Between the Lines

Don't blame me

*Alex*

Walking into that meeting room felt like walking straight into a trap. The air was thick with tension, almost as if you could cut it with a knife. After I left Brianna's house, I got a call from my agent saying the directors wanted to see me in the morning before the game. That's never a good sign, every player knows that.

Coach Brian sat there, arms crossed, his stern gaze locked on me like I was some sort of criminal. To his right, Richard Hayes, one of the club's most powerful directors, stood near the window with his back to me, staring out as if the view could somehow fix whatever mess they thought I'd created.

The room was too damn quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you want to fill it with anything just to break the tension. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall, counting down to the moment they would start ripping into me.

"Alex," Richard finally said, turning around slowly, his face a mask of disappointment. It was the kind of look a dad gives his kid when he's screwed up, but worse because it wasn't just personal—it was business. "We need to talk about your behavior."

I felt my stomach knot up. I'd been expecting this, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. "I know what this is about," I started, trying to keep my voice steady, to show I wasn't intimidated by their glares. "But that guy at the club—he was harassing someone. I was just—"

"Enough," Coach Brian snapped, cutting me off before I could even get the words out. His face was a storm of anger and frustration. "This isn't just about last night. It's about everything, Alex. Picking fights, getting drunk, sleeping around. You're acting like a damn fool, and it's got to stop."

Richard stepped forward, his hands in his pockets, his tone cold and measured. "You're dragging this club's name through the mud, Alex. We're a respected team, and you're making us look like a joke. This isn't just about you—your actions are reflecting on all of us."

I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms. This wasn't fair. I was out there defending someone, not causing trouble. "I get it, okay? But it's not like I'm out there trying to make things worse—"

"Stop," Coach Brian said again, his voice laced with disappointment that cut deeper than any anger. "You need to understand something, Alex. You're not untouchable. Just because you're one of our star players doesn't mean you can act like this without facing the consequences."

I could feel the panic rising in my chest, my heart pounding in my ears. I knew where this was heading, and it was the last thing I wanted to hear. "So, what?" I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice, "You're going to bench me? Just like that?"

"We're pulling you from today's match," Richard said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. His words hung in the air like a death sentence. "It's for the best, for both you and the club. You need to get your head straight and remember what's important."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Not playing wasn't just a punishment—it was a humiliation. "You can't be serious," I muttered, anger bubbling up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. "This is bullshit."

"We're very serious, Alex," Coach Brian said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You're sitting this one out. Maybe this will make you realize that your actions have consequences."

I shot up from my seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as I did. The room felt like it was closing in on me, every pair of eyes judging, condemning. "Fine," I snapped, not bothering to hide the fury in my voice. "But don't think for a second that this is going to help anything. It's just going to make things worse. For my reputation and for the team. You both damn know I make a difference out there."