Page 206 of Ruthless Court

“I liked you better before you started talking.”

“No, you didn’t.”

She steals a handful of popcorn.

“You just met me.”

“And I already know your type.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Sure.”

Kane keeps smiling as he jogs back on defense.

I lift the popcorn bucket and point toward the scoreboard.

Get your head in the game.

His grin turns dangerous.

Stella watches us with the expression of someone who believes she has already read the ending.

I wish I felt as certain.

Fifteen

KANE

The final horn sounds with Stanford up by twelve.

The arena erupts.

Our bench empties onto the court. Eli crashes into my shoulder. Noah grabs Vale around the neck. The student section jumps in one red wave while the pep band tries to overpower twenty thousand voices.

I look straight at the player guest section.

Hannah’s chair is empty.

So is Stella’s.

The fresh box of Twizzlers is gone. The popcorn bucket and Diet Cokes have vanished too. The women beside them are already fixing their hair before the cameras pan across the lower rows.

I scan the aisle.

No chunky sweater.

No high bun.

No tortoiseshell glasses.

“Haverhill.”

A hand lands against my chest.

An ESPN reporter waits near the sideline with a microphone. The camera operator backs into position while a producer points toward the court.

Right.