Page 26 of One Spicy Summer

“For you, I will.”

But tonight, nothing. No kiss. No words. No charm. Just silence and this gnawing hole in my chest.

Coach wasn’t happy with my decision, but it’s something he just had to deal with.

I find myself pacing the sidelines, biting my nails, something I’ve never done in my life. It’s disgusting. But it’s like my nerves are clawing their way out of me.

Then, the air shifts around me.

My head snaps up.

“She’s here,” I whisper to myself, eyes scanning the crowd.

There she is.

Presley and her gang, laughing like they don’t have a care in the world. Ethan wasn’t wrong. She looks good enough to fucking eat, plaid mini skirt, white knee-high socks, black shoes. Suddenly I forget how to stand.

Her hair’s in pigtails with white bows. Fucking bows. And that face, bare, beautiful, and all hers. She doesn’t need makeup. Never has.

“Whoa, Presley and the crew showed out tonight,” Ethan calls from the bench. “Wiley, looks like you and your girl made up!” Ethan calls Wiley’s name, causing me to follow his voice.

I look at Wiley, wearing the same goofy-ass grin I wear when I think about Presley, and that’s when I see it.

She’s wearing his jersey.

Wiley’s. Not mine.

I see red.

“Yo, Ry, where are you going? Second half’s about to start!” Rafe calls out behind me, but I don’t answer.

I’m already climbing the railing, rage in every step as I storm through the bleachers, not caring who I shove aside.

Presley sees me. Her smile falters.

Good.

She should be scared.

I stop right in front of her, chest heaving. She smiles up at me, sweet, soft. But I don’t smile back.

“Care to explain what the fuck you have on, Presley?”

Her eyes scan my face like she’s trying to read the storm behind it. “Ry, what do you mean?”

I step closer, voice dropping. “Wiley’s jersey. Presley. Why the fuck do you have it on?”

Her bottom lip trembles, classic Presley. Trying to guilt me out of being mad.

“Nice try, Prez. That won’t work this time.” I grab her arm and pull her away from the crowd, away from her brother, from everyone.

“Rygaard, let me go!” she squeals, but I can hear the giggle in her voice.

She thinks this is funny?

“Is something about this amusing to you?” I snap. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? Do you get off on pushing my buttons? On seeing how far you can go before I snap? Because guess what, baby, you woke the wolf. Is that what you want? You like it when I get like this?”

I push her gently in front of me as we reach the locker room door.

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