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That Friday Ben and I sat in the dressing room, silently contemplating the imminent game. We knew there were scouts hidden amongst the crowd from some of the top colleges in the country; we knew every single person who had ever attended Montague was out there, baying for Capulet blood after what had happened to Mitch.

                I knew Justin was out there somewhere.

                But all we were focussed on was Tyson Andrews. We were wired in. We didn’t know how we were going to do it or what was going to happen afterwards, but our anger had only grown in the interim between the fight and the game. The numbness of shock had worn off over the intervening few days and we were more determined to make him pay than anyone else out there in the crowd, chanting anti-Capulet slogans so loudly the walls were practically shaking. It must have been like being back stage at a rock concert.

                We only looked up when the door opened and everyone else went silent, to see Mitch standing in the doorway grinning sheepishly, his arm in a cast and his head still heavily bandaged.

                He lifted a hand in greeting and was engulfed by the team, as Ben and I sat and glanced at each other warily. Eventually, he made his way over to us.

                ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Ben said darkly. ‘You should be in bed.’

                ‘You really think I’m gonna miss the biggest game of the year just cos of a headache?’ he asked lightly, grinning.

                ‘A concussion,’ I corrected him sternly, and he rolled his eyes.

                ‘Semantics. I take it I don’t need to remind you to kick their asses – hard?’

                Ben managed a genuine chuckle. ‘It had occurred to us.’

                ‘Good. I know you want to decapitate Tyson and I’m fully behind you, but winning is the most important thing. If I’m not going to make it to third level education, I at least want a good excuse to get completely tanked tonight.’

                We both immediately leaned forward to reassure him that he’d get a scholarship to one of the other schools he’d applied to, but he smiled slightly and shook his head.

                ‘Got the last letter this morning,’ he admitted. ‘“We are sorry to inform you...” et cetera.’

                I gaped at him, shocked, while Ben shook his head angrily. ‘No,’ he argued. ‘That can’t... Tonight was supposed to be-’

                ‘The night we all got “discovered”, I know. But two out of three ain’t bad, right?’ He smiled again, and Ben and I glanced at each other worriedly. ‘I’m gonna go back out there and take my seat,’ he said, standing up. ‘Somebody’s gotta lead the singing; turns out our cheerleaders are awful.’

                Once he was gone, Ben caught my arm in a painfully tight grip and pulled me around to face him. Getting right into my personal space he said very quietly, very seriously, ‘That bastard dies tonight.’

Justin

I sat in the Capulet bleachers beside Nate, jiggling my knees up and down nervously and checking my phone. I hadn’t seen Rowan since Tyson had beat up his best friend, and he hadn’t been texting me back all day. I was beginning to seriously regret suggesting that they try to get Tyson back during the game, because I had a feeling he and Ben hadn’t taken it at face value.

                I’d been nervous, jittery, trying not to say the wrong thing, and I’d inadvertently said the worst thing. Or at least, I’d phrased it really stupidly. I’d meant for them to focus on the football, to win, to win with a margin wide enough to maybe humiliate Tyson. But somewhere in my gut I knew that wasn’t what they were planning – or at the very least, it wasn’t all they were planning.

                I jumped to my feet suddenly. ‘I’m going to go find him.’

                ‘No,’ Nate said calmly, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back down. ‘Don’t be stupid. You can’t just go walking into the Montague changing rooms – they’ll disembowel you and throw your innards at Tyson during the game to taunt him.’

                I stared at him, surprised by the graphic description, and he shook his head.

                ‘Sorry. But you know what I mean. You’re Capulet, and they all know you’re related to him. Rowan can’t protect you from the whole team.’

                ‘I need to see him,’ I muttered, pulling my hand out of his grip and darting out of his reach. ‘I’ll be fine.’

                Clutching my phone tightly in case he texted or called, I moved through the crowd and slipped behind the building which held the changing rooms as discreetly as I could. When I was certain I was out of sight, I snuck down the length of the building, peeping in windows until I could see the Montague team getting changed inside. My eyes widened when a particularly hot one turned around and I realised it was Rowan.

                He was topless and reaching for his shoulder pads, his muscles rippling slightly as he did so. I pushed myself up on my tiptoes so I could see a little better, and bit my lip. Damn, he was hot.

                Shaking myself out of it, I noticed his phone resting just inside his locker, and not taking my eyes off him I rang him again. He turned and looked at it, surprise flitting over his face before picking it up, glancing around surreptitiously, and finally answering. ‘Hey.’

                ‘Um. Hi.’ I paused nervously. ‘Can you come outside for a minute?’

                ‘I’m not exactly decent...’

                ‘I know. I can already see you.’

                He turned to face into his locker as he laughed, trying to hide his face from his teammates. ‘Where are you?’

                ‘In the ceiling duct. I couldn’t resist the lure of so much naked testosterone.’

                ‘Hey! Where are you really? I’ll come outside.’

                ‘I’m at the back. Look out the window.’

                He turned to scan the rear wall of the dressing room, glancing through two other windows before his eyes finally landed on me and he grinned. ‘Gimme two seconds,’ he said, and the line went dead.

                I stepped away from the window and instead leaned against the wall, turning when I heard the door to my right opening and he came outside, just about to tug a t-shirt over his head.

                ‘I prefer you like that,’ I said dryly, and he laughed again, but dropped his arms without putting the shirt on. I tried not to gulp.

                ‘What’s up?’ he asked, slipping one muscular arm around my shoulders and leaning into me slightly. I tried not to die at his naked proximity.

                ‘You’ve been ignoring me,’ I accused him, glaring up at him from under his arm.

                He raised his eyebrows. ‘I haven’t. Sorry. On game days I tend to get wired in. I usually don’t even have my phone with me, but I was worried about Mitch...’ He trailed off.

                ‘How is he?’

                ‘Here,’ Rowan replied, scratching the back of his head worriedly. ‘He’s still concussed so he shouldn’t be, but we couldn’t talk him out of it.’

                I bit my lip. ‘Has he seen Tyson?’ I asked quietly, biting the bullet.

                ‘No. He barely even mentioned him actually. He got his last college rejection letter this morning, so I think he’s just trying to block the whole thing out.’

                ‘Oh god,’ I said, feeling panic start to bubble up in my tummy. ‘He didn’t get in anywhere?’

                ‘No... He didn’t really give the other scouts his best because we were all counting on tonight.’

                I stared at the ground for a minute before turning back to him, nervousness written all over my face. ‘It’s gonna get bad out there, isn’t it?’

                Rowan’s face stretched, caught between frustration and concern. ‘Yeah,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m sorry, Justin, I really am, but Tyson brought this on himself. I didn’t want to fight him. We all tried to get him to stop hitting Mitch, but he just wouldn’t. Now Mitch’s life just hit a road block because your cousin is a dangerous lunatic. And... It’s partially my fault. I can’t just let him get away with it.’

                I bit my lip, looking at the ground again. ‘I get it,’ I mumbled. ‘And it’s not like Tyson isn’t expecting this.’ I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. ‘Just be careful, okay? Tyson and the whole team will be prepared for this. Don’t get hurt.’

                Rowan looked at me weirdly for a moment before smiling. ‘You really like me, huh?’

                My eyes widened in embarrassment as I blushed. ‘Shouldn’t I-... Um... I mean-...’ I stuttered, wondering if I’d completely misread this situation.

                Rowan lifted the hand that wasn’t around my shoulders and tilted my face towards his before leaning down and kissing me softly. I’d been so flustered that my breath hitched when his lips touched mine, making me seem even more turned on than I actually was. I felt him smile against my mouth before kissing me a little harder and taking his arm away from around my shoulders, instead pushing me against the wall gently and resting his hands on my hips. His body was angled towards mine in a way that meant our bottom halves were touching but there was space between our abdomens, and I found my hands involuntarily running over his chest as my breathing quickened, wondering at how he could still be so hot even with my eyes closed.

                ‘Game,’ I gasped, pulling away from him and averting my eyes. ‘You have a... Game... Thing...’

                ‘I do,’ he admitted solemnly, and paused for a few seconds, before leaning in and kissing me again.

I sighed against his lips and let my body melt again for a few seconds before pushing him more firmly away this time.

                ‘Cruel,’ he complained, but he was grinning.

                ‘Think about it this way,’ I suggested, trying not to let my breathlessness show, ‘if you don’t die of macho stupidity on the field, you can kiss me all you want later on.’

                A look of guilt flitted over his features. ‘You might change your mind about me after this game,’ he said softly.

                I rolled my eyes. ‘I love Tyson, but he crossed a line. Maybe he deserves to get roughed up a little. His beef with Montague hasn’t really got anything to do with me.’

                ‘You wouldn’t feel conflicted?’

                I shuffled, wondering how to phrase my point without sounding crass and soulless. ‘Even with family... Even with people you’re supposed to love unconditionally... There’s always a breaking point. I’ve forgiven Tyson for a lot of stuff growing up, and he’s never even apologised. I know there’s a good guy in there somewhere but I’m sick of waiting for it to come out.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m not violent but... Sometimes being scared is the answer.’

                Rowan looked at me inscrutably for a moment before shaking his head. ‘It’s amazing how you manage to make it sound like Ben and I will be doing Tyson a favour. Almost makes me want to reconsider.’ He grinned. ‘Almost.’

                I smiled as well and started walking away. ‘See if you can get, like, a little muddy... Maybe some blood too. That’d be pretty hot.’

                Rowan groaned. ‘You’re killing me!’ he called after me, and I laughed, rounding the corner.

Rowan

‘Since when does “two minutes talking to Justin” mean “fifteen minutes making out with him”?’ Ben demanded angrily when I reappeared inside.

                ‘Sorry,’ I said, trying to look penitent, then glanced up sharply. ‘Did anyone see-’

                ‘No,’ Ben huffed. ‘I covered your ass. For whatever good it’ll do; you have to come out eventually.’

                ‘Just not right before the biggest game of our lives so far when everybody should be focussing on strategy and revenge,’ I told him, grabbing my shoulder pads and tugging them on over my head. Ben grumbled in coherently but handed me my jersey and then it was time to hit the field and warm up.

                The cheerleaders for both teams were already guiding the crowd into a greater frenzy than it had already been in; the Capulet fans chanting insults and taunts while the Montague bleachers intoned slightly darker rhymes in the vein of murder and revenge.

                It all felt slightly Roman-Empire-esque, like we were in the Colosseum and death was the expected outcome.

                The Capulet team was already running drills at the other end of the field, and I stopped to stare at Tyson Andrews for a moment with incomprehension. He was standing to the side with a couple of others, chatting easily and grinning, even laughing. He clapped his teammates on the back and tossed a ball to someone a few feet away; it hit the guy on the back of the head and he whirled around, laughing, to fling it back.

                Like nothing had even happened. Like he hadn’t effectively ruined Mitch’s life.

                I growled angrily and turned when I felt Ben’s hand on my shoulder.

                ‘Self-satisfied dick,’ he muttered, glaring in the Capulets’ general direction.

                ‘Don’t worry,’ I muttered darkly. ‘Just wait til he gets his hands on the ball and then crush him.’

                After ten minutes of warm up the referee blew his whistle and, following the tradition of these annual end-of-year football games, the two teams lined up so each member could shake hands. Typically this process is unfriendly at best; today it was downright hostile. Barely touching fingers, I moved from person to person with Ben right behind me, until I got to a smirking Tyson. Determined to ignore him completely, I stopped short when he fully grasped my hand.

                ‘Unless you want those fingers broken prematurely, you’d better let go,’ I warned him, my voice hoarse with anger.

                Tyson continued to smirk, seemingly unfazed. ‘Pity your boy can’t play tonight,’ he sneered. ‘Guess the scouts will just have to focus on me.’

                I grimaced, trying to keep my temper in check until the first whistle blew. Guys up and down the line on both sides were glancing at us, trying to figure out what the hold-up was. ‘Pity you won’t be able to play ever again after tonight,’ I muttered in response, returning his tight grip on my hand with one of my own, squeezing his fingers until he flinched minutely.

                ‘Careful, now,’ Tyson warned me quietly, his voice sweet. ‘Wonder how Justin would feel about you crippling me.’

                I didn’t say anything, not feeling completely comfortable telling Tyson how Justin really felt. It seemed like that might have been a private conversation.

                Tyson’s smirk grew at my unresponsiveness. ‘Bringing all this down on yourself for a prize as pathetic as my cousin,’ he murmured, so only I could hear. ‘See if it’s worth it when you end up in the same dead end job as your friend and Justin is Parker Count’s for a song.’

                Justin had mentioned that everyone had their breaking point, and it seemed like this was mine. Before I even knew what I was doing, I had Tyson pinned to the ground and was punching him repeatedly, while the other players erupted around me. Soon it wasn’t just us; all thirty-something uniforms were outright brawling in the middle of the field, and it was chaos. Through the mess of bodies I could see the stands detonating; people standing and shouting and running and trying to intervene. The officials were desperately trying to break us apart, but every time they managed it a worse brawl broke out somewhere else.

                Tyson and I were rolling around on the ground, hitting and kicking with no regard for social convention; this was not in any way gentlemanly. He caught me with a right hook to the side of my face and I felt a trickle of blood from my temple, leaning my full weight on him to incapacitate him for a moment as I rode out my sudden wooziness.

                He struggled under my weight and rolled out from under me, kneeing me in the stomach to wind me so he could get away. I grabbed him by the ankle and pressed my elbow into his back, then turned him over and punched him again. He spat blood and hit me on the jaw; I groaned as my teeth clacked together painfully. I was about to hit him back when a shadow loomed over us and suddenly Ben was kneeling beside me, his face painted ugly with anger.

                ‘Now let’s see how you like it,’ he muttered, catching Tyson’s arm and bending it backwards at an angle arms aren’t supposed to attempt. Tyson screamed at the back of his throat and I looked at Ben frantically; this was too much. Sure, Mitch’s arm had been broken in their fight, but that had been a side effect, a result of landing on it awkwardly when they fell to the ground. Nothing this cruel.

                ‘Ben,’ I hissed, not letting go of Tyson’s body, which was the only reason Tyson hadn’t clawed his face off in an effort to get away. ‘Ben, stop!’

                Before I could say or do anything else, more bodies appeared and my eyes widened in shock to see Mitch standing over us beside a watery-eyed Hayley Tate in her cheerleader’s uniform. Mitch kneeled down beside Ben and muttered quietly, ‘Ben. That’s enough. Let him go.’

                Ben glanced up at Mitch uncomprehendingly. ‘But-’

                ‘Let him go.’

                Jaw clenched, Ben waited another second before releasing Tyson’s hand and getting angrily to his feet. Cautiously, I followed suit, and Tyson clutched his unbroken arm to his chest, curling into a foetal position.

                Ben continued to glare down at him for a few moments before he finally looked up, his eyes meeting Hayley’s.

                ‘Come on,’ he muttered, but Hayley took a step back from him nervously. ‘Hayley?’

                ‘Um,’ she mumbled, looking, if I’m not mistaken, kind of scared.

                Ben frowned in confusion. This was the girl who’d been gazing after him adulation for four years. Now she was backing away from him.

                ‘I’m glad you’re okay,’ she managed to squeak, before turning and hurrying away.

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‘Whatever,’ Ben announced somewhat suddenly, as we mulled around the dressing room, changing back into our regular clothes. Mitch and I turned to look at him expectantly. ‘Justin will be more angry with you than Hayley is with me.’

                Not really sure of the correlation, I shrugged. ‘I dunno. He told me he thought Tyson needed to learn a lesson, and he said he wanted me to get mud and blood on me. I don’t think he’s gonna mind.’

                Ben looked up, surprised and annoyed. ‘Seriously?’

                I shrugged again.

                He sighed, and Mitch and I lowered ourselves down onto the bench on either side of him. ‘Maybe you have the right idea then. Maybe gay is the way to go. What do you say, Mitch? Should we make out?’

                ‘Oh yeah, sure,’ Mitch said, rolling his eyes. ‘Let me just dump my heterosexuality here and we’ll get right on that.’

                ‘Since when do you care what Hayley Tate thinks anyway?’ I asked, curiously. ‘Haven’t you always found her kind of annoying?’

                Ben made a face. ‘Yeah, but she’s always been so into me. I never had to worry about what she thought. Now she suddenly decides there’s a line and I’ve crossed it. It’s annoying.’

                ‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’

                ‘No. Now I have to find somebody else to take to Prom.’

                Mitch laughed sceptically. ‘Sure. Because we’re still gonna get a Prom after that performance.’

                Right on cue, our Coach appeared in the doorway looking even angrier than I had pre-fight. ‘You’re lucky it’s the weekend,’ was all he had to spit at us. ‘Maybe by Monday we’ll have decided not to expel every single one of you. Go home.’

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A/N: Ayee.

I know jack shit about American football so I had to put the fight before the game XD

Also, if you read author's notes, incorporate the word "duck" into your comments.

On a more serious note, while most of the reaction to this story has been positive (you darlings), some people have taken issue with the way I've presented some of the characters/events. That's fine. Everything is open to interpretation and Romeo and Juliet is definitely one of those things people tend to hold close to their hearts, so if you don't like something I've done, that's okay, it's your opinion. Just don't tell me I did it *wrong*, because that's annoying.

 Kiloveyoubuhbye :)

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