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I avoided Max and Vincent both for the rest of the weekend, which wasn't that hard, considering the size of our campus. However, when Monday afternoon rolled around and it was time for practice, I was less than enthused by the idea of going. Not only did I not want to see Max after what happened at the party, but I didn't want to see Vincent to tell him that he was right.

But I eventually had to put my childishness aside and suck it up. I walked onto the field a few minutes late, and most of the guys were already in the locker room before I got there. I silently picked up the PT bag and first aid kit from Coach's office, smiling in greeting at Coach Baxter, and cowering away from the glare Sandra gave me.

By the time I got onto the field, most of the guys were by the sidelines talking and laughing amongst themselves. When I walked over, most of the conversation halted, and the guys gave me weird looks. The other seniors on the team, Max's friends whom I was never really close with, just smirked as I passed.

The guys I was close with- Holden, Andrew, Rory, and them- stared at me blatantly, their looks ranging from confused to guilty. I furrowed my brow at them, confused as to why everyone was suddenly paying attention to me. But then my gaze met Max's from a few feet away, and he was smirking at me with a knowing look in his eyes.

"Lily," Trevor calls, and pushes his way through the guys to stand in front of me, blocking me from everyone's view. "What the hell happened on Friday?"

I realized he was talking about what happened between Max and I, and I felt my stomach drop. I look around nervously and still see most of the guys with their eyes glued to me, murmuring amongst themselves. Max and his friends laugh loudly from a few feet away, stealing glances at me from behind Trevor's built frame.

"You're kidding me," I mutter under my breath, and then look up at Trevor. "What is he telling people?"

Trevor frowns at me, lowering his voice as he says, "That you guys had sex at the party."

"What?" I exclaim loudly, not even bothering to keep my voice down. When I realize I've brought even more attention to myself, I hiss, "He tried hooking up with me outside, but I stopped it. We just kissed!"

Guilt flashes through Trevor's eyes before he looked away from me, and I halt my anger as I look at him. My brow furrows and I stare at him, waiting for him to meet my gaze, but he refuses. Clearly, Trevor knows something that he isn't telling me.

"Trevor," I say slowly. "What is it?"

He finally looks down at me nervously, mumbling, "I heard some of the seniors on the team make a bet about who could get you in bed first."

I narrow my eyes at him. "And you know about the bet at the party?"

Trevor's guilt was the only confirmation I needed. A sense of dread washes over me as I realize that the guys on the team, the ones that were supposed to be my friends, had made such a disgusting bet. The entire time, they watched Max flirt with me, watched me stupidly fall for it, and laughed about the whole thing.

"What the hell, Trevor? Why didn't you tell me?" I snap at him, my voice deathly quiet so nobody could overhear our conversation.

He looks at me with big eyes full of regret as he explains quickly, "I was going to, but then I saw your friend Jane was with you, and I've wanted to talk to her for so long, that I kinda forgot about it."

I cover my face with my hands, fighting back the urge to run up to Max and tell him off in front of everybody. If Coach or Sandra caught me causing a scene, yelling at a player no less, I would surely be kicked off the trainer program for the football team and reassigned.

"Lily, I'm so sorry," Trevor says desperately. "Please don't hate me."

After a few deep breaths, I took my hands off my face and looked at Trevor. "I'm not mad at you, Trev."

Relief flooded his features, but I still felt uneasy. I glanced past Trevor at Max and his friends, who were standing in a circle laughing at something, and my eyes narrowed into slits. I would tell Max off, just not on the field, where it could jeopardize my job.

And then, as I looked around, I caught Vincent's knowing gaze, and his words from Friday night flooded my head. He's going to fuck you over, you know. Don't come crying to me when you make a big fucking mistake. I suddenly felt idiotic for not heeding his warning.

"Line up, boys!" Coach Baxter shouts with a blow of his whistle. "On the fifty!"

I stand by the sidelines dumbly, watching the boys jog to the middle of the field to meet up with Coach. My eyes narrow at Max, who casually strolls to the fifty yard line, with the audacity to turn around and smirk at me.

My blood was boiling at his behavior, let alone had the information from Trevor fully set in yet. All I wanted to do was walk over to him, grab him by the jersey, and slam my fist into his face. But of course, Sandra would have my head, and I'd be screwed.

I let out a deep breath and check the boys gathered by the field again, and see Coach Baxter talking with Vincent. I watch curiously for a moment before Vincent nods and begins walking back toward me, but not without his small limp from the injured knee.

"I'm supposed to run exercises with you today," Vincent says curtly upon reaching my spot by the sidelines.

Not only had I just found out that the guy I liked was betting on getting in my pants then lied about doing so, I also had to provide Vincent, the guy who warned me about everything, with his physical therapy.

Great.

"Okay," I breathe halfheartedly. "I have a ton of stretching exercises for you."

Vincent nods wordlessly, and I walk a few yards away to a grassy spot by the end zone opposite of where the rest of the team was currently running drills on. He follows me silently, an odd change for Vincent, and stands looking at me.

I look at him put my hands on my hips before explaining, "We're going to start with a basic stretch that will be good for your hips and thighs."

"I don't know if you noticed," Vincent says slowly. "But my knee is the thing injured. Not my hips or my thighs."

And there was his condescending tone. I was almost worried he had gone mute. Almost.

"I actually have noticed, thanks," I snap impatiently, then take a breath. "It's just to get you loose as a starting point. It looks like this."

I plant my hands and feet on the grass so I'm in a downward dog stance, then pull my left leg upward so my calf is parallel to my hips. Slowly, I lower my body and straighten my bent leg underneath me, feeling the pose stretch my hips forward.

When I'm done demonstrating, I stand up and look at Vincent, but he's still standing with his arms crossed. I roll my eyes and gesture to the ground, silently telling him to follow my instruction. After a moment of hesitance, he reluctantly repeats my movements.

"Repeat the same for the other leg," I say after he holds the stretch for thirty seconds.

Luckily, Vincent doesn't put up much of a fight, and we get through six exercises for his knee before I give him a water break. He jogs over to where he discarded his water bottle on the bench, and I spare a glance at the rest of the team.

The offensive line were running their own drills on the thirty yard line closest to where Vincent and I worked, while the defensive line was on the opposite side of the field. Brady O'Donnell was practicing throwing to the wide receivers, and had little luck actually throwing decent passes.

"That kid has horrible aim," Vincent mutters as he approaches me, watching Brady fail in throwing a decent pass once again.

I nod. "Coach might as well just work on him handing the ball off. It's not like he'll be calling too many throwing plays at the game tomorrow."

His arms cross across his chest as he glances at me, saying gruffly, "You're right. We will be running the ball all night."

"Watch out!" A lazy voice calls from a distance.

Vincent and I whip our heads around in time to see a football spike into the ground a few feet away. As if by instinct, Vincent's had shoots out to catch the ball as it bounces up. I look over to the field, squinting my eyes to see past the sun, where Brady stood looking sheepish as Coach scolded him.

My eyes shifted to see another figure running toward us: one of the receivers who was supposed to catch the bad pass. The sun blackened his features until he was merely a silhouette, but as the person came closer, I recognized the number on his chest. My eyes narrowed as Max jogs up lazily to us.

"Hey Lily," Max winks at me and then looks at Vincent. "Ball?"

Vincent doesn't hand it over to him, and I scowl at Max's smug features. "Don't say hey to me. You're lying to the team about what happened!"

Despite my accusation, Max just looks over at me briefly and without interest. "Okay, I won't say hi to you anymore." He looks back at Vincent expectantly, who has the football by his side, and raises his eyebrows. "Bradshaw, I know you haven't touched the ball in awhile, but I need it back."

Vincent's impassive expression twisted into a scowl to match mine. "Don't fucking talk down to me, Caulfield. I'm still the captain, injured or not."

To my surprise, Max actually looks humbled by his scolding, and doesn't speak at first. I bite my tongue from screaming obscenities at him, trying to keep my temper in order. Max holds his hand out to Vincent for the football, silently asking for it back.

"I'm still a Senior and you're just a Sophomore, Bradshaw. Remember that too." Max tells him calmly, then nods toward his hand.

Vincent's jaw clenches at Max's words, and without breaking their eye contact, Vincent throws the ball to Trevor by the twenty yard line. When the ball leaves his hand, Vincent crosses his arms and squares off to Max. I can't help the smirk when I see Max's pissed expression before he turns and walks away.

When he's a few yards away, I shake my head and mutter, "What an asshole."

"He's such a dick," Vincent grunts, then glances at me. "So, what happened with you and Max?"

I glance at him briefly and then look away, mumbling, "You know what happened."

Neither of us spoke for a second, and the distant sounds of the whistle blowing and Coach shouting instructions at the boys. Eventually I look at him again and sigh.

"I know you want to say it," I tell him warily. "Go ahead."

"I told you so," Vincent wastes no time in gloating. "I tried to warn you that guy was no good, but you didn't listen. Guys like Max just want to get in your pants."

I wasn't annoyed because Vincent was right all along: I was annoyed that I was actually wrong. And, not only was I wrong, but I foolishly trusted Max, and put my guard down enough to allow him to deceive me. Because of this, I just nodded in agreement to Vincent's words, which were a combination of self appraisal and scolding me for my poor judgement.

I glared at Max's figure, which I could barely make out with the sun behind them, and tell Vincent angrily, "He's telling the whole team we hooked up at the frat party, but I told him to stop when we were kissing outside."

That catches Vincent's attention, and I feel his eyes shift to me as he exclaims, "So you didn't actually fuck?"

I feel my cheeks warm from his direct and vulgar question as I glance at him. "No." I hear Coach's whistle in the distance, and glance out toward the boys running their drills again. "But Trevor told me that he's telling the other guys we did."

Vincent shakes his head and scoffs, "What an absolute asshole."

"Such a dick," I repeat his words and cast a sideways glance to see Vincent looking at me with the corners of his lips turned up when he notices my repetition.

"I'm surprised you didn't scream at him before practice or hit him or something," Vincent muses.

I scowl just thinking about the fact I couldn't. "I want to, but if Sandra sees me starting a fight with one of the players, I'll be kicked out of the PT program." I narrow my eyes at Max in the distance. "But trust me, all I want to do is kick him in the balls."

He chuckles from beside me, the sound surprisingly calming. "As much as I would love to see that, I agree you shouldn't do it. Not here, at least. Somewhere that Sandra won't see."

I let out a breath and shake my head, trying to rid my thoughts of the situation at hand, and instead focusing on something else. I redirected my energy into finishing our stretches and we did exactly that. Thirty minutes and a lot of prodding to make Vincent admit he was in pain later, we were finished for the day. I told Vincent he could head to the locker room or the shower, but he insisted on going to talk to Coach instead.

I just shrugged and went back over to the PT bag and began filling out a form regarding Vincent's progress for one of the weekly reports that Sandra demanded I give her. I jotted down the stretches we did, any noticeable progress in the flexibility or comfort in Vincent's knee, and determined the degree of the injury. Luckily for PSU, their beloved quarterback would be back before the end of the season if we kept up the progress in our sessions.

"Alright boys," Coach Sullivan, the offensive coordinator, yells. "Go grab water and meet by the fifty in three minutes."

I glance up to see the boys, some jogging and some walking over, most of them pulling their helmets off of their heads. Because we had a game tomorrow, today they were practicing in their full gear, and the added weight surely didn't help the fact it was already hot out. 

Trevor jogs over to me, sweat lining his forehead and his hair matted back, his face red from exhaustion. He grabbed his water bottle from under the bench and sprayed it in his mouth eagerly, then came to join me on the bleachers. 

"So what did Caulfield say to you and Bradshaw over there?" Trevor asks curiously. "Vincent looked pissed." 

I just shake my head. "He was just being a dick."

"Caulfield was being a dick?" Andrew grunts, his face shining with sweat on top of his flushed skin. "What else is new?"

Rory joins us, and then so does JD, another one of the freshman boys. They were all looking at me curiously, and I know they wanted to know about what happened between Max and I. Sighing, I looked at all of them with a flat expression.

"Max and I didn't have sex," I told them plainly. "So stop looking at me like that."

To my surprise, Andrew actually grins. "That's my girl. I knew you weren't dumb enough for that. You could do so much better than a football player."

I laugh lightly at him. "Drew, you are a football player."

"I know," He mutters. "We're the worst."

The boys laugh alongside me, and Trevor nudges Andrew's large frame. "C'mon, we're not that bad." 

Rory shrugs. "I don't know, bro. I wouldn't want my sister to date a football player."

"Me neither," JD agrees easily, then looks at me. "You've heard the shit we talk about in the locker rooms. I'd rather stab myself in the foot than know there's a player who talks about my sister the way we talk about girls." 

I grimace when I think back to previous conversations the boys have in the locker rooms. More often than not, they're either talking about a girl, the details of their hookup with a girl, or wanting to hook up with a girl. While we discussed this, I found myself scolding myself for being so stupid all over again. How could I just fall at Max's feet because he said a few nice things to me?

"That's why I leave when the Seniors start talking about Lily, or else I'll fucking strangle-" Andrew stops abruptly when Trevor looks at him wide eyed, shaking his head wildly.

My eyes widen as I whip my gaze to Andrew. "What?!"

Andrew scratches the back of his neck nervously, refusing to make eye contact with me, and I look around the group of boys to see they're all acting the same. Trevor is looking at the ground, JD is whistling and looking into the distance, Holden just walks away back onto the field, and Rory kicks the grass with his shoes.

I push Andrew's arm to grab his attention and he didn't even flinch, but his gaze finally met mine. "Explain yourself, Andrew." 

His cheeks look flushed, and I'm not sure whether it's from the drills they had been running or the information he had let slip. It was almost adorable, watching such a big man look so nervous, despite the fact he could crush anyone who dares to cross him. But I was too focused on the fact he said the Seniors talked about me in the locker room to think he looked adorable.

Without making eye contact, he mumbles, "Come on Lil, you're a good looking girl and you're around all the time. Of course the guys talk about you."

I ignore the forming blush on my cheeks when he says I'm good looking, because I've always considered myself to be average, but it quickly dissipates when I realize the kind of things the boys must've been saying. Unfortunately, I've heard first hand the kind of things they talk about when they're discussing a girl: bending her backwards over a desk, fucking her until she couldn't walk straight, you name it. 

They were no strangers to vulgarity. To think the guys on the team whom I considered friends, at least somewhat, had been saying those things about me made me feel gross. This just fuels my anger even more when I realize that Max had been saying that he did those things to me, telling all of the boys lies about the details of our "hookup". I find myself scowling and look back to Andrew, who was finally looking at me to gauge my reaction.

"What was Max saying about me?" I practically growl through my gritted teeth.

Trevor shakes his head vehemently. "Nope, we're not going there. It's too crude for your innocent ears."

I frown at him. "I'm not innocent," I mutter lamely, and then add: "Just tell me, Trev." 

"Trust me, Lily, you don't want to know." JD adds, then winces, as if remembering the details of what Max had been saying. 

Coach Baxter shouts for the boys to return to the fifty yard line, and before I can pester them more, they all jog back to rejoin practice. I fall back to sit on the bench with a sigh, glaring in Max's direction as he approached the rest of the team. That little weasel was telling the entire team false details of what happened, and that made me hate him even more. 

I feel a presence sit beside me, and then Vincent's condescending voice say, "If you keep glaring like that for too long, your face will stay that way."

I glance at him and contemplate asking him what Max was telling the team happened, but quickly decided against it. Hearing the crude words coming out of his mouth would make me more embarrassed than anything else, so I decided to ask Trevor about it again later.

Instead, I ask, "Do you think Max would be more embarrassed if I told everyone he has a tiny penis, or if I told them he cried afterwards?" 

Vincent bursts out laughing, and for the first time since coming to practice, I laugh with him and forget about how much I hate Max Caulfield.