Chapter 26

This books needs HUGEHUGEHUGE HUGEBJFNHSA revisions so it would be really cool if you guys commented what you like about the book and what you think I should change? the harsher the better thanks loves!

JAX

We filed into the bus, a mix of Cobras and Wolverines scrambling to get to the back of the bus, pulling me along with them, hollering excitedly. Behind me, I heard Denver scoff as they shuffled aside to make room along the back row of seats for me in the middle.

I chucked my bag into into the overhead compartment, seeing him sit down in the middle of the bus out of the corner of my eye, surrounded by his lackeys.

I slumped down in the space the guys had made for me, and was immediately pressed in on either side by the broad shoulders of Ryan and Marc next to me. We scuffled a bit trying to get comfortable.

"Jesus. " I said. "Couldn't some non-body builders have sat next to me?"

The guys laughed and Ryan and Marc flexed to crush me even more.

The bus started moving, the old bus driver in the front eyeing us apprehensively through the mirror. I glared at him, then put my earphones in and leaned back.

Sitting down now, surrounded by guys in uniform, the stench of Lynx deodorant already suffocating the air, and the excitement of the guys all around, I felt a weird sense of déjà vu wash over me.  It had been a long time since I had gone on a sports tournament.

Not since I was fourteen, actually. With Denver.

I couldn't help but feel like some weird ass full circle shit was happening.

------

ROCCO

At our first stop, hours after we had left, I turned around to glance at the back of the bus.

Wilson had his eyes closed, head resting on the back of the seat, his white blonde hair spilling back off his forehead, an earbud in one ear. His long legs, encased in tracksuit sweatpants, stretched out in front of him. Marc's shoulder was pressed against his as they sat next to each other.

I wondered what he was listening to.

I wondered what it would feel like to have his shoulder pressed against mine.

I turned back to face the front quickly.

--

JAX

It was getting dark when we got there. The hotel we were staying at was actually kind of nice compared to the ones I had stayed in way back. It had a pool and heaps of common rooms. Some of them had pool tables.

We loaded our shit from the bus, heaps of the guys pissy and tired from the bus ride. Out of the corner of my eye on my left, I saw Denver stretch and yawn, his shirt riding up, exposing a sliver of the warm gold skin of his stomach. I blinked hard, biting the inside of my cheek, and turned to grab my bags.

We traipsed into the hotel through the turny circle push door, the boys being dicks and spinning it fast. The foyer was large and shiny, made of black tiles and gold bits which amplified our voices. There was a restaurant through the gold doors on the right. On the other side of the glass wall, heaps of people staying at the hotel were having dinner. Their heads turned our way. We got horrified looks from the old couples, who probably thought us noisy teenage boys were about to ruin their stay. There were two sisters about our age, with dark hair, having dinner with their parents further along in the restaurant next to the glass wall. Their eyes bugged when they saw us, clapping hands over their mouths and turning to each other in glee. Their parents also turned, confused, to see what they were freaking out about. When they saw it was us, they rolled their eyes and laughed.

We went up to the counter to get checked in. I suddenly remembered who my roommate was, and I adjusted my grip on my bag, clenching my fingers around the flat strap. I kept my eyes forward, feeling Denver staring at me.

Soon enough we were checked in and heading upstairs, the long windows flanking the staircase lit up by the red sun as it sank below the horizon. I caught a glimpse of Denver's side profile outlined against the red light as he turned the staircase ahead of me, turning his curls to flame, and looked down at my feet. We got to our floor and Coach told us to drop our bags in our rooms and come down to eat. He pulled me and Denver aside as the others pulled away. "If you two so much as lay a hand on each other, you're out. Forever. " he said, his tone serious.

My hand was starting to hurt from being clenched around my bag strap. "I know, " I said, my voice coming out hoarser than I intended it too. I wished Denver was more nervous about staring at me, because his gaze was beginning to burn.

Coach patted me on the back, and we turned to find our room. I hadn't been listening when Coach had told us our room numbers, so I lagged behind Denver, holding a room key identical to his.

219.

The door swung open.

DENVER

Wilson wasn't looking so cocky now. His face was paler than usual, and he couldn't meet my eyes. I stepped into our room first, then decided to step aside to hold the door open for him, wanting to see how he would react.

He shot an apprehensive glance at me, and stepped quickly past, striding into the room and swinging his bag onto the bed closest to the bathroom, even though I hadn't even put the card that turns on the lights in its slot yet.

I put the door stop in, and took the other bed by the window. In the next second, Wilson had gone silently out of the open door and left, taking his crackling tension with him.

I dropped my bag slowly onto the bed and sat down, resting my elbows on my knees in the dark room.

Was Wilson scared of me? Did he actually think I would hurt him? He'd fought me enough times to know how evenly matched we were. Granted, it was usually him who started the fights, unlike at the party, but neither of us had come out seriously hurt. Plus, he probably had a knife tucked away somewhere. Hadn't he been so fearless before we boarded the bus? Maybe I shouldn't have provoked him... but then again, I had barely done anything to get a rise out of him. He was usually bulletproof.

Nothing made sense...

I sighed and headed to dinner.

JAX

I was making myself look dumb in front of him, I knew. I could barely eat at dinner, surrounded with the rest of the guys stuffing their faces and joking around, while my mind was crowded with terror. I caught his black-eyed gaze once, at another table, and felt like I was going to throw up. Coach, circling the tables, patted me on the back. "You good, Wilson?" He asked cheerfully. "Pre-game nerves are totally normal."

I nodded, and choked down a mouthful of food, hoping none of the other guys had heard him. They hadn't - they were too preoccupied with the food and some of them were making eyes at a table of tourist girls who were clearly older. I watched as the food on everyone's plates got less and less, dreading the moment they finished.

"Alright boys, early night! Up to your rooms!" Coach hollered, earning dirty looks from the other people in the restaurant.

I really did feel like I was going to throw up.

I followed the other guys out of the restaurant and up the stairs slowly, forcing laughs every time  everyone else did.

ROCCO

I was up to our room faster than Wilson was. I turned on the lights, went over to my bed, and started unpacking my stuff, hearing the voices of my team outside dwindle as they went into their rooms.

I was brushing my teeth in front of the mirror went I heard the door click open and slide over the carpet. I looked up at the mirror and Wilson's eyes briefly met mine in the reflection as he passed.

I leaned over and spat, then straightened to rinse my toothbrush under the tap. I had a strange sense of history repeating - the many nights me, Wilson, and sometimes Ryan had stayed over at my house or Ryan's. It was a lot different now.

I went back into the main room, forcing myself to relax. The room was filled with Wilson's cold tension again. He sat on his bed, the glow of his phone lighting up his face as he scrolled. He didn't react at all when I came in, no name-calling, no glares, nothing.

I sat down on my own bed, putting my toothbrush away. The rustling of my movements was excruciatingly loud in the silent room.

I stayed there for a moment, unsure of what to do now. I remembered I hadn't showered that morning, so decided to do that. Anything to get me away from Wilson's storm cloud, even for a little bit.

I went back into the bathroom and shut the door. I stared down at the latch. Did I lock it? Did I need to?

My hand hovered over it for a moment, then I turned away, and pulled my t-shirt over my head.

The sound of the shower was such a relief in the silence. The gurgle of the drain, the drum of the water, the routine of cleaning - it helped me to think.

With a jolt, I remembered I didn't know if Wilson knew about his mom and my dad. My gut twisted. I could tell him. I could. Maybe then he'd stop acting so weird and go back to being malicious and angry like usual.

I let the water pour over my head for a few more moments, then shut off the water, dreading the silence. I grabbed the nearest folded white towel and dried myself off, then wrapped it around my waist. I pulled open the door of the bathroom, flicking on the fan, and walked out over to my bed, pulling open my bag - then froze. I suddenly realised what I'd done.

I turned slowly.

Wilson was reclined on his bed, his legs stretched out, his phone in one limp hand. His ice-chip eyes rested directly on my bare skin, his mouth open slightly. His heavy, heavy gaze travelled up my body to meet my eyes, then almost by accident flicked back down.

He swallowed.

JAX

Rocco Denver was built like a greek god, I had known that since he hit puberty. I had seen the way his arms and chest - hell, even his legs pushed and strained against his clothes. I had even felt them when we fought. There was a reason he was football captain.

But in no way did that mean I was ready for how he looked now, muscles huge and rippling across his broad shoulders, arms sculpted and bulky. And when he turned around - oh, holy shit.

I physically couldn't look away. The sight of his v-line literally brought blood up to my face. And other places. His hair was dripping onto his shoulders, his eyelashes damp and even thicker than usual. One hand held the top edge of his towel.

I tore my eyes away. Fuck fuck fuck. Now he knew. I flexed my fingers hard to stop myself from hitting something.

ROCCO

A slight flush had come to his cheeks, and that shocked me beyond belief. I had gotten a reaction out of Jax Wilson. I had made him blush. I don't think that had ever happened in all the time I'd known him.

His stare was literally burning into my skin. If it wasn't for his pink cheeks, I would have thought this was some kind of joke, some trick to rile me up. Either way, it was riling me up.

There was fear on his face now still, and that confused me so much. What was he scared of? Did I look strong or something, and that freaked him out? That's stupid. We'd fought a million times, and he hadn't been scared then. His hand was now clenched around his phone, knuckles white.

He tore his gaze away from me and moved off the bed, graceful even though he wasn't trying to be. He rooted violently through his bag, grabbing something. He straightened, looked at me once more, and then swung around and went into the bathroom, shutting the door hard.

Silence again.

I turned back to my bed slowly and pulled on a t-shirt.

It was only after, when I lay in bed in the dark, listening to Wilson's uneven breathing from the other bed, knowing he was still awake too, that I understood.

Wilson wasn't scared of me.

He was scared of himself.