Practice sucked more than usual. Coach was showing off, which really just meant we were working twice as hard to back up his shit-talking.
We had an hour break to eat between practice ending and the game beginning. Every guy on the team knew weighing yourself down was the worst thing you could do for yourself.
I didn't even bother changing out of my under armor, it was going to stay on under my gear anyways.
I walked right by the cheerleader playing coy with me earlier, throwing a smile her way, and making sure I brushed past her enough to get her attention.
I wasn't actually interested.
Hell, she didn't have purple hair and an attitude problem, so my dick really counted himself out. It was worth having her smile at me again, the rival, a small confidence boost.
The coffee cart outside was almost always open and stocked. If I couldn't have food before a game, at least I could pour some acidic coffee into my empty stomach.
The guy wouldn't even take the money I pushed forward. Instead, he told me, “Just win tonight.”
And yet, they wondered why my ego was bullet proof, and I wore an invisible crown.
No one ever stopped to think they elected me. They built me up, and the monster I am was really because of them.
I was avoiding Nyx, like a bitch, and using my hour to walk around campus, far from the field and my teammates. It was eerily quiet.
The cheerleaders were most likely warming up, and the rest of campus was gearing up for the game. Everyone always attended, even if you didn't care for football. It was the blue and maroon running through their veins, the school pride.
I walked past the girls’ dormitory when Arianna flew out in a hurry, and I took a big step back moving out of the way of her clumsiness.
Her legs were bare. She wore socks that landed at her ankles and a cheerleading skirt more modest than our rivals, but by no means long, which landed mid-thigh.
Her arms were covered with white spandex and her purple hair was pulled into a high ponytail with a big bow hiding the fact that it was purple.
I couldn't rip my eyes from her. This was the most I'd seen of her, and it felt like a move on her part.
Teasing me.
“Why aren't you on the field?” she asked me, while smoothing down her skirt, like that would magically make it longer.
“We always have an hour break between same day practice and the game.”
Shocking her and even myself, my voice wasn't rude or condescending. It was void of all the dark feelings that transformed my words into jabs.
I searched her legs for any obvious marks. The same kind we each had and the light bulb in my head went off.
Fuck waiting for Cheyanne’s voodoo magic bullshit. I made sure to circle her catch the back side of her thighs with my gaze as I sat down on the steps, hiding my real objective.
She probably just assumed I was objectifying her; that part was true too. Arianna had the best pair of unblemished legs I had ever seen. Minus her Doc Martens, I could actually appreciate their length, their perfect cappuccino colored skin, and how much I was dying to have them wrapped around me—to be her throne again.
“I'm not fulfilling some cheerleader fantasy if you win tonight.” She definitely felt my eyes glaze over her skin.
“You sure about that? I'll even put my phone on silent.”
She folded her arms under her chest, not having the effect she wanted. I was busy making this my new personal favorite fantasy. “I don't make the same mistakes twice, Bolton.”
“Mistakes are just obstacles. Thought you were a fighter, Arianna.”
I got up, walking away from my words, which I was sure held the weight I wanted them to. I didn't get far before she caught up completely. We were both headed to the field for the game.
I knew a shortcut that led right to the boys' locker room. I knew all the shortcuts. She was babbling on about our project, when I stopped listening.
Right outside the entrance to the guys’ locker room, my hand quickly caught her hip and gently pushed her against the wall. Her lips were parted, and her eyes begged me for what I was about to do next. I leaned down into her space, tilted my head to the right, and let her soft lips press against mine innocently.
I pulled away only enough to throw in her face: “Anyone tell you that you talk too much?”
Her palm hit my chest, but I didn't move. Compared to on the field, that was a light breeze on a fall day. My forearm was still against the wall, and I was still leaning into her.
“What was that for?”
I pushed off the wall leaving her devoid of an answer altogether, and I pulled open the door to make my way down the hallway to the locker room. I didn't notice that she followed me, until I heard her footsteps—light taps behind me.
I didn't turn around or speak, hiding my smirk, as I tasted her still on my lips. Peaches, Chapstick, and all the spark that crackled against my lips like the unused body parts they were.
“Just because we made out one time doesn't mean you can do whatever you want.”
I pushed open the big double doors and quickly came to the conclusion that while I was stuck on her taste, she just walked into the guys’ locker room.
I debated turning her around and pushing her out the doors.
Instead, I was gonna stay true to who I was: an asshole, who, as Arianna put it, wore an aluminum crown. She was in for the answer to the questions that she was begging me for: Why.
Simply put, she was mine, and no one was going to challenge the king.
Most of the guys were shirtless still, changing from their cardio soaked under gear to dry under armor. It was pointless.
I walked over to my locker, and she followed blissfully ignoring the concerned stares. I was forced to pay attention to her when she leaned next to my locker, only staring at me, expecting a reply.
“Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but you're in the guys’ locker room.”
Her eyes turned a darker hue, and her arms folded again in discontent. “And? Nowhere I haven't been before.”
I smirked down to the floor, avoiding giving her a victory over me. “Remember all the places you aren't supposed to be? This is one of them. We can talk all you want later.”
I pulled my padding up to my waist and secured it against my abs before I closed my locker.
The shoulder pads were all in a bin closest to the wall. She actually stayed next to my locker, probably because of the fear of seeing someone naked without wanting to.
Austin fell out of the formation of guys close to their lockers, padding up, to shoot her direction: “This is a guys’ locker room. Girls’ is across the hall.”
I laughed, grabbing pads and suiting up. I waved her over and pointed to the ties on the side for her to at least make herself useful if she wasn't going to take the warnings.
Nyx shot me a look of concern, before his eyes bobbed to one side, and I saw the coach coming. A girl in the guys’ locker room wouldn't be overlooked—Not even for me.
I grabbed her arm, keeping her in front of me as I snuck her out the door. She didn't like being manhandled, and her frustrated features said it without her having to.
I pulled her into me, letting her knock into my pads before I repeated our kiss from earlier, except this one was stimulated by her attitude. Our tongues touched gently before I pulled away, leaving her still frozen in our kiss.
I whispered between us, “It's called a good luck kiss. If you think I can't kiss you, then storm back in there and watch everyone avert their eyes.” I leaned down into her neck, placing a light kiss below her ear, whispering, “Because I'm king, they won't disobey me, and you're mine.”