Antagonym

Chapter 8

My leg was still unbelievably sore from last night and that was all I was thinking about when I walked into the crowded dinning hall at one in the afternoon the next day. The stinging behind where my titanium screw was implanted hurt the most, just below my kneecap, but behind my kneecap was still sore when I stood with my leg straight for too long. It definitely was not a torn ligament and I was sure of it. If that was the case I would have had a lot more pain, swelling, and buckling today. That was really the only highlight of my day so far.

We didn't have morning practice today but instead I had classes from eight to twelve thirty so I was starving. My white converse padded on the tiled floor as I picked up a plate of chicken marsala that had just been put under under a glowing yellow food lamp. Sebastian didn't get out of his classes for another half hour so I could hang out here until he showed up for lunch. I spotted an empty four person square table in the corner near all of the windows and carefully maneuvered through the matrix of college kids and backpacks with a water bottle in one hand and my food in the other.

My sore leg wasn't doing me any favors. When I finally reached the table, I placed my meal on the light wash table and shrugged my black under armor backpack off, putting it on one of the wooden chairs with blue seating. Almost everyone on the sports teams had the same backpacks with the circular Quinnipiac seal embroidered on the front with our last names in white under it.

I pulled up the belt loops of my jeans around my waist before I sat down and started to eat. Was I the only one that did that? I felt like pulling up your pants after and before you sat down was a habit I had formed that had to be performed no matter what. I didn't mind though, it made guys look at my hip to waist ratio and my ass and I wouldn't complain about being checked out.

Most of the time.

"I would comment on how good your ass looks but I feel like that's sexual harassment," Beck's deep voice filled my ears as I felt his presence behind me before he moved to take the chair on my left. I fought the urge to scoff at him and his blatant flirting in public but restrained myself. I'll just take that as a compliment because I thought I looked good today in my white Grandson T-shirt with two black Xs over the breast and the black head with white Xs for eyes on the back. I had cut the tour shirt to my waist when I got it for the sole purpose of wearing it with my favorite high waisted, ripped, black jeans.

"Depends if it's wanted or not. Though you are my captain and some might consider that a position of power," I chided back sarcastically.

"That's a shame," Beck mocked before dropping his voice a few decibels. "But, you did have sex with me so I'll count that as wanted, considering all you could do was beg me." His words sent a shiver down my spine that I pushed to the back of my mind without dignifying his comment with a real response.

"What do you want, Sampson?"

"Do I always have to want something?" Beck quirked his eyebrow at me before looking back at the stir fry on his plate and staring to eat it.

"Usually, yes." I focused on my own food, scarfing it down before it got cold. No one wants a congealed mushroom sauce.

"Just came over here to point out how I watched you limp your sorry ass over here and how I still think you need to see the team doctor." My hand tightened on my fork and my jaw momentarily flexed before I forced it to relax under Beck's observant and analytical gaze.

"I'm fine Beck. It's just a little sore. I would know if something was wrong, just trust me with it," I told him while turning my head to the side and giving the sharp jawed law student a pointed look.

"What do you have against-" Beck was cut off the appearance of who I thought was Sebastian until I saw the 5'11" Hispanic standing on my right. I looked at him with a blank face, waiting for him to speak. Thankfully, he did so without needing me to prompt him.