Free Fading Out by Trisha Wolfe Page B

whole while, a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach builds until I feel like I’m about to lose my breakfast shake. I’m not sure if it’s from the actual protein drink or if it’s some kind of warning.
    We should have planned our escape routes for tomorrow, I think, as I hang my artwork in Ryder’s locker. But damn, I wish I could see his cute face go all ragey when he opens his new locker before the game.

10

Ryder
    “ I t’s about fucking time .” Beck slaps the new lockers appreciatively. The rest of the guys file into our upgraded locker room with similar remarks and nods.
    I have to admit, the boosters outdid themselves. The school has been talking about upgrading a few facilities, the locker rooms among some of the more sorely needed, since I first started out. But money was always an issue. And time. This group of supporters has been the best the team’s had in years.
    With that thought comes a quick and uninviting thought of Arian. I wonder if she went through with joining them. I can’t see how, after what happened the other night at Jack’s. Whatever reason she had for wanting to in the first place most likely wasn’t enough after the second condom prank.
    Damn, but we’ve really turned into a bunch of dumb jocks.
    Regardless of how pissed off she was, I put an end to the pranks. I think Beck is still cursing my name—he hates squats. I’m sure the guys won’t even think of looking her way now. Which, on a completely selfish level, gives me a secret satisfaction.
    “What the…?” Beck’s voice pulls me from my conflicting thoughts. I hear him bang his helmet against the locker unit. “The fuck?”
    Groaning, I head toward him and a few guys hovering around his locker. I swear, sometimes being the QB of a college football team is like being a freaking babysitter. These guys can whine. A lot.
    “You still pissed about the squats?” I ask, lacing my arms over my chest and leaning up against the metal blue unit.
    Beck’s face flames red, his meaty cheeks fluttering with his heavy breaths as he stares into his open locker. “Who the fuck, man?” He reaches into the locker and yanks something out.
    My forehead creases as my gaze zeros in on the dark fabric in his hand.
    Then he holds it up, stretching out the lacy material.
    A thong.
    The group of guys start laughing. “You finally coming out of the closet, bro?” James says, clapping Beck on his big shoulder. “I told you that cross-dressing shit back in freshman year would stick.”
    Beck growls. “That was Halloween, you douche!” He balls the pair of women’s underwear and tosses them to the bottom of the locker. “Where’s my strap?”
    It’s finally starting to register what’s going on. I just thought that a fan stuck them in Beck’s locker. Not really getting why he’s so pissed off. Hey, stranger things have happened.
    But soon the locker room fills with curses as the laughter dies down.
    I head to my locker and yank open the door. A pink thong hangs on a hook, and next to it, a folded piece of paper. I tweak the note out:
    And just for our special QB, the leader of the pack…
    I grab the thong. On the front…or whatever you call the thickest part of the damn underwear…is a glittery R. All done up in pink sparkles.
    Gavin laughs from over my shoulder. “Dude, yours are bedazzled!”
    James says, “How the hell do you even know what that is?”
    “I’ve had girlfriends. Unlike your no-ass-getting self.” Gavin punches James in the arm.
    As they continue to bicker, I stare at the thong, knowing exactly who it's from. Damn. I just figured out why Arian wanted to join the boosters.
    “Okay,” Gavin says, gaining the attention of the room. “Joke time’s over. It’s game time! Where the hell are our straps?”
    They start the hunt. Checking the shower area, laundry bags, but I can save them the trouble right now. They’re not here.
    “You’re looking at them,” I say, and all eyes land on me. “Strap up,