Safer This Way

Chapter 13

Hey guys, no excuse, I'm just lazy so this update took a while. I hope you enjoy this chapter because I had fun with it, and felt not a little evil as well. P.S. that means there's a cliffy, oops :)

Happy reading!

*Sang*

The first thing I notice is the noise. Then the cold. And lastly, how crowded the bleachers and the rest of the area surrounding the football field is.

"Jesus fucking Christ, it's like a goddamned sardine can over here. Why the actual fuck are we here again?" Gabe's irritated grumbling pulls me from my wide-eyed stare as I take in the very first football game I'd ever been to.

"We're here for North and Silas, Gabe," Victor tells him for what must be the 10th or 11th time since we got here.

Gabe scoffs. "Please, those fuckers hate this more than we do. They couldn't give two fucks if they have a fan club or not."

The mental image of an adoring fan club fawning over our resident growly bear is enough to surprise a rather unmasculine giggle from me. The sound has Luke sending a smile my way, paired with dancing brown eyes that have my heart crying out from inside my chest.

"It's also the last game of the season, and Shaw's never been to a football game before," Nathan chimes in from where he stands at my left. I had forgotten that I'd confessed my naivety about any and all sporting events when some of the guys had been talking baseball the other day at lunch. While I had seen several games on TV back before my grandparents had died, had loved watching the players run while my grandpa explained over and over again the mechanics of the sport, I'd been denied the experience of any real event.

Although, with the way his eyes bug out, and his jaw drops, I must have committed a great sin not letting him in on the fact that this was a first for me. "Well why the fuck didn't you just fucking say so? We should have gotten here fucking early and made sure to get fucking decent seats at least! How the fuck is Shaw supposed to get the full fucking football experience if he can't even fucking see the motherfucking field," he shouts, and I feel a stupid amount warmth fill my heart that he's outraged on my behalf.

"Say fuck again, Gabe," Nathan jokes, and I stifle another girlish giggle when Gabriel sends him a look that could curdle milk.

"Fuck you." The words sound mean, but there's no real heat behind them. That's something I like the most about them; their teasing is never truly mean, and they all genuinely care about one another, a rarity these days.

Nathan laughs, cutting off any argument, fake or not, that may have evolved from Gabriel being left out of the loop. In fact, if anything, there's a new light in his eyes as he scours the bleachers. "Fuck yeah! Front row seats! Nathan, go use all those muscles of yours to save those seats," he shouts, shoving at said muscles until Nathan grudgingly does as demanded, pushing through the crowds as politely as he can to do so.

By the time the rest of us were able to squish through the masses, Nathan had managed to sequester a small circle of space in the first two rows of bleachers at the 50 yard line. Gabriel is the first to plop down, higher up on the second row surveying all that lay before him like a king–of a high school football game, but like a king nonetheless.

Patting the bench in front of him, he looks at me. "Park it, Shaw, I need to fix that hair of yours."

Self conscious, I lift a hand to my slightly windblown hair still a mess from earlier regardless of how I'd tried to tame it. The monster had dragged me out of bed this morning by my hair, informing me that she and my father were leaving again for the weekend before delivering several back-breaking kicks to my left side. I suppose hair doesn't bounce back from that as well as I'd hoped, my scalp is still tender to the touch so I don't know if I can allow Gabriel his demand.