𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘: 𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝

Chapter 5: Wentworth Miller

"I can't believe there are people like him in the world." standing, monitoring and unofficially co-captaining beside me, Starks complained and shook his head. From the sidelines of the field both our eyes followed the new player's movements. "I mean what the actual fuck." Starks continued to rant. In my silence he continued, "Look at him. He showed up late, took over the plays and now he's strutting about as though the field is his."

It seemed that Stark's comments made Quinton aware of us from the distance.

The former Timberwolves Captain and tight end's features slipped from field focused to unreadable when he stared at us. Then they drew into a smug overconfident expression before he passed a tough play. He gloated by sending me a salute and one playful wink. Just as quickly he went back to basking in the attention from the rest of the team that had surrounded him.

"Was that me or you he winked at?" Starks asked around an unbelieving tone to his unimpressed voice. "Ugh, the ghetto. I have a girlfriend."

Instead of answering, I blew out my whistle and as per Coach's instruction I cut short practice. "All right Rafters! Round up and come closer."

"You heard the man! Every one of you shitheads have five seconds to get your shit in order." Starks who was the unofficial authority vying for the co-captain position helped to round up the players for me.

Our teammates, put down their gears and left their posts so in less than a minute they were all around me.

"Aye aye captain." Quinton sang, dangling his blue helmet in his right hand. "Anything you want." his flirty tone and the way he let his gaze roam my body top to bottom made my skin burn. Not with infatuation or desire but instant dislike. His arrogance, entitlement and come hither personality were as self announcing as it were infuriating. 

It had all been demonstrated in the first thirty seconds we all met him in the locker before practice. He'd been late by close to an hour regardless of how he knew today's field time had been for his benefit. Instead of apologizing for holding up the team, he'd sauntered in with a rolled up weed stick dangling between his lips and airpods that spilt rap music. When he took them out he chose to learn about what time training would end, instead of greeting is new teammates.

Everything about him irritated me but I couldn't wear my emotional reactions for the world to see. So instead of paying his remark attention, I looked back to face the team. "I called you all here because coach has a few things he wants to say to us. Coach?" I turned holding out the playbook back to him.

Coach Whitey came closer, with the grin of a happy father he walked towards us, his stomach in the lead and received the playbook. The man touched the bill of his cap and took it off. "Good work out there Rafters, though today's practice wasn't about that. We have a new player to welcome and I figured a warm up game with him would get you all to see what we saw in him. Right Will?"

Will the assistant coach wore his best and widest grin- the grin that had made me crush on him my entire freshman year- he agreed. "Straight up."

"How do you like the team here son so far?" Coach Whitey asked.

"It's a beautiful set up. A Strong, capable machine you've got here Coach. Let me promise you both, this." He took two steps forward holding all of our attention and lifted his brows to emphasize how serious he wanted his next words to be taken. "I will handle the Rafters all the way to the championships, all I require from the team is trust and effort."

The team looked to me for approval but I could already see they were already taken by him. Or at least by his skills where ball was concerned. Quinton had thoroughly earned their respect on the field. But they still had respect for me too, so I could imagine how torn to pick a Championship leader they must have felt.

I could either clench my jaw at his declaration to the coaches or let it drop. I chose the former, Starks chose opposite. Him and Wilson, who was sandwiched in the crowd of the sweaty players were some of the best offense men I'd ever played with. After Karim's promotion they were also the closest things I had to friends on the team. I met eyes with Wilson, the veins on his arms had grown visibly tighter from clenching a fist over his helmet.

Coach Whitey and Assistant Coach Will were sold on Quinton. Their large grins and boisterous laughter showed that. And their newest recruit knew it, I met eyes with him and he gave me a nod. The kinda nod a boss would award to his most faithful employee. 

I felt threatened. I also felt two nudges in the rib from Starks, I could almost feel him straining to hold in his eye roll because so was I. This new player, Quinton wore his ego blatantly and proudly with none the humility. It came through in waves from his looming presence on and off the field.

"You heard that? He said he wants to handle us to the Championships. Handle us." Starks seethed quietly beside me. I was just as miffed as he was, if not more. Because that was my job as Captain possibly with Starks beside me as the co pilot to this plane. Yet here was Quinton, the new guy talking big as though he was going to be our savior or something akin to that. Talking as though without him we were invalids or something. 

The only difference between Starks and I, is that I knew how to be subtle. Case in point, Starks opened his mouth and words flew out. "Getting ahead of yourself there new guy? You just got here."

"Either you're blind or jealous Starks. But maybe if you'd paused gagging on your captain's dick you'd have seen me with the Rafters go at it on your field."

"Alright boys, play nice." Assistant Coach Will tried to control us.

"Don't worry Coach, I play nice with men." Quinton said, his hands up in air with the universal sign of surrender as if what he was saying was fit for the public. He truly had no shame. "In fact, I reserved the Pretty Reckless for tonight. The whole team is invited including the water boys, first three rounds on me. No coaches allowed, my apologies." He winked at Coach Whitey.

Winked at the Coach.

He winked at Coach!

Coach Whitey laughed and allowed it, taking it all like that was not inappropriate at all. The team heard free rounds of alcohol and they were all game for Quinton. They kept showering him with appreciative pats on the back all the way to the showers. Unfortunately his locker was right next to mine and when we got there he crowded my space and tried to flirt with me.

"Do you know I reserved that bar mostly for you?" He said.

His tone was suggestive and so upfront so I didn't answer. Besides I was not a fan of him and his whole fuckboy personality.

"You're not gonna ask why?" He pushed, his drawl dropped to almost a whisper.

"No, because I don't care." I closed my locker shut and faced him head-on. "I'm not showing up either."

"You should because I'm trying to get your attention."

Starks showed up beside me on time, "We all know how you give attention, you can keep it all for yourself. Miller will never desire you or any of your sex transmitted infections."

Three or so eavesdropping teammates also waited for a reaction to the accusation. I mean he'd famously slept with more people in a week than the seven days in a week. Before he came in for practice everyone had been discussing that tabloid bit to burn minutes.

Contrary to the expectation he gave us a lazy grin without changing expression or breaking a sweat and threw his drying towel over his broad shoulder then said. "Not to pressure you or anything Miller but if you don't come. Your captainship might end up being just that. A title. I would hate to lose to some new guy and his STI's. Think about it."

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