Vile Intentions: A Dark Sports Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  He draws nearer, his eyes never leaving mine as he takes in as much of me as he can. He smiles. “You’re actually early for practice. Heck, you’re here and seemingly sober. This is good news all around.” Stepping right up to me, he slaps my back. “It’s good to see you buddy. Let’s go kick some butt.” A grin splits his face before he starts looking around as if he was expecting to see someone else, but I throw my bag over my shoulder and head for the building. This isn’t really the conversation I want to have.

  “Where’s Beth?” he asks, and I feel my insides cringe at the mention of her name. Shit. I should have bolted away from him when I had the chance.

  Deep breath in. Long exhale out. “She’ll be here later,” I respond, keeping my voice steady and trying to look like I’ve got my shit together. Coach nods, seemingly satisfied. The truth is, I haven’t got a fucking clue whether Beth will be here or not. Sure, Collin had suggested that she come to my games and take photos and all that jazz, but that was before all this drama unfolded. As much as I want to shy away from facing her, a part of me really fucking hopes she shows up.

  I chuckle to myself at the realization that I’ve completely lost my marbles. I actually want to see Bethany Hendrickson, at my game.

  The world has gone to complete shit and I’m officially a sucker.

  Still, I can’t seem to wipe the smirk off my face as I think about her and, if the smile on Coach’s face is anything to go by, I think maybe he knows what’s happening to me. Probably more than I actually understand myself.

  The cheerleaders are already on the ice practicing their pre-game routine. I spot my usual troublemakers, skating around on the ice with their pom-poms and short skirts.

  Suzie is the first to turn her eyes to me. She waves and Jessica, noticing the movement beside her, looks up. There’s a sheepish smile on her face, letting me know that she’s still willing and ready to do whatever it takes to get back into my good graces. I nod back at them before heading to the lockers.

  Jessica has been surprisingly well-behaved these last few days. Something that is very much unlike her. It makes me think that maybe I should be worried. But then again, should I be? What real harm can she actually do? Spill another drink on someone?

  She’s not that big a headache. Suzie seems to have moved on to another victim and knowing the sister-wives dynamic between her and Jessica, Jess will probably, hopefully, reattach herself to that unfortunate bloke.

  When I enter the locker room, Jared is already sitting on a bench with his stink face painted on, glaring at me. Some things never change.

  “It really is a beautiful day outside, mate. You should probably inform your face.” I smirk at him as I move to my locker, but his only response is to hiss at me. A part of me gets it. I’d never be happy being second best, either. But, that’s the thing that differentiates the two of us. Instead of working his ass off to beat me, he’d rather pout around like a little bitch.

  Ethan and Marco come in shortly after me, followed by the rest of the team.

  “I can’t believe you made it here before me, English man,” Ethan jokes and I grin back, throwing a fake punch at his stomach which he blocks.

  “You’re in a good mood.” Marco raises a brow and shakes his head at me. His eyes hold within them a question. I’d give him the answer if I knew how to put into words what the hell is happening to me. I’m still not exactly convinced that as much of this has to do with Beth as my brain wants to give her credit for.

  “Pre-game Euphoria,” I say, playing it off with natural ease. “It’s a big day, buddy. Everything hinges on today. I can’t wait to get out there and smoke some tail.” I clap him on the back and roar, a lion ready to make the world his jungle. The sound incites a round of cheers and whoops as my teammates put vocals to the adrenaline coursing through their veins.

  In the midst of my celebration, the cell in my pocket rings, catching me a little off guard. I pull the phone into my hand and take a look at the number on the screen. It’s not one I recognize, but rather than hanging up, I step outside to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Is this Maverick?” There’s an unfamiliar male voice on the other end of the phone. It’s older. A bit rough, but polite, nonetheless.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Christopher,” the person says, pausing for a moment before clarifying. “Bethany’s father.”

  I can feel my back stiffening. “Oh.” It’s all I manage to say.

  “I spoke with my daughter this morning and she gave me your number.”

  I nod silently, though I know he can’t see me.

  “I’d like to meet with you if you don’t mind.” Shit. Beth and her perfect, caring, involved family. They’re the kinds of people who make it hard to say ‘no’, even when your better judgement tells you that you should. Her father doesn’t sound like a killer. Doesn’t look like one either. But I wouldn’t doubt that he’s the kind of man who would wrap his hands around another man’s throat if it meant reclaiming his daughter’s happiness.

  “Now’s not a good time,” I say, not because I’m planning on avoiding him. At least not forever. “I’m uh… at the school. I’ve got a game.”

  I stumble over my words. What is it about this unnaturally calm man that makes me so nervous?

  “I know. I’m already outside. It won’t take long. I just prefer to do things man to man,” he says and my respect for him goes up another notch. So does my fear.

  “Okay. I’ll be out in a second.”

  30

  Waking up in Maverick’s bed this morning was not at all how I intended to start my day, but the sadness I felt when I realized he wasn’t there was even more unexpected.

  I don’t anticipate that he’ll be any less of a jerk to me today just because I knew his mom. The thing is, however, now that I’ve seen his sensitive side, I can’t unsee it. Slowly, but surely, Maverick is becoming less and less of a monster to me. Hell, right now, despite him skipping out without so much as a good morning, I’m starting to think that maybe he’s not a monster at all. The thought scares me more than the threat of having my ass set on fire.

  Needing to push Maverick to the back of my mind and focus on the only people in my life that have always been by my side, I decided to call my father. My phone call with him was as pleasant a conversation as I could have hoped for. I can only pray he wasn’t too detailed with Maverick before the game. I need him to do well, just as much as he needs to do well. I’d hesitated giving my father the number, but that had a lot more to do with me fearing Maverick’s reaction and how such an ambush might affect him before the game. Truth is, my father isn’t the grim reaper. He’s reasonable, kind and he deserved to get some clarity on the situation I thrusted at him. If Maverick wants to attack me about it later, then so be it.

  There’s a half an hour before game time when I walk into the school yard among the boisterous throng of supporters. I can count on one hand how many games I’ve been to since starting this school. It’s not that I don’t like hockey, I’m sure under the right circumstances I could find it interesting. I’ve just never had the time. I was always at violin rehearsals, doubling down on my school work, or busting my ass at my job. That had been the story of my life for quite some time now. No time to waste. No extra breaths to take. Just me and a schedule that, more often than not, felt like it was seconds away from breaking my back.

  It’s strange how just being here for a silly game has me feeling like I’ve beaten the system and found a way to get my eyes just above the poverty line so I can see what’s on the other side.

  The smile on my face falls as I round the corner and see Maverick in the hallway deep in conversation with a vixen whose back is turned to me.

  My legs suddenly feel like there are bricks strapped to my ankles and I have to avert my eyes to not let the weight of walking show on my face. She’s really tall and from her skimpy outfit I can tell she’s a cheerleader. Her body radiates a confidence that makes me feel inferior
and the smirk on Maverick’s face as she gently caresses his shoulder, feels like a fork spinning my intestines around like last night’s spaghetti.

  I quickly walk past them, trying to remain unseen in the crowd, but with my luck, I slam right into Jessica who is never thrilled to see me, but who seems even more livid today than she usually is.

  She grabs my wrists and yanks me into the nearby bathroom, shoving me up against the wall.

  “What the hell are you up to, peasant?” She scowls at me, with her long bony finger pointed in my face. My heart is racing from the adrenaline rush and I shake my head at her, still trying to catch my breath. I’m not the kind of girl to fight, but everything about this situation has my fingernails wanting to scratch her beady little eyes out.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Jessica,” I hiss. She takes a step back, looking me up and down in obvious disgust.

  “Don’t give me that innocent act, you pathetic bitch,” she curses, taking a step towards me. I move towards her, unwilling to back down from her challenge. Maverick may not defend me, but for once in my life, I damn sure am going to defend myself.

  “I said I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I repeat, clenching my fist.

  She sucks in a breath and her nostrils flare as the air is pulled in. “How did you do it?” she asks with a wild look in both her cloudy grey eyes.

  “Do what, exactly?” I ask. My eyes don’t leave hers. Girls like her, with so little to lose, don’t have a line they aren’t willing to cross.

  “Stop acting coy. I know you’re fucking Maverick,” she spits and the impact of her words feel like a truck ramming against the muscle in my chest. By the grace of the Almighty, I manage to keep my cool. “I know you’re fucking Maverick,” she repeats, then shakes her head. “Which makes no sense because you are literal trash and he despises you. So how the fuck did you do it? Huh? Did you cast some kind of spell on him? Is that why he doesn’t want to see me anymore? Are you a fucking witch, Bethany?” Jessica’s voice is shrill, but it’s breaking with each octave she climbs. Slowly, but surely, she’s unravelling in front of me. So much so that I actually think I might be feeling sorry for her.

  My fingers uncurl from their battle position and I fold my arms across my chest. “No. I did not and no we are not,” I say as calmly as I can.

  “Then why were you calling him the other day?”

  “What?”

  “He’s got your number saved in his phone.”

  Ah, so it was her on the other end. My brains rocks back and forth, searching for words to feed my lips – words that sounds at least a little believable.

  “What makes you think it was me?” I ask, when no other words come.

  She scoffs at me then rolls her eyes, but I maintain a straight face. I’ve never been much of a liar. But it turns out there are some things you don’t need to practice in order to be good at.

  “Like you’ve told me from day one, I’m just a meaningless nobody and you just said it yourself, Maverick despises me.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, my stomach tightens, cutting off the blood flow from my heart.

  “I am not the only Bethany in New York, Jessica and I’m quite sure if anyone knows them all, it would be Maverick.”

  Jessica pauses for a second as if considering my words. After a short while, she nods, her cheeks blooming red for a split second.

  “Don’t you need to be on the ice soon?” I ask her and she gasps before sprinting out of the bathroom, reality finally sinking its claws into her once again.

  She’s completely unhinged, and I don’t know if I should be scared for myself or concerned for her, but either way I’m pretty sure she needs help. For now, however, I’m free of her gaze and rage and venom.

  The shuffling of feet on the other side of the door has receded and I’m hoping Maverick and miss barely dressed have wrapped up their conversation and gone about their business.

  Quietly, I pull the door open and peek out to check if the coast is clear, and it is…for the most part. As I quietly make my way toward the stadium, I overhear two voices in a small passageway leading to Coach’s office.

  “Did you get his skates?” The female asks, her voice ripe with excited anticipation. There’s a small pause left for the other person to answer, but no words come. My ears are perked, my heart thrashing against my chest, like whatever they’re saying should cause panic to roar inside of me. “Did you do it?” the female voice asks again. “I’m pretty sure I bought you enough time to at least crack the blade.”

  There’s a low chuckle followed by arrogance. “Yeah. Of course I did it. By the end of the game everything will be as it should be, and we won’t have to worry about the English man anymore.”

  Fuck.

  Double fuck.

  My mind spins, rotating around whether or not I should take what I heard as gold or consider not believing my own ears. How many braincells do you have to be missing to talk be discussing shit like that right in the open, anyway?

  “Good,” the female whispers and I hear what I assume is kissing before Jared, the bastard, walks out and heads towards Coach’s office.

  A few seconds later, the female steps into the hallway and my stomach bottoms out.

  It’s her. She’s the same person from the supermarket. I would know that hair anywhere. It’s the same head of hair I spotted leaning up against Maverick when I got here. The same spotless skin, exposed and shimmering.

  She glances up the hallway and before I can draw myself back into a hidden corner, her eyes are on me. Rather than saying anything, she flips her hair over her shoulder and totters away in the opposite direction from the other scum bag, looking graceful as ever as she goes on her way to take Maverick down.

  Christ.

  These people are worse than I thought. They’re not just pulling some stupid prank. They’re trying to ruin his career, his future. A part of me can’t believe they’d do that to one of their own. The other part of me isn’t surprised at all. But still, this is Maverick we’re talking about. He’s not the kind of guy who gets bullied. Even as the thought runs through my mind, I know better than to think nothing of what I’ve just heard.

  I rush to the locker room and peek inside, happier than a pig in shit when I find it empty. I don’t imagine I have a lot of time before the guys come barreling in.

  My eyes glance around frantically as I try to find Maverick’s locker.

  This is certainly not what I’m being paid for. And honestly, if anyone deserves to be poked and prodded a little, I’d be a fool to say Maverick shouldn’t be very high on the list. But what pumped up Barbie and shithead Jared are planning, it’s one hundred percent next level.

  I finally find the locker with his name scribbled on the handle. Without thinking, I dig around in his bag for his skates before walking down to the stand with them tucked under my hoodie.

  “Sorry Maverick. It’s for your own good. I swear.” I mumble the words, knowing that I’m way out of my league here. If he can’t find his skates he’ll have to borrow someone else’s. He’ll be angry, but at least he won’t fuck up out there.

  Taking a seat, I wait for all hell to break loose.

  The cheer teams from both schools make their way to the rink, throwing pompoms around and getting the crowd riled up for an “exciting” faceoff.

  They have no idea just how eventful it’s about to be.

  After a few minutes of watching synchronized routines, another round of screams and hoots erupt. All eyes are wide with anticipation, watching as the visiting team makes their way down the steps and onto the rink.

  My heart crashes into the walls of my chest like a trapped songbird. I keep glancing behind me, waiting patiently for our team to appear. To see the look on Maverick’s face. To see if he’s managed to get new skates. To see how mad he is. I’m fucking nervous.

  When our team walks into the crowds, something clicks. Something evil, sinister, possible ruthless and a heck
of a lot unlike me. I jump up with the rest of the crowd and wait for Jared to get close enough to throw myself in front of him. His gear goes crashing down beside me, now dramatically sprawled out on the floor.

  “What the fuck!” he bellows at me and the preppies everywhere start booing.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, playing everything the part of the poor, clumsy girl trying to make rights of her wrongs. I’m on my knees, handing Jared his helmet and skates, moving in a very much planned frenzy. He grabs each item from my hands without so much as a glance at me that he doesn’t even notice when I make the swap. With all his belongings now in tow, he continues down to the ice.

  Hurriedly, I rush away from the stands, taking the steps two at a time as I race toward the locker room where I expect to find a furious Maverick, having a severe melt down over not finding his skates.

  31

  Of all the things and of all the days, now is not the fucking time for my skates to go missing.

  I’ve tossed through every can, every bag, every locker and nothing!

  My knuckles sing out when I throw a punch into the locker beside me. So many things flash before my eyes.

  The end of my career.

  The end of my reputation.

  The end of the only drop of happiness this world has ever offered me.

  Somebody here is trying to fuck up my whole life. In-house rivalry is one thing, but this is taking it way too far.

  I need to get out on that ice.

  Fuck!

  My brain twists and turns, trying to make some sense of this damn situation. All the guys had been present for Coach’s pow-wow when he told us that the recruiters are already here; when he told us that we needed to play the best fucking game of our lives. There’s no way it could have been one of my teammates. No way. With so much at stake I’d be damned if today isn’t my day to shine.