Page 64 of Redeeming the Villain

“Hi, Asher.” I smile at him and Dean.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as they approach me.

“Umm … I’m waiting for someone.”

Why on earth did I not even run the possibility through my mind that I would run into other players, like these two, who would certainly ask me questions?

He taps his chin like a cartoon character. “I wonder who that could be. Griffin?Nope. Elias?Nope. Finn? No, it wouldn’t be him. Right, Dean?” he teases.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes.

The door swings open again, and Malik walks out, his aura immediately drawing my attention like a magnet. I’m frozen as he spots me, his searing stare keeping me in place.

No one should look that good after practice. He showered, and his hair is all wet and messy, falling over his forehead. He’s too hot for his own good. I can still hate him and acknowledge that.

He slowly walks down the hallway toward us, his stare never wavering from mine. I’m not even sure he’s blinked.

Asher lightly pats my shoulder. “Later, Alora. Bye, Malik.”

Malik stays quiet as the brothers walk past me and out of the doors to the parking lot.

His voice is even and calm, but firm. “What are you doing here?”

Swallowing my fear and hesitation, I stick out my hand. “I want a truce. An understanding between us.”

He studies me, his eyes scanning my face, as if I’m going to suddenly burst out laughing. Staying quiet, he looks at my hand and then back up.

Hearing laughter and chatter, he grabs my hand and pulls me behind him as he walks down the hallway to my right.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere private,” he bites out.

If this is an olive branch, I’ll cooperate. If this is some sort of game, I’m going to kill him.

He twists the knob on a random door, and it opens.

He pulls me inside, and it swings shut behind us, sealing us in darkness.

He flips the switch, and light floods the room, which I can now tell is some sort of equipment room. Hockey sticks, gloves, skates, blades, tech I do not understand, and equipment I don’t know decorate the room with a desk in the center, the only things on it being a couple of binders.

Keeping his distance from me, he leans against the door, and I take up a nice seat on the desk. Resting my butt against it, I ease myself up and over it, letting my legs dangle over the front of it.

Reaching over, he locks the door so we’re not interrupted. Either that or he’s about to murder me. Honestly, it could go either way.

“As you were saying …” He trails off, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sitting up tall, I clear my throat. “I want a truce between us.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“Two options. You and I call whatever this is quits—the banter and the fighting—and we become friends.”

He pushes off of the door and takes a step toward me. “And the second option?”

Nervously swallowing, I wring my hands on the edge of the desk. He takes another step toward me.

“We forget about each other, and we stick to our sides of the world. We don’t talk. We don’t exist to one another.”

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