Page 47

“It won’t count toward official ranking, but I figured it’s time we put whatever this is,” I gesture vaguely at the mess of them, “to the test.” The announcement does exactly what I need it to, drawing panic to the forefront. Good, maybe the uncoordinated idiots that managed to make the team will start playing like they actually want to be here. It’s about time we found some unity around here.

Yesterday’s restaurant disaster has left me with too many questions and not nearly enough answers. Thiago saw too much, Meg left with him, Cody is slipping further from my reach, and I woke to a text message from my father’s assistant asking for an update on ‘Meg-Gate’.

Shrugging the tension out of my shoulders, I remind myself that I’m done playing any games that aren’t lacrosse. This field has rules, rehearsed plays and discipline. That’s what I need more of in my life. To stop being everyone’s puppet and find a way to steady my mind. More importantly, lacrosse gives me a reason to keep Meg here, where I can see her at all times.

As the team grumbles, I silence them with a whistle and send them to run laps. They scatter across the turf, sticks in hand, feet pounding into an even rhythm. All except Meg. She stays rooted in place, fury already rippling off her in waves. I can sense Thiago’s stare burning into my back, but I refuse to pay him any attention. Flowers yesterday, front-row cheerleader today. What a wet sponge. Not that Meg needs him to be anything else, she can handle herself perfectly fine. Cough, thanks to me, cough.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” she snaps. “We’re not ready for a match. We haven’t even locked down positions yet, let alone figured out how to play as a team.” Keeping my face impassive, I hide the smile that wants to slip through. Passed-out-drunk-me has the best ideas.

“That’s exactly why you’re going to be here every day until the match, helping whip this team into shape,” I reply, stepping closer. Meg tips her chin up to hold my gaze, her nostrils cutely flaring like they usually do when she looks at me. “I’ve already spoken to Dean Colt. You’ve been cleared from your classes. We show up, we put in the work, and we focus. No distractions.”

My eyes slide aside before I can stop them, the smugness radiating from me now. If Thiago thinks I’m letting him drift into Meg’s life unchallenged, he has wildly underestimated how much spite I can fuel on three hours of sleep and a public rejection.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Meg spits, my intentions not lost on her. “You didn’t get your way, so now you’re throwing a fucking power trip?”

Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Lowering my eyes to her beautiful face, I almost shudder at the venom in her voice. Her eyes are blazing now, her arched brows pinched tightly. Licking my lips, I force my tone to stay level.

“You need to be here, Meg, and you need to be present. How are you supposed to find your way back to yourself with him filling your time with googly eyes and dinner dates?” Taking a measured step back before she hits me, because getting a raging erection whilst her so-called boyfriend is watching wasn’t on my agenda for today, Meg’s expression hardens over.

“I’m not going back to how I used to be,” she states with an edge that slices through every half-formed plan in my skull. “She’s gone for good.” For the first time all morning, I don’t have a response ready.

How can I put into words that the version of Meg she claims is ‘gone for good’ is standing right in front of me? The same girl who stood opposite me on this very field and refused to admit defeat, even after she’d lost. The same woman who came to my office, knowing and taking exactly what she wanted without regret. The same queen who was unaware that she ruled this campus alongside me.

“I liked you that way. You were stubborn and tenacious,” I admit, offering a snippet of what I wish I could say. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re so far gone, Meg wouldn’t believe me anyway. Bristling further, Meg huffs.

“I’m getting really fucking sick of people thinking they can label me,” she bites out. The satisfaction I previously felt at coming up with such a fool-proof plan rushes out of me, shame quickly trickling back in. Meg turns away, grabs two sticks from the rack, and throws one at me hard enough that I have to act fast to catch it. A ball drops between us a second later, Meg nudging it forward with her foot before working it into her stick with more control than she realizes. There she is again. Not the old Meg. Not a new Meg. Just her in all her glory.

“Come on then,” she mutters, and I don’t hesitate. I don’t smile either, as much as I want to. I haven’t exactly won, but as the ball leaves her stick and I move, it kinda feels like I have. Muscle memory takes over, the rest of the world fading out. On the pitch, there’s no room to think of my father, of plots and plans, of Thiago, not even of Cody. Out here, I can just be a regular guy going toe to toe with the girl that has always brought out the best and worst in him.

Our sticks collide, the plastic cracking loud enough to make heads turn. I hook the ball from her control, but she’s on me instantly, her shoulder clipping mine and body driving forward with more force than her frame should have after everything it’s endured. She rebounds but I don’t. Frustration flashes in Meg’s blue eyes, and I warm at the sight. This is my favorite part. When anyone else would fall back, she keeps coming.

Meg fights dirty, an illegal move gaining her the ball back, and I almost laugh. Stubborn and tenacious, just like I said. Spinning back, she tries to change direction but I’m already two steps ahead. Our sticks clash again, the impact traveling up my arms, through my chest, into places I’ve been trying to numb with whiskey and self-sabotage. The team slows, their laps forgotten as they watch their captains battle for the upper hand.

As I attempt a feint, Meg steps into my path to block, clearly having studied my plays as much as I’ve studied hers. That’s when I realize there won’t be a winner here, only a clash of wills. Our bodies collide hard enough to knock the breath from us. For a fraction of a second, we’re chest to chest, her eyes locked on mine, heat and a challenge sparking within the narrow space. I shove away before I become too wrapped up in her eyes, her smell, her warmth. The ball comes loose, and we both dive for it. Meg’s knee hits the turf, my shoulder catching hers, and the team’s collective inhale is almost louder than the impact.

If I were a gentleman, I might have checked her over to check there’s no damage, but I’ve seen Meg take harder hits. Even if I hadn’t, I know she’d rather shove me aside than let me treat her as weak.

Shooting upright, I drive for the goal. My strides eat up the pitch, my stick lifts, and the ball rockets into the net with a clean, satisfying thud. Silence follows, then murmurs, reminding me of our audience. Maybe I got a little carried away there, caught up in the excitement of playing a real match with her again.

Turning back, I find Meg bent over, her hands braced on her thighs while she drags in air. Sweat beads along the back of her neck, her face flushed, furious, and alive.

“See, there she is,” I crouch in front of her, mentally checking her over whilst hiding behind a smile. She wouldn’t appreciate my concern either way. “You can’t outrun who you are. No matter how pretty of a fantasy it is. We’re ingrained to compete, driven by the need to prove ourselves.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Meg heaves out. I shrug one shoulder, letting the comment hang between us. It’s true she’s nothing like me, and I plan to keep it that way. Straightening, I collect Meg’s crosse and shove it back into her hands, my gaze flicking beyond her to the stands where Thiago has gone still.

“Your little friend should have accepted my terms. I will have my way, even if I need to chain you to this field to get it.” The second those words leave my mouth, I hear them for the threat they are, yet I don’t rush to take them back. I wait for the fall out. The next vile insult, the next harsh comment, but none of that comes. Instead, a small smile breaks out across Meg’s face and my own seems to alter. It mounts into a laugh, a breathless burst that echoes around the pitch and confuses everyone who’s watching, especially me.

“I don’t even need to be here. You need me to be.” Meg spears me with a last look of pity, drops the crosse onto the grass and walks away.

There’s no argument. No desperate attempt to prove herself. Just the sight of her turning her back on me and crossing the pitch. My pulse hammers against my ribs as Thiago moves from the stands to meet her, falling into step beside her without crowding. He doesn’t reach for her, doesn’t try to steer her, doesn’t ask for an explanation. He simply appears where she needs him and lets her lead like the lapdog he is. I hate him. I envy him.

Standing in the middle of the field with the team watching from a distance, I finally understand the mistake I made. I thought planning the match against Radley would force Meg to show up here, occupying her time in my company until I figure out a better option. Yet I know better than anyone, Meg doesn’t respond well to being caged. She never has, not even before she was abducted from right beneath my nose.

Barking an order for the team to stop standing around gawking, I storm towards the girl’s temporary locker room without pausing to answer a single stupid question that’s thrown my way. Meg is already at her locker, shoving clothes into her bag. Thiago stands nearby, radiating a quiet calm that I’ve never been able to manage. Anytime I’m quiet, people assume I’m calculating some devious plan, just like my father I suppose.

“I’ll shower at yours,” Meg tells him over her shoulder, and my fists clench. Trying to get close to her isn’t working. All I’m doing is driving her further into his arms. As Meg zips up her bag, my brain enters full panic mode. If she leaves now, I will lose more than a captain. I lose the only piece of this plan that might keep Nicholas focused on me instead of Cody. I lose the girl I thought I was manipulating and have somehow ended up orbiting. Worst of all, I lose the chance to tell her the truth before she has no use for me anymore.

I step inside the room, disturbing the stilted calm she had found. Her blue eyes land on me and immediately roll.