Page 58 of Freckles

Better to act now and put an end to their friendship before that can happen.

After school, I approach him in the gym. We don’t officially have practice today, but he spends all his free time running solo drills and doing strength training.

“Could I talk to you for a moment?” I ask him, then my eyes fix on my cousin, who’s doing pull ups on the other side of the hall. “Somewhere more private.”

“Yeah, man. Sure.”

He follows me into the changing room, waiting while I check there’s no one lurking in the showers.

“Is there a problem?” His voice sharpens. “Is there something happening with Chess?”

“You spend a lot of time with Francesca.”

He shrugs, face creasing into a frown. “Yeah, we’re friends. Why?”

“Friends, huh? I might’ve called it something different.”

Aidan gives an exasperated sigh. “Do you have a point coming soon, King?”

“I don’t want you hanging around with her any longer.”

“Good to know.” His eyes open wider before he snorts. “I’m not going to stop hanging with her on your say-so.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider.” I flex my shoulders to take up more space, standing tall. “It’s hard to impress a selector when you’re booted off the team.”

“There are other teams.” Aidan mimics my body language, looking pissed. “Being passed over this year means my skills will be twelve months further advanced the next time they look.”

His confidence is off-putting. Even among the men in my uncle’s organisation, the assurance of knowing exactly who you are and what you can do is rare. But I can respect a man and still push him to do what I need.

And he’s here, training.

Despite the bravado, it’s obvious rugby means a great deal to him.

“Stay away from her.”

“Or what?” His chest puffs out, feet wide apart for stability. Hands loose but ready to swing. “You don’t scare me, King.”

“I should.”

The quiet reply throws him for a second, then he shakes his head. “I’ve had worse than you come at me and survived.”

Physically, we’re evenly matched. I have an inch on him in height; he has a longer reach.

“Don’t worry, I’m not threatening a fight. But if you come near Francesca again…”

He angles his head, lip curling. “Yes?”

“I’ll cut her.” At his wince, I lean my weight forward, onto my toes. “Deep enough to scar.” His jaw locks, nostrils flaring, and I tap his cheek. “Here maybe.” I push at his chest. “Or here.” I poke his hip. “Or here.”

He slaps my hand away, and I let him, lowering my voice to whisper, “Break the rule twice and I’ll make you watch.”

“You’re fucking sick.” The words are expected… but there’s something false in his voice, in his entire reaction. Underneath the surface theatrics, he doesn’t seem to care. “If you even try to do that, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” This time, when I step into his personal space, he falls back. “You’re friends with Ezra, too, yeah?”

“I’m friends with a lot of people.”

“And Francesca confided in you when she decided to sell herself to the highest bidder?”

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