A Taste Of Him: The One I Was Never Meant to Want

Chapter six

Jaxon's POV

Staring speechless at the marbled tiles of the hallway, I could still feel the sting of Aurora's slap against my face. My hands instinctively went to my jaw, touching the spot where her nails had dug in. My eyes went flat, icy-cold enough to make anyone think I was capable of murder in that instant.

I turned away, heading back to the locker room. Jefferey's team was still buzzing with victory energy, loud and obnoxious, replaying every moment of the match as if they'd just won the World Cup. Their laughter echoed through the metal lockers-sharp, cocky, deliberately aimed to needle anyone wearing my teams' colors.

"Bro, did you see the knock on Jaxon?" one of Jeff's teammates cackled. "He fell like a fucking leaf!"

More laughter exploded, bouncing off the walls.

Jefferey leaned casually against a locker, smirking. "Leaf? Nah. More like a toddler learning how to walk."

My jaw tightened. I walked straight to my locker, trying to ignore them. But Jeff's voice followed, sharp, mocking-

"Hey, Jax! Next time try staying on your feet, yeah? Or do you need training wheels?"

The room erupted again in laughter.

My shoulders stiffened. I inhaled slowly, trying to remind myself murder was illegal-but only barely.

Then I turned.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Jeff grinned, stepping closer. "Oh relax, golden boy. Don't be salty because you lost. Again. And that knock? Man-your ass hit the turf like a bitch."

The room froze for a moment.

I didn't hesitate. My fist crashed into Jeff's jaw, lockers rattling with the force. Jeff's head snapped back, stumbling into a bench, water bottles flying.

"Motherfucker!" Jeff yelled, blood trickling from his lip.

He lunged forward fast. His punch connected with my cheekbone, a sharp crack echoing through the room.

"YEAH? You mad because you got flattened on the field?" Jeff spat. "Or because my team showed you how real players score?"

My eyes went ice-cold.

I grabbed Jeff by the front of his jersey, slammed him against the lockers, and drove another punch into Jeff's ribs-hard enough to steal his breath. Jeff groaned, half-collapsed, before forcing himself upright.

Players tried to intervene, coaches shouted from the hallway, chaos erupting around them. But I shoved everyone off, breathing like a storm barely contained.

I leaned in, voice low, venomous:

"Talk shit again, Jeff... and I'll fuck up more than your teeth."

With that, I shoved Jeff away violently, letting him collapse once more against the lockers. I wiped the blood from my own mouth, grabbed my bag, and kicked the locker room door open with a resounding slam. I didn't look back.

Coach barged in, furious, voice booming. "What the hell is wrong with both of you?!

I didn't even glance at him-jaw tight, knuckles split, breath sharp. Jeff wiped his bloodied lip, still glaring like he wanted a second round.

Coach pointed, shaking. "Jaxon, you're suspended for two games. Effective immediately!"

A few teammates gasped. Big deal-but I only smirked.

"Whatever," I muttered. "Your team can choke without me."

Jeff stepped forward, chest heaving. "Coach, he threw-"

"And YOU," the coach snapped, turning to Jeff, "are benched for the next match and running laps for the rest of the week. Since you apparently don't know how to walk away."

Jeff froze, humiliation written all over his face.

"One more fight," the coach continued, voice cutting, "and both of you sit out the entire tournament. I don't care how good you think you are."

He stormed out, leaving a choking silence behind.

I tossed one last cold look at Jeff-sharp enough to slice.

"Next time you mock my team," I said in a low, icy drawl, "I won't wait for the locker room."

Then I walked out, suspension or not. I wasn't just angry. He was dangerous.

---

When I got home, my mom shrieked. "Omg! You fought at school?!"

"No, mom, I fell down the stairs," I lied, barely glancing at her.

"What do you mean you fell?" she pressed, puzzled.

"A little wound, don't worry," I said, heading to my room to freshen up.

Layla appeared with a first aid kit, eyes full of questions. I ignored her, numb, not wanting to think about the fight. She left.

I lowered myself into the steaming tub, mint-scented water curling around his skin. "The Hills" by The Weeknd played from the speaker-the same edge-laden song I'd been blasting in the locker room.

No lady has ever done that to me...

What the fuck! Aurora! Smirked in my mind. No one gets away with that... I'll make you pay.

I got out, grabbed my bike keys, and called Amelia. She'd be on standby for sure. Maybe letting off some frustration elsewhere would clear my head.