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“Yup,” I grumble, reaching into my locker and grabbing my jersey.
Wyatt claps my shoulder and squeezes. “Now you can keep an eye on our girl. A little birdie told me she’s coming tonight since she's off bed rest.”
I perk up at that news. My angel will be here. The wheels in my head are already churning.
“Just don’t get caught,” Wyatt leans in to whisper, and I smirk.
He can always read me like a book. One look, and he knows I’m plotting a way to get Ariah alone. It’s not a want—it’s a must-have.
“I won’t,” I promise, then pull my jersey over my head and leave the padding behind, opting to wear my jeans. If I can’t play, it doesn't make sense to suit up completely, especially not for what I have planned.
I’m putting my pads back into my locker when the coach calls for everyone’s attention. I’m only half listening to the pep talk. Something about winning the game to continue Lincoln-Wood Univeristy’s undefeated streak against one of our division rivals and making the alums proud.
He shouts for us to bring it in, and at this point, I’m just going through the motions—one step closer to who I want—my angel.
I run with the team through the tunnel, nearly gagging at the sight of the witch cheering with her squad. Samantha would be okay if she weren’t such a selfish, evil hag. She could be easy on the eyes or a ten for someone. Not us, but someone out there. Her brother, for instance.
“What has you grinning from ear to ear?” Lev inquires as he searches the stands.
Ignoring his question, I join him. It doesn’t take long for me to spot her. “Found her.”
Lev follows my gaze. “There she is,” he sighs, as lost as I am in her beauty.
She’s glowing. The color has returned to her face—Ariah’s in the box seats with her father, Shay, and Shay’s parents. Tobias Bradford is absent for obvious reasons. Only a select few know he’s back in Edgewood.
“Do you think she’s warm enough,” I mumble, elbowing Lev to look away. Samantha and her trolls are watching, and the last thing we need is for her to throw a temper tantrum on the field. It’s already suspicious that she hasn’t pitched a fit over her mother’s death.
Wes and Wyatt approach as Lev responds, “Yeah. I’d say she’s warm enough between her sweater and the wool blanket Shay just pulled out.”
“I wonder if she’s wearing her new charm bracelet,” Wes ponders out loud.
If I plan this right, I’ll get to see for myself and report back.
“Time for the team huddle,” Coach Briar barks, and the guys run it in. When I don’t move, he shouts, “Jefferson, get your boney half-broken ass over here.”
Grumbling, I jog over in time to hear our initial strategies depending on which way the coin toss goes. The defensive coach is still speaking when the ref blows his whistle. Our captain, who also is our quarterback, runs onto the field. The ref announces the rules for the coin toss before flipping the coin, and since Eastland University is the away team, they get to call it.
“Tails,” their captain yells as the ref catches the coin.
“Heads, Lincoln-Wood gets it,” the ref booms, and our quarterback decides to defer the kickoff, setting us up to receive the ball during the second half. Then, the game begins.
I watch the game but keep a steady eye on Ariah, hoping for a moment to strike. We’re halfway through quarter one, and neither team has any points on the board. EU has the ball and is third and one at the sixty-yard line.
The ball is snapped, and before their quarterback can get in position to see who’s open, our defensive tackle is on him, and as Eastland University’s quarterback falls to the ground, the ball pops out. Both teams scramble for it. EU—hoping to recover it, and LWU—hoping to capitalize off the fumble.
Wes scoops up the ball and shoots up the field, dodging offensive players. He’s nearly clipped at EU’s ten-yard line, but Wes spins, hopping over the player who is diving for his legs before running it in.
Cheers erupt across the stadium, but I barely hear them. My focus is lasered in on my angel. She’s out of her seat, whooping and shouting, and I make a mental note to tell Wes. The dick needs some cheering up—we all do. But Wes is taking the brunt of it. He agreed to be the one who was cold while we got to act indifferent. And while we all will owe her recompense, Wes will have to prove none of what he’s said was true.
Ariah leans over, whispering something in one of the marked-for-death bodyguard’s ears. I think that’s Fernando or Nando, whatever the fuck he’s called. He nods and follows her out of their box.
Peering over to the cheer squad, I notice Samantha’s eyes glued on Wes’s ass. She’s practically foaming at the mouth. My guess is she’s picturing the “sex” they had at the party. I’m almost giddy, picturing the horror that will mar her face when she discovers the truth. Her shock might even elicit an actual reaction from her usually frozen features. I use her distraction to sneak out of the stadium.
I’m halfway up the third flight of stairs when Thomas comes into view. “What are you doing up here?” he asks, arching a jet-black brow in my direction. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the field?”
“Still on the injury list,” I reply.
His chin dips in understanding. “So, you’re not playing. That doesn’t explain why you’re on this floor.”
