TRISTAN: I ignored him. Maybe if I pretended he wasn’t there, he’d finally crawl back into whatever rich-kid shithole he’d escaped from. No such luck. “Seriously, let’s up the stakes.” he persisted I stared straight ahead at my guys playing the second line, cringing at how badly they fucked a pass. The red light soon went off, signaling a goal for the Lice Reapers. 3:0. Fuck. “Oooh, that’s not looking good for you, Reeves.” He mocked. And then added. “Are you seriously not gonna hear me out?” Finally, I looked at him. The arena lights reflected off his visor, obscuring his face, but I could hear the grin in his voice anyway. Fuck. Okay, I’ll bite. If it meant getting rid of this asshole. “What the fuck do you want, Beaumont?” I snarled. “Let’s make a bet.” I gritted my teeth so hard they fucking chattered from their roots. “No.” “Aww, are you scared y’all are gonna lose? Again.” That was a cheap shot and the asshole knew it. Backed into this wal
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