Thunder (Big Boys of Beaumont High Book 1) Read online

  Thunder

  Big Boys of Beaumont High

  Allie Scott

  Copyright © 2020 Allie Scott All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Cover: Jenny Evans Designs

  (Photo courtesy of Adobe Stock)

  Editor: J. Leigh Editing

  This book is dedicated to the inventor of football pants.

  Thank you for what you’ve done for us all.

  Sincerely,

  All women, men, & they/thems

  P.S. Thanks to the trainers for making them do all those squats, too.

  We didn’t forget about you. *wink*

  Chapter 1

  Kyle

  “Thunder! Thunder! Thunder!”

  The student section chants my name. The sound reverberates across the field, flowing around us as we meet at the line of scrimmage. Some would relish in the sound, but I just block it all out. My focus is on the asshole across from me instead. The one who keeps trash talking, saying things he thinks will rile me up. Idiot.

  I’m going to knock this cocky fucker out, then I’m going to get this game wrapped up. I’ve got better things to do than to stand around surrounded by all these sweaty shitheads who think being good at football makes up for a lack of brain cells. Spoiler alert – it doesn’t.

  Preparing for the play to be called out, I brace my body for the attack. As a defensive lineman for the Beaumont Jaguars, it is my job to prevent the opposing team from getting through our line. I take my job very seriously, following all the rules the coaches set forth. I’m the most dedicated guy on this team.

  I’m the first at practice. I add extra weight to each workout, and I add extra reps most days. I even eat the stupid shakes our trainer suggests instead of the sweets I always want to devour.

  I’d kill for a fucking cookie right now. I wonder if the lack of sugar is what’s got me even more impatient today. My skin feels hot, my jersey too tight. Something is off, but I can’t pinpoint it. Something big is headed my way. I can tell.

  The cocky offensive lineman across from me is still going on and on. Something about my mama and how good she fucked him last night. Haha. Real funny there, bud. My mom is addicted to my father, their love a bit sickening actually. They’ve been together for almost twenty years now.

  But yeah, I get it. The “your mom” jokes have been most guys go-to since middle school. Gets old, but it’s the name of the game.

  Hearing the whistle blow, I lock my legs, the powerhouse of my body. This guy isn’t getting past me no matter what he does. He’s wasted all the time he could have been focusing on reading my movements with his word vomit.

  “Wonder why they chant Thunder?” He looks over at me, surprised that I’ve finally spoken. After three and a half quarters of meeting up, I’ve been a stonewall of silence up to now.

  Talking is such a waste. Why go on and on about things? Be a person of action. That speaks way more than words do. And this guy is about to find out just what it means to be hit by the ‘Thunder’.

  I bet you’re wondering how I got the nickname, right?

  It’s thanks to my legs that I was christened with the name Thunder. More specifically, my thighs. They say I have thunder thighs. At first, I thought they were calling me fat, since that was what I thought it meant. But turns out that having tree trunks for legs are a good thing.

  At some point someone noticed I always lock my legs right before a play, the motion creating an impenetrable barrier between me and the other team. The motion helps me to propel at the whistle, defeating my opponent before they’ve even moved an inch.

  They also say it sounds like thunder when I run. Whether on the field, or on the rare occasion I have to run through the halls at school, the sound is booming and loud, reminding everyone of the sound of thunder during a storm. At six-foot-six and two hundred sixty pounds, it’s hard to not be loud.

  Add to the fact that my two best friends are as big as I am, then you definitely get some sound when we walk around together. But I’m the only one they call Thunder. Davis “Ace” Adams and Jason “Rocket” Turner each earned their own nicknames before we all grew into our size. Mine took a little longer to earn. Theirs are more focused on their sports, unlike mine.

  Coming back to the game, I hear the quarterback for the other team make the call. The center snaps the ball to him, the sound music to my ears.

  Now the fun starts.

  The guy across from me rushes forward, his intent clear. Idiot thinks he can take me. He’s wrong. The moment he hits me, his body jolts, falling back to the grass. He lays there for a moment, the look on his face is priceless.

  While he’s lost in his thoughts, I push to the side to stop another player. No one gets past my line. Everyone knows this. The second player falls, right as one of my teammates sacks the quarterback.

  As reigning State Champs, every team we play tries and fails. They all want our title. But they won’t get it. Not this year anyway. I’ll graduate in the Spring, and after that it’s up to the lowerclassmen to continue our legacy. I can only worry about myself.

  When the whistle blows again, I stop moving, my body turning to the referee. I’m notorious for getting flags thrown on me. I tend to forget how strong I am when in the moment, my frustration propels me harder than I realize. And it might also be that I’ve broken a few bones in my day. Eh, it’s part of the game.

  This time it’s not for that reason though. He’s calling the game, declaring our team the winners. Just like that, it’s over. Another Friday night, another win. I kiss my hand, raising it to the sky quickly, my end of game ritual complete.

  Walking toward the sidelines, I catch a glimpse of my two best friends as they sit off to the side. They rarely join the student section, the noise too loud and their size too large to fit in with the others. I make eye contact, the smug grin on my face forming as I walk up to the rails they’re leaning on.

  “You boys learn anything tonight?”

  “Yeah, you don’t fuck with Kyle ‘Thunder’ Smith on the football field.” Davis gives me a fist bump.

  “Yeah. Or off the field either?” Jason’s words are meant to ruffle me, but instead I just shove his head under my arm, the sweat and stench enough punishment for him bringing up my virginity out in public like this. Not like he has any room to talk anyway. He’s in the same boat as me.

  “Let me get changed, and we’ll head out.”

  Both of them nod at me, then dive off into a conversation about some new shoes that are releasing next month. I leave them to their discussion, the two of them more addicted to the latest release more than anyone else I’ve ever seen. I can’t even go to the mall with them without having to drag them from all the different shoe stores. I think it’s a sickness. I’m just glad I haven’t caught it.

  I turn to head into the locker room when I see her. Alice Stone. The one person who I would give anything for a chance with.

  She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But she’s not mine. And she can’t be. In fact, I’m pretty sure she hates me.

  Even now, when our eyes catch, she looks into mine with so much anger. I think she’d claw my eyes out if she could reach them. At five-foot-two, I don’t think it will happen anytime soon. Plus, we’ve never been close enough for that
to happen.

  We’ve been in the same classes since middle school, yet I’ve spoken maybe three words to her. I’d give anything for just a shot at her. Just one chance to show her I’m not the bad guy she seems to think I am. That I’m more than the nickname everyone gave me. That whatever I did to upset her isn’t all there is.

  But that won’t happen. Guys like me don’t end up with girls like her. She’s perfect in every way. I’m just the guy who’s good at football. We’d never work.

  Turning, I head into the tunnel with my head down to avoid getting stopped by anyone. I just need to clean up and get back to the guys. I push thoughts of Alice from my mind, knowing it’s only just a dream.

  Chapter 2

  Alice

  There he goes again.

  The boy who’s been in my dreams since seventh grade when he helped me pick up my books after Joey Thorn knocked them out of my hands. Joey was a bully in the worst way back then. He hit his growth spurt before everyone else, and decided to take it out on those of us who were smaller.

  But Kyle wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t care what it took. No one took advantage of the little guy if he was nearby. He was the protector for us all. I fell in love with him a little that day.

  That love grew over time. With each stolen glance I let the feeling build inside of me. But he has no idea. Why would he? I’ve never gotten the courage to talk to him. To tell him.

  I watch him walk down the tunnel toward the locker room, his uniform like a second skin, the material hugging him in all the right places. At six-foot-six, there’s plenty of him to admire. There’s muscle on top of muscle on his body, but the real treat is his lower body.

  They call him thunder for his thighs and the power they have. In my opinion, they aren’t the real star of the show.

  Kyle’s ass is phenomenal.

  It’s perfection.

  If the Kardashians knew he existed, they’d be flying to our town to snatch him up as an honorary member. It’s that big. I’m not exaggerating.

  Watching him take each step, I see the muscle in it flex. It’s like watching those scenes in Baywatch where the lifeguards ran in slow-mo. I can’t look away.

  “You’re drooling.”

  Becky’s voice breaks through my haze. My hand reaching up to feel around my mouth, her words an actual possibility. There have been many, many times I’ve drooled over Kyle “Thunder” Smith. Usually I wait until he’s turned around, but lately I’ve been slipping. It’s gotten harder to resist the temptation he presents.

  “Why don’t you just go talk to him? This crush of yours has gone on long enough, Alice.” Becky reaches up to grab my shoulders. She shakes me gently, the motion bringing a smile to my face.

  “You’re a total babe. He’d jump your bones in a heartbeat.”

  “Freaking A, Becks! Can you keep your voice down? I don’t want everyone to know.”

  “Why don’t you want everyone to know? Are you embarrassed?” She looks at me, her head tilted in question.

  “Of course I’m embarrassed.” Her eyes widen, the shock apparent. “Have you seen him? He’s way out of my league. He’s the reason we made it to the playoffs last year. With the way he’s playing, we’re bound to make it there again. And his look. God, Becks! He looks like the perfect mix of the Hulk and Bruce Banner. It’s the best of both worlds and completely unattainable.”

  “Ok, first things first, bitch. You gotta lead with the fact that you think you’re the problem. I thought you were going to say something was wrong with Thunder.”

  I gasp at her, shaking my head in denial. “Absolutely not. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

  “But you’ve seen Jason Mamoa, so that’s not true.”

  I roll my eyes at her, her love for the actor a long-standing joke between us. She’d drop everything to be with him, but he’s already taken. She admires from afar instead, comparing every other man to him.

  “No one is hotter than Mamoa for you, B. We don’t count him.”

  “Well in that case, yeah, I could see your point.”

  I throw my hands up, my exasperation clear. Becky loves to go off on these tangents in the middle of a lecture, but then she completely skips the rest of what she meant to say. I always have to remind her.

  “What else were you going to say? You stopped in your quest to defend your celebrity husband.”

  “Huh? Oh, right. Back to the point. You are absolutely a gift to anyone you are around. Don’t sell yourself short. Thunder would be lucky to have you.”

  I snort at her words, the thought amusing to me. Of course she feels that way, but in reality, I’m rather plain. I’m super short, with pale skin and short brown hair. I don’t have the biggest boobs or the largest ass. Plain Jane is the phrase I’ve heard a time or two.

  She smacks me in the arm, then grabs my hand to pull me out to the car. We’re headed to another party. This one will be just like the others, bodies crammed wall to wall celebrating the football team.

  I always zone out when we go, the people and the energy boring me. I know why, too. Kyle never comes. He’s practically the star of the team, but he never goes. I’d be into them if he were there.

  At least it would give me a chance to watch him more. To watch the way his body moves through the room, his steps strong and sure. From his broad shoulders, barely fitting through most doors, to his massive hands, built to tear his opponents apart, the man is just deliciously thick.

  And watching him, I’d always make sure to catch him walking away, too. That ass of his is worth watching again and again. It’s captivating for sure.

  “Move it, Alice! Fashionably late and lazy don’t share a zip code.”

  I climb into Becky’s little compact car shaking myself free from my thoughts of Kyle. He’s not mine. He doesn’t even know I exist.

  Chapter 3

  Kyle

  “Come on man! You never go to these things. Just this once,” David pleads. He’s doing the stupid puppy dog eyes, the ones that always work on his mom. I roll my eyes at his foolishness.

  “Yeah dude. I get that our size means we are usually loners, but it’s senior year. This is it. I don’t want to leave high school saying I never went to a party because I was afraid I’d break a chair or something.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Jason, it was one time. One damn time that one of us broke something like that. You gotta let it go, man.”

  Jason shakes his head at Davis, his expression letting me know that the honest fear of embarrassment is not something he’ll let go. To be honest, it’s a small fear for me, too. But that’s not the reason I don’t go to the parties every week.

  I just don’t want to be around all of those people. They are all fake. Some are too nice, trying to kiss ass to be popular. Funny thing is – I’m not popular. Sure, people chant out that nickname each week, but no one knows me. No one cares about Kyle.

  Well, except for the two idiots beside me who are now fighting over weight limits on furniture.

  “If you two fools will just shut up, then I’ll agree to go this one time.” Both of them break out into a cheer. Their actions draw the attention of the few people hanging around after the game.

  “Great. We’ll take my truck. You two goons can both fit in that thing rather than Davis’ car.” Jason takes off, his stride full of purpose as we head across the parking lot.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” My grumpy mood doesn’t faze my two best friends, both of them used to my negative nature.

  The entire car ride is filled with the two of them going on and on about some new changes in their departments. Davis is getting a new coach this year, while Jason just has to work extra hard due to his newly claimed Captain status.

  When we finally pull up to the house, I practically dive from the truck. As an introvert, having two extroverted friends can be tiresome. I can already feel my social meter shrinking. I’m going to have to find a quiet place later to hide out away from the chaos. I’ll worry
about that later though. Time to make an entrance.

  “Thunder! Rocket! Ace! The three athletically-gifted musketeers are here.” Brian, a member of the track team, welcomes up. “Glad you all could make it. Drinks are in the kitchen. If a door is locked, stay out. That’s it. Have fun.”

  He turns around and begins to dive between two freshmen girls who are dancing together as they try to hide the fact they’ve been watching our entire exchange just now.

  “Let’s get a drink before we mingle.” Jason slaps his hands together, victory written in his face already. Being the only one of us who isn’t a virgin, I know he’s looking to score tonight.

  “Do you think he realizes how creepy he looks when he puts on his hunting face?” Davis leans over to me as he fake whispers.

  “Shhh, silly kids. Daddy’s looking for trouble.”

  “Chill with the Daddy stuff, dude. Not cool.” Davis shivers at the thought, his movement making me bark out a laugh.

  We head toward the general direction of the kitchen. As we move through the students, they part naturally creating plenty of space for the three of us.

  There are some perks to our size I guess.

  It also helps that I can see over most everyone’s heads. I lead us through the big open area of Brian’s house, the mini mansion unlike the normal homes in town. Brian’s parents founded some computer superchip technology and then sold it to the government. Basically, they’re filthy rich.

  Stepping into the kitchen, I see Parker, our freshmen kicker, is on drink duty. I walk up to him, my strides sure even though I’m not all that sure of all this.

  Parties are not my thing and every minute that I’m here feels like a minute too long.

  “What will it be, you three? Name your poison and I can make it for you,” he tells us, pride filling his voice. Why he’d ever be proud of playing bartender in a high school party is lost to me.

  “Whatever you got is fine.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend, causing him to drop the cups in his hand. He laughs it off quickly, picking up new ones to dish out drinks.