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I’m always the first on the field, doing extra stretches and warmups before the rest of the girls’ team joins me. I’m hoping to be named team captain, so I’m trying to lead by example.
The boys’ team practices on the field next to ours, usually at the same time. I should’ve known I’d run into him as I was finishing up.
Rookie mistake.
Caught off guard like this, he has the upper hand. I need to get my wits about me asap before he senses the tiny opening this fissure leaves.
I think people underestimate Rhys.
Unlike his two best friends, he’s easy with a joke, a smile and a good time. While people don’t see him as weak, they seem to believe he’s more lenient than the others.
I've only known him peripherally for a couple weeks but I’ve seen enough to know that’s a big time miscalculation on their part.
I’ve yet to see any behavior that confirms what I believe, but I canfeelthe tension radiating off him. His playful demeanor is deceiving. It hides a dormant predator with sharp teeth and wolfish eyes behind a pretty picture.
But fuck with or betray him and I’m pretty sure that predator would jump out of the picture and maul you to death.
He’d be merciless.
I have no interest in being Big Cat dinner, so that’s why I aim to be prepared around him at all times.
My sharp tongue is my ultimate weapon in this game of ours, but I’m rattled right now.
He takes another bite.
“What are you talking about, Mackley?”
His smile twitches and his jaw pauses momentarily. It’s barely there, but I see it.
He hates when I call him by his last name.
Hates it.
Which is why it’s the only thing I call him. It’s another way of keeping him at a distance no matter how hard he pushes to come closer.
And he pushes hard.
Ever since the day we met, and pretty routinely over the past couple of weeks, he’s made it crystal clear that he wants to sleep with me.
When I catch him looking at me in the halls or the cafeteria, it’s always with such confident intensity that a shiver of fear slithers down my spine in response.
He looks at me like he owns me already.
Like he knows it’s only a matter of time until I break.
I shake my head slightly, trying to get rid of those intrusive thoughts.
He stands to his full height and walks towards me, his gait indolent as he approaches. At just over five foot eight, I’m pretty tall for a girl. In fact, my long stride and associated speed are two of the strengths that make me a threat on the pitch.
But as Rhys’ six foot four body comes to loom over me, it dwarfs my frame.
He’s trying to use his size to intimidate me and force me to take a step back. I refuse to submit to his manipulation tactics, so as a result we’re standing almost chest to chest with my chin tilted completely upward in order to keep our eye contact going.
“Your arse, love,” He says, delivering the word “arse” like he’s talking about the holy grail, “I didn’t mean to pause the show.”
I narrow my eyes at him, finally understanding what he’s talking about.
I’d been bent over, working to loosen my hamstrings when he walked by – and eventually made himself at home behind – me. In that position, he’d have had the perfect view of my ass and not much else.
