Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Jeremy Knox is no stranger to damage control, but his last season on an Exy court is off to a disastrous start. The relentless crusade against his newest teammate threatens the haven he and his friends have worked so hard to build. He promised Jean a fun senior year, but tragedy and ugly truths make every step forward an uphill fight.
Jean Moreau promised the USC Trojans a championship trophy, and he intends to deliver. Granted, it would be significantly easier if they’d slide off their high horses and throw a few elbows on the court. Their steadfast refusal to do things his way is nearly as aggravating as their unwanted affection, but maybe they’re not the ones that need to change.
With so many ready to drag him down, how can he learn to fly?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
Jean
Friday morning practice started with a brief team meeting. As each Trojan arrived, one of the coaches was on hand to redirect them to the huddle rooms. “Whichever one has seats” was the only directive they received, but for the most part the players segregated themselves by offense and defense out of habit.
Unsurprisingly, striker Ananya Deshmukh had eschewed the status quo to sit with Cody Winter and her fiancé Patrick Toppings, both of whom were backliners. Movement in the doorway had her looking up to check the newest arrivals, and her jaw dropped when she saw Jean Moreau’s battered face.
“Good lord,” she said, too loudly, and all eyes swung his way.
Catalina Alvarez briefly pressed a shoulder against his arm, but Jean didn’t care if they looked. He’d been a bruised and bloodied mess most of his career with the Ravens. His former teammates were quick to mock him and quicker to take advantage of his weakened state on the court, but they knew better than to ask questions. Most of them assumed his injuries were due to the master’s displeasure, especially since the perfect Court was called away daily for private sessions. Whether or not they truly believed it or simply refused to think critically of their beloved captain, Jean would never know.
“We left you alone for twelve hours,” Pat said. “Did you get hit by a car or something?”
A stupid question deserved a stupid answer, so Jean said, “Yes.”
“We’re going to talk about it, I’m sure,” Jeremy Knox said. He’d preceded Jean into the room, but now he was half-turned to study Jean’s distant expression. He said nothing else, but Jean saw the question in his searching look. Jean didn’t waste his breath responding but stepped toward him and sent one last glance around the room. Lucas Johnson and his friends were yet to make an appearance, but as far as Jean could tell the rest of the defense line was accounted for.
The room was arranged as five rows of five seats each, with a table at the front for Coach Jimenez to use as needed. Sophomores William Foster and Jesus Rivera were in the first row with the over-eager freshmen, though they were now all turned to unabashedly stare at Jean. Cody’s lot had claimed the second row, and fifth-year Shawn Anderson was in the fourth with Shane Reed. Those two had nothing to say yet, but their stares were heavy and unwavering. Jean’s injuries only benefited one of them, the man whose spot he planned on taking this season, so Jean didn’t waste his time returning their searching looks.
Jeremy led Jean and Cat down the third row so he could take a seat behind Ananya. Cat gave Cody’s shaved hair an affectionate scritch when she ended up behind them, but Cody was too busy staring at Jean to greet her. The three had just gotten settled when Laila Dermott arrived. She’d detoured by the lockers alone to put their lunch away, but now she took the chair on Cat’s other side and said, “Lucas is here.”
It was a split-second warning before Lucas finally stepped through the doorway, and the entire mood in the room shifted. Shane was on his feet immediately with an alarmed, “Jesus Christ, Lucas.”
The hours since Grayson’s visit had been unkind to them both: reddened skin and faint shadows had bloomed into technicolored bruises that covered too much of their faces. Both of Lucas’s eyes were blackened, courtesy of his broken nose, and Jean had long scratches down his face from cruel fingernails. Lucas hadn’t bothered to cover anything up, and Jean had only slowed long enough this morning to tape new gauze over the teeth marks left on his throat and wrist.
“This has to stop,” Shane said, looking between them. “You’re teammates, for god’s sake.”
“Shane,” Jeremy started, but Lucas beat him to the punch:
“We didn’t do this,” Lucas said as he led Travis Jordan and Haoyu Liu onto the fourth row. Because Shane and Shawn had gotten there first, it forced Lucas into the open seat behind Jean. Jean didn’t feel like turning far enough to keep an eye on him, so he folded his arms across his chest and faced the front of the room. Lucas stopped behind him but didn’t sit until he corrected himself with a quieter, “He didn’t. I did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shane asked. “Jeremy? Jean?”
Jeremy was still turned enough to see the door, so he just said, “Coach.”
Eduardo Jimenez entered the room with Jackie Lisinski only a few steps behind him. Since neither James Rhemann nor Michael White showed up, Jean assumed they were handling the other room. Lisinski’s face was a thundercloud, but Jimenez’s expression was harder to read. The defensive line coach did a quick headcount before slapping a folder against his palm.
“Good morning,” he said. “Couple quick announcements and then we’ll get you back on track. First things first: Lucas and Jean will be on no-touch jerseys until further notice and will not be participating in scrimmages today.”