The King’s Men Read Online Nora Sakavic (All for Game #3)

Categories Genre: College, Contemporary, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, New Adult, Romance, Young Adult Tags Authors: Series: All for the Game Series by Nora Sakavic
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Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
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"Wouldn't that be an interesting change of pace," Andrew said. "See also: a waste of energy and effort. He might try, but he won't win."

"You have to let him go."

"Oh," Andrew said, as if this was news to him. "Do I?"

"You'll lose him if you don't," Neil said. "He'll keep pushing Katelyn away if you tell him to, but he'll resent you for it. He'll count down the days until graduation and when it comes you'll never see him again. You're not stupid. I know you can see it. Let him go now if you ever want him to come back."

"Who asked you?"

"You didn't have to. I'm volunteering my opinion."

"Don't," Andrew advised him. "Children should be seen and not heard."

"Don't dismiss me for lying to you then ignore me when I tell the truth."

"This is not truth," Andrew said. "Truth is irrefutable and untainted by bias. Sunrise, Abram, death: these are truths. You cannot judge a problem with your obsession goggles on and call it truth. You aren't fooling either of us."

"If you ask for half the truth, you'll only get half the truth," Neil said. "It's your fault if you don't like the answers I give you, not mine. But as long as we're talking about obsession and Aaron's life, what are you going to do about his trial? She's going to be here for it, isn't she? Cass, I mean," Neil said, though he was sure Andrew knew who he was talking about. "You're going to have to face her."

"Seen and not heard," Andrew reminded him.

He sounded bored, but Neil knew a warning when heard one. Neil let it slide and went back inside.

CHAPTER EIGHT

For once Neil woke up before Matt's alarm sounded. He lay still for a minute, then rolled over and switched his own alarm off. He flipped his phone open to stare at the date. It was Friday, January 19th. "Neil Josten" was supposed to turn twenty on March 31st. Today Nathaniel Wesninski turned nineteen years old. Neil had never made a habit of celebrating his birthday, but each one he was alive for deserved a moment of silence. He rubbed his thumb over the date on his small screen and made a wish that they'd win against Belmonte.

Neil knew he went to his classes, but he didn't learn anything. He wrote down what his teachers said but didn't absorb a single word. He stuffed his notes into the bottom of his bag, ate a flavorless meal alone at the athletes' dining hall, and returned to Fox Tower. He passed a couple volleyball players in the stairwell who wished him enthusiastic luck and remembered to thank them. He thought he thanked them, anyway. He didn't know. He couldn't focus when he was thinking about the game.

The Foxes didn't have afternoon practices when they had home games, so Neil had a lot of time to kill. He tried studying but got nowhere, then tried napping to no avail. By the time they left for the stadium an hour out from serve he was going crazy.

The locker room smelled faintly of bleach and window cleaner. Neil had never understood the point of cleaning the locker room before a game, but a small crew came by every day. The smell was usually gone by the time the Foxes showed up for practices, but Neil assumed game day campus traffic had slowed them down. It explained why Wymack was sitting on the entertainment center instead of holed up in his office, though. Wymack claimed he was allergic to cleaning materials. Abby thought it an uncreative excuse for the unkempt state of his apartment, but Wymack stubbornly maintained his story.

Wymack watched his team go by, likely hoping for a sign they'd made peace. Each practice that week had gone a little better than the one before, but they weren't quite where they needed to be. Neil and Kevin started talking again on Thursday because there was only so long they could ignore each other. While the upperclassmen couldn't yet forgive Andrew for his violence they accepted it out of a misplaced sense of necessity. They still thought of him as a half-cocked sociopath, incapable of regretting his actions or understanding their anger.

Aaron, on the other hand, was an unmoving stone of loathing in the Foxes' midst, a speed bump tripping them up as they tried to find their feet again. Neil didn't know how much longer to tolerate such immature animosity before giving Aaron another hard prod. He wished Nicky had more influence over his cousins, since their rooming situation meant Nicky had more chances to lean on them. Even Kevin would be an acceptable ally, but Kevin only defied Andrew when it came to Exy. He wouldn't get involved in their personal problems.

There wasn't time to worry about it anymore tonight; Neil would have to sort it out over the weekend. He pushed the brothers from mind and followed the men into the changing room. He twisted his combination into the lock on his gear locker and pulled the door open. There was a split second of unexpected resistance, then a sharp pop of something breaking.

And then—blood.

It exploded in his locker, triggered by the door opening, and Neil recoiled as it cascaded over everything inside. The smell of it was so thick it clogged his throat and choked him. Neil's shock only lasted for a white-hot second before panic took over. He dove at his locker, grabbing for his uniform and gear. It was too late and he knew it, but he had to try. His jersey squelched in his hands like a swollen sponge, spurting blood all over his fingers. He dropped it and scrabbled for his helmet. His fingertips grazed hard plastic but couldn't latch on before Matt grabbed him.

"No," Neil said, but Matt hauled him away from his locker. "Wait!"

He dug his feet in, but the tread of his shoes were soaked and slid across the ground. The blood had hit the bottom of his locker and was now spilling onto the floor in a swiftly-spreading puddle. Hanging from the top of his locker was an empty plastic bag, rigged to tear open when the door pulled too wide. It looked big enough to hold at least two gallons; it was more than big enough to destroy every single piece of gear Neil owned.


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