James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - Book Two

Thirty-One

MARK

We took a break from the field, sweat dripping from every inch of our shirtless bodies. However, this was only the first half of tryouts. Coach Kimmel jotted down notes on his clipboard. For once, I wasn't alone. On one side, Sebastian and the other jocks stood in full uniform. His intense blue-green eyes were fixed on me, almost like he was ready to pounce. I responded with a defiant gesture and a half-smile.

Bryce stood beside me on the other side of the field, joined by James, Noah, and Shawn. Clustered in one of James' oversized hoodies, Claire sat with Madison and Sarah and watched from the bleachers. When Sebastian and his friends glanced our way, Bryce averted his eyes and tightly gripped my hand, almost crushing it. But I didn't mind. Bryce had a way of getting under Sebastian's skin, probably because he was proudly open about being gay around me, and honestly, I was proud of that, too.

Max and Mia finally showed up, entering through the stadium's back doors and jogging onto the field. Max's eyes locked onto James as he stretched his calves while Mia headed over to chat with the cheerleaders.

"Late again, Max," the coach chided him. Max rolled his eyes, meeting the coach's gaze. My eyes wandered down Max's chiseled six-pack before returning to his irritated expression.

"Damn it," James muttered.

"Everything alright, kid?" Kimmel turned his attention to James, drawing everyone's eyes to him.

"Yeah," James replied, his gaze still fixed on Max.

"Good. How about you release some of that energy on the field?" The coach blew his whistle, capturing everyone's focus.

We divided into two groups. Sebastian was seething, ripping off his shirt and charging onto the field, clutching the ball tightly while stretching his calves. Bryce and I also removed our shirts, our well-defined muscles drawing envious looks from the other boys.

The ground shook beneath Sebastian as he suddenly fell to the ground. The other boys laughed, mocking him as they slammed their faces into the grass. A grin crept onto Noah's lips.

"Oops," Noah muttered, clearly satisfied with his little stunt. James and I rolled our eyes in unison—nice one, idiot.

We stood on opposite sides of the field. Bryce found solace in his nerves by nibbling on his hangnails, and when I touched his back to comfort him, I felt his muscles relax. My stomach rumbled, and I felt a flutter of excitement.

"This should be interesting," Noah commented as Sebastian got up, brushing grass and mud from his chest, and scowled at those around him.

A few minutes later, the game began with a whistle. Noah sprinted down the field with the ball, leaving everyone else in his dust except Max, who trailed behind me as I blocked Noah's blind side.

"Get the damn ball!" Sebastian growled, coming to a halt as three players in team shirts tackled Noah to the ground. Noah looked furious but stayed on the floor, brushing off grass and dirt from his body.

"What the hell?" Noah exclaimed, clearly annoyed. As Sebastian spat near him, the other players pinned Noah down. "You guys better watch your backs," he warned. Max stood behind Sebastian, torn between attacking his friend for spitting on his brother or siding with him. My heart pounded, anger boiling within me.

The football players finally released Noah, but he grabbed Sebastian's ankle and pulled him to the ground. Sebastian's friend, Jacob, dug his cleat into Noah's side, watching Noah wince, feigning pain.

"Do that to Sebastian again, and you're done," Jacob threatened. Then they all walked away as the football coach tore his attention away from his cell phone to address Noah.

"Hey! Jacob, no more of that!" Kimmel shouted, blowing his whistle. He approached Noah before Bryce or I could reach him and helped him to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Kimmel asked. Noah brushed more dirt off his backside and grumbled.

"I'm fine," Noah muttered, locking eyes with Sebastian. This was a bad idea.

∆∆∆

JAMES

I stood in the kitchen, the empty soda can and half-eaten peanut butter jar on the counter catching my attention. My head throbbed, and my white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants clung to my sweat-soaked body. The purple hue of my eyes gleamed in the harsh kitchen lights, casting reflections off every surface. My gaze shifted to Mark, who occupied the corner of the room, arms crossed and a raised eyebrow as he observed me. It irritated me he was there, but something stopped me from telling him to get lost.

"So, uh..." Mark began hesitantly, stepping away from the doorway and moving deeper into the kitchen. "I'm sorry if I messed you up or anything."

"Why the apology now?" I grunted, locking eyes with him, my stare unwavering.

"Look, I didn't have to apologize at all. I just thought it was the right thing to do," Mark retorted, irritation flaring up. I rolled my eyes and plunged a spoon into the peanut butter jar, casually licking it clean.

"Do you think I'd buy your apology?" I muttered, my tongue swiping the peanut butter from my lips. Despite my inner turmoil, I clung to my belief that Mark wasn't the good guy. I'd been too blind to see how Max manipulated him, using him as a pawn. Maybe Mark was better than I'd thought. Maybe he wasn't my enemy after all.

"Soda and peanut butter. What an odd combo," Noah's voice broke the tension as he appeared in the doorway, glancing between Mark and me.

With my spoon, I scooped up another hefty glob of peanut butter and devoured it. "Don't knock it til' you've tried it," I grumbled, pointing the spoon at Noah. Then I lifted the empty soda can to my lips and drained the last drops.

"I'm heading over to Bryce's place. Anyone up for it?" Noah offered.

"Do you think I'd let you go solo?" Mark replied, a hint of protectiveness creeping into his tone.

"Sarah's tagging along," Noah added, attempting to defuse the situation.

"You two getting busy, or what?" Mark quipped, rolling his eyes.

Noah huffed and rolled his eyes. "No, she ran out of condoms the other day—"

"Since when has that stopped you?" Mark snarked, dodging an eye-roll and my empty can.

I cleared my throat before the tension could escalate into a full-blown showdown. "I'll stick around with Claire. Sam and my old man have no clue, and I don't want either of you spilling the beans, or you'll regret it."

"Is that a threat, Knight?" Mark asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe," I replied, savoring another spoonful of peanut butter. After silence, I plunked the jar back on the countertop, strode past Noah to the doorway, and saluted them before leaving the kitchen.