Navy's Sons: Bullied by Quadruplet Stepbrothers

Tabitha's POV

A soccer ball rockets toward me just as I'm halfway through a passage, lounging cross-legged in the middle of the open field with my book resting comfortably on my thighs. I glance up and see it speeding straight at my face.

Oh shit!

My heart skips and slam the book shut. I jerk to the side, pressing my hands into the grass as I twist my body out of the way.

"Look out!"

Before the ball can reach me, Andrew appears in a blur of movement. He charges forward and throws himself in front of me, tilting his head just right to intercept the ball. It bounces off with a dull thud and rolls away across the grassy field.

"You okay?" he asks, catching his breath as he straightens up beside me.

I press a palm to my chest, feeling my pulse racing beneath my fingertips. That was close.

"Yeah. Although that ball almost broke my glasses." I push the crooked frames back up the bridge of my nose. "I would've asked you to replace it, but it's your lucky day, Kingston."

Andrew lets out a quiet chuckle.

"Sorry about that. They got Ray all fired up." He nods at Ray who is running across the field. "You know how he is when he gets into the game."

Ray, the captain of the university's soccer team waves at me apologetically and demands Andrew to give them back the ball.

"You might want to tell your buddies to work on their aim next time. Try not to give us poor people in the bleachers a black eye before summer vacation."

He laughs again and lobs the ball back to his teammates in one sharp kick before walking away from the field to join me. Andrew gestures that he'll pass in the next game. Ray and the others nod their heads and resume to the practice

"Why are you even practicing today?" I ask, shifting to sit properly again and picking up my book. "Summer vacation's in three days. Varsity season's over."

Andrew shrugs his shoulders.

"It's not all about competition. Soccer's just a fun game. But Ray's been obsessed with practice ever since we lost in the finals... so there's also that."

Andrew grabs his tumbler and takes a long swig. Andrew's eyes drift down, and I catch him staring at my knee. He tilts his head slightly.

"I've been meaning to ask about that scar. How'd you get it?" he asks.

I glance down, my fingers brushing over the faint, jagged line just below my kneecap. It's old, but still obvious against my skin.

"I fell off a cliff five years ago. I was being chased by a bunch of dumb high school bullies. I tripped, rolled, scraped up my knees, and hit my head pretty bad," I say, flipping a page in my book.

Andrew winces. "Damn. I know kids can be jerks, but that's brutal. I didn't think high schoolers were that ruthless."

I let out