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His eyebrows twitched together, then he laughed. “Is that a joke, or…”
“I’m serious. I have feelings for someone else, and it’s not fair to you.” I hadn’t planned what to say, and distantly wondered if I was actually telling him the truth, as crazy as that was. Did hate count as feelings? Because I definitely had heaps of hate for Cassian, even if they sometimes got tangled up and confused with the signals my body sent when he was around.
“Who is it?” He’d taken his arms off me and was standing stiff now. The muscles on his smooth jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth again and again.
“Nobody you know. It’s just… You’re a really good guy, and you deserve someone who can give you all of themselves. Not just parts.”
“Is it Cassian?”
“What? No. It’s—”
“Because you’ve been staying at his house. Are you two screwing around? Is that it? Has he touched you?”
“No. And I don’t appreciate your tone, either.”
Clint threw his hands up, walking in a slow circle before turning and jabbing one arm in my direction. “You don’t appreciate my tone? Sorry, Charli. I don’t appreciate getting led on, getting my ass kicked, and then getting told you’ve been screwing around behind my back.”
“If you’re going to keep making up some version of how this happened, then there’s no reason for me to keep talking.”
“Charli…” He reached for my hands, suddenly softening his voice. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No. You’re right. You shouldn’t appreciate this. And you shouldn’t forgive me. I’ll find my own ride home, okay? I really am sorry, Clint.” I made myself walk away and brush past Zoe and Matt, who were watching with interest.
“Charli?” Zoe called.
“I’ll catch up with you.” I said, feeling my voice threatening to break. I quickly paid for a ticket to the game and took a seat in the Calvary section of bleachers. I didn’t want any of them to come try to talk me down or ask what had happened.
I sat in a section mostly dominated by faculty, parents, and young kids, hoping to disappear for a while.
It was only when I looked out toward the field that I realized Cassian was out there. I hadn’t even thought about it when I agreed to come tonight. I imagined we’d spend our time standing by the fence, hanging out, and eating cheap hamburgers. I tried not to look for him, but I scanned the sidelines. Parker was on defense, and it didn’t take long to spot Cassian. He was taller than almost everyone on the team, except for Logan and Tristan, who stood at roughly the same height.
Cassian’s helmet was off, and his hair was a sweaty mess. He gripped the collar of his pads, and I couldn’t help noticing how his bare, tanned stomach was visible under them. I could see the dark line of muscle forming a “V” from his pelvis, even across the field.
Stop, Charli.
I put my hands over my eyes and looked down, promising I was just going to watch the game. But when I looked back up, it was at him.
And he was looking straight back at me with a knowing twist of his lips. He blew me a kiss, then trotted out to join the offense as they took the field.
I hated that I blushed.
I actually blushed.
And then I watched him. In fact, I found it almost impossible to take my eyes off him once I saw him play. There was so much anger and ferocity in the way he carried the ball. I watched play after play of Tristan Blackwood handing the ball to Cassian. Every time, the sound of him colliding with the opposing players was like thunderbolts.
The more I watched, the surer I was he didn’t care about the game. He probably didn’t even know the score. All Cassian wanted was the impact. He wanted that moment of collision. Of his will meeting another will so he could continue proving his was the strongest.
A little before halftime, a player from Calvary caught Cassian from the side and knocked him out of bounds. The refs blew their whistles, but the player gave Cassian an extra shove while he was off balance, forcing him to crash into a table full of drinks.
Within seconds, chaos broke out. Half the Calvary players were shoving and pushing, and the entire Parker team was charging toward the melee. I saw Cassian in the center of it all. He ripped off someone’s helmet and started punching.
Just before it all got broken up by coaches, I recognized the face of the guy he was smashing.
Hugh. The same asshole from the party at the log mansion.
Hugh and Cassian were still talking to each other as their teams and coaches pulled them away. Cassian’s lip was bloody, and Hugh had a cut on his forehead leaking blood into his eye.
