a high spot in the bleachers, where he could just make out her frame, arm outstretched as if she could have stopped him if she had only been a little closer.

A hard fist against the desk in front of him pulled Shawn from his instant replay, "MENDES?! Jesus, I'm benching you for the first half of this week's game. Did you hear that? Or were you too busy daydreaming?" He had gone back to pinching the bridge of his nose. "Get out of my office and don't come to practice tomorrow. You better have your shit together before you come back," he paused, sighing, "you're supposed to be my guy. ARE YOU STILL MY GUY?!"

"Yeah, Coach," he said, eyes on the floor, embarrassed, "I'm still your guy. I promise I'll be ready for the second half on Saturday."

"You fuckin' well better be. We have a championship to win." Coach waved him out, disappointed and dismissive, two things Shawn had never caused on a coach's face in his years of playing football. Walking out of the locker room, he vacillated between ashamed and pissed. He'd never lost his cool like that in practice. Usually, the shit people said just rolled off, and if Brian had just been talking about his shitty game that would have been one thing. But, when he brought her into it—made it a point that he'd seen her and then called her a whore—Shawn hadn't been able to control the bitter, hot rage that burned the back of his throat.