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Chapter 6

"I think you should bail out of the game. Tell coach your leg is still hurting." 

The cold, tile wall was soothing through the fabric of my shirt as I leaned against it. I listened halfheartedly to the conversation in the showers, still trying to get rid of the pounding headache that had just decided to pop up out of nowhere. I slid down the wall onto the dirty, grimy floor. 

"No, no!" I heard the squeaking of Liam's shoes as he protested. "I can do this! E-especially if you're there." 

I craned my head to hear Scott's answer. "Liam, it's not just about the game. We think whoever killed Demarco might be on our team." 

"Who's Demarco?" Liam questioned softly. 

"The one who brought the beer to the party, remember the guy who was beheaded?" 

"We think the person who ordered the keg, killed Demarco." There was silence for a moment, and I stood, confused. "Liam? What? You know something?"

"I don't know who ordered the keg," Liam paused. "But I know who paid for it."

I peered in curiously from around the wall, ignoring Liam as he lowered his head, refusing to make eye-contact. "Who?" I asked softly. He swallowed. 

"Garrett. H-he paid for it." 

Scott and Stiles glanced at each other with wide eyes. Scott looked to Liam. "Y-you stay here and change, and we're going to go and tell the others!" 

The boys sprinted out of the room, pushing one another on the way. The door slammed shut, and I cleared my throat awkwardly as Liam pushed past me, going over to his gym bag. I followed him, placing a hand on my neck. "Liam?"

He froze for a moment, his hand halting its search for dry clothes. His head turned to the side slightly. "Hm?"

"I-I-" I shifted uncomfortably. "I'm really sorry. About what I said earlier."

Liam nodded, turning back to his bag. "I didn't mean it," I mumbled. "Sometimes I don't exactly filter my thoughts." 

He didn't answer. I huffed in exasperation, throwing my hands up. "Liam, if you're gonna yell at me just get it ov-"

"I'm not going to yell at you," he finally snapped. He shrugged angrily. "I deserved it anyway." 

My lips parted. "No, no you didn't." I protested, watching him pull out a crinkled white tank top. He laughed sourly. 

"Pull up your shirt," he ordered, throwing his onto the bench. My eyes widened, arms coming up subconsciously over my abdomen. He motioned me on with creased eyebrows and I sighed. I yanked up the thin fabric and his lips pressed themselves into a grim line. "See?" he said softly. "I did deserve it." 

I groaned. "For fuck's sake, Liam, you didn't even know what the hell you were doing." I pulled down my shirt angrily, stomping up to him. "You're an idiot, and need to stop blaming yourself, because it was probably my fucking fault anyways. I didn't exactly do much to stop you!" I jabbed my finger into his chest, grinding my teeth. "I didn't mean it, and it's not your fault, so will you please just stop being such a freaking baby about it?" 

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a baby." 

"Is that all you got out of this conversation?" I raised my eyebrows. 

Liam didn't answer, instead rolling his eyes and turning back to his bag. My eyes widened as he peeled off his shirt, exposing smooth, tan skin and a toned, muscled abdomen. I squeaked, heat surging to my cheeks, and slammed a hand over my eyes. 

I heard him laugh. "And I'm the baby," he teased. A strangled, exasperated noise came out of my mouth. 

"I-I think I'm gonna-" I stopped short, a peal of laughter bubbling through my lips. My hand came away from my face as I gripped the wall for support, belly-aching laughter making me breathless.