“It hasn’t been easy to win without our two strikers.” Ronan’s tone and expression turn to sorrowful before he grins. “But yours truly can transform into a striker any day, bitches! King and Knight, who?”
“Fuck you, Astor,” Xander mumbles from beside him and everyone else laughs.
“La ferme, Knight. Don’t kill my vibe.” Ronan goes back to grinning. “Anyway, let’s ignore Knight’s bitter arse. We have a special guest tonight. Our own Premier League star. Let’s welcome our previous captain, Levi King!”
“He had to do it,” Levi mutters under his breath. “Fucker.”
The rest of the football team cheers and hits the table like crazy.
Ronan points at Levi and shouts. “Come here, Captain!”
“Captain, captain, captain…” The rest chant, led by Ronan and Cole.
Levi grunts and starts to leave, but stops and looks down at me. “Remember what I told you about Aiden being a stage five freak?”
I nod once.
“He’s also a stage five creeper. It’s better if you stay away from him.” He winks. “For your sake, not his.”
And then he’s gone.
I stare at his back, incredulous, as the football team members clasp him in bro hugs.
What on earth does he mean by ‘for your sake, not his’?
“First of all,” Levi says in a joking tone, glaring down at Ronan. “I’m only here to get my dickhead cousin, so fuck you for the speech setup, Astor.”
“Come on, Captain.” Ronan waves him off. “Some encouraging words for the championship.”
“If you don’t get it again this year…” Levi trails off. “You’ll be punished, captain style.”
They all grunt, except for Ronan who jumps up. “Nah, you’re not our captain anymore.” He grins, clasping Cole by the shoulder. “Nash is.”
Levi raises an eyebrow. “And who do you think gave Nash that captain position.”
They all break out in a dispute, except for Cole who watches them with a smile, shaking his head.
Levi put Cole as captain? It’s weird that he didn’t pick Aiden, considering that he’s his cousin.
“Ellie!”
I rip my attention from the football team to Kim who’s grinning as she holds onto a brunette’s elbow.
“This is Astrid.” Kim beams. “Astrid Clifford, you know, the one I told you I sat with during last year’s games.”
I smile at Astrid and her glowing aura. She’s rocking simple overall shorts and fishnet stockings. It’s cute in a girly kind of way.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen her. Her rocky relationship with Levi had been the talk of RES last year. I even caught Aiden hanging out around her.
Actually, Astrid and Silver are the only two girls Aiden has associated himself with.
Not that I’ve been watching him or anything.
“Astrid, this is my best friend, Elsa.”
“Elsa.” Astrid rolls my name off her tongue with a discreet smile.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She laughs, waving her hand. “I just heard so much about you and the only names I got were Frozen and Ice Princess. I’m glad to know your real name.”
I wince.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” She clasps my hand. “I’m really glad to finally meet Aiden’s obsession.”
“Wait. What?” My lips part open.
“He used to watch you all the time.”
She’s about to say something when her gaze strays to where Levi stands with the football team.
An electric current passes between them and I find myself caught in the way they watch each other.
It’s like they’re the only two people in the room.
The longing and the passion are so tangible, I almost taste it on my tongue. My chest squeezes for no apparent reason.
“Come here, princess,” Levi shouts.
“Yes, my queen.” Ronan yells. “Let’s have a drinking competition for old times’ sake.”
“In your fucking dreams,” Levi growls at him.
“I’m in.” Astrid laughs then looks at me and Kim. “Let’s go.”
Kim takes her hand, but I shake my head. “It’s not my scene, but thanks for offering.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Kim gives me a reprimanding look as she follows Astrid to the middle of the party. Ronan is already preparing the drinks with the help of his teammates.
Time to search for a hole where I can hide for the rest of the party — and watch Kim.
She’s on her second — or third shot. We’re definitely not driving back to her house.
A taxi it is.
My gaze gets lost in the crowd as if I’m searching for something.
Or someone.
Nope. I’m absolutely not searching for him.
I head to the reception-style table to pick something to eat.
Here’s to hoping it’s not all junk food.
I collide against a hard chest. Ow. Seriously, what’s with colliding into people today?
Only this time… it’s different.
A strong arm surrounds my waist with ease. I feel his warmth and smell his familiar, head-turning scent before seeing him. My heart does that slight jump that turns my insides upside down.
I step back, but I can’t go far since he’s gripping me tight by the waist. When I lift my head, I’m greeted by the smokiest, most turbulent eyes. Something unreadable forms a sheen in his gaze.
A week.
It’s been less than a week since I saw him, but it feels like forever.
That strong jaw, the straight nose, and the jet black hair seem like a far, distant memory.
Only… they’re not.
Aiden is dashing in the school’s uniform, but he’s irresistible in simple jeans and a black T-shirt. He carries the nonchalant vibe so well, it’s almost unfair.
My gaze locks on the cut near the corner of his mouth. I shouldn’t be feeling guilty considering that I’ve done nothing wrong, but I still do. It doesn’t delight me to see him hurt.
I’m not that person.
The chaos of the drinking competition, the music, and the chants cease to exist.
It’s only me and him now.
Me and my tormenter.
I reach up and touch the pad of my forefinger to the cut on his lip. “Does it hurt?”
He yanks my hand free and holds it prisoner in his.
“You’re getting good at lying, sweetheart.” His eyes gleam, but they’re not playful. They’re downright sinister. “You got me for a second there.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to pretend that you care about me.”
He thought I was pretending? Screw him.
And screw me for actually having that lapse of judgement.
I lift my chin. “I don’t care about you.”
“Is that so?”
“Not at all, Aiden. You’re nothing to me.”
“Nothing, huh?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
I don’t get a warning.
Aiden’s lips crash to mine in an animalistic frenzy. I don’t get to think or breathe.
All I can do is… feel.
Still holding me by the waist, his other hand grabs my nape in a possessive hold.