It was all over the school paper: Nicolas Reyes, player number 11, injured. I remember almost leaping from my seat as Asher slammed into Nico, causing his leg to bend at an unnatural angle.
The field broke into a fight for the first time in history; the Titans and the Sirens were not just rivals but enemies.
He chuckles low and throaty. “It’s funny how we both just keep showing up.”
This time, I don’t respond; I just grab the wet sponge and place it on the side harder than I need to. My hand grazes him, but he doesn’t even flinch. He remains so still— as if he moves or breathes, he might disappear.
How odd?
It isn’t until I step to the side that he finally releases his breath and continues to work in silence, surprisingly well. So much so that when our sculpture begins to shape, it surprises us both, and for a second, we smile and our eyes clash.
For just a second, the walls collapse, and I can see the pain—the anger before he quickly replaces it with his best poker face. “We don’t have to pretend to be friends for this. We work well. We can do that quietly.” He says as he stands right on time as the bell rings.
That asshole leavesthe classroom before I can say a word. Silencing me once again.
I should hate him. And I do. But that doesn’t mean I've forgotten.
Buzz…
I look down at my phone buzzing loudly, my brows pull together as I read the social media post. What the fuck?
The Pulse?
The Pulse Blog
What is this?
And what secrets are they referring to? My stomach sinks, and a cold chill runs up myspine.
Could it?
No.
It couldn’t.
There was no one besides us that night. Could someone else know what Nico and I have buried? What we swore to forget the second it happened?
No.
Whoever is behind this tacky blog is just fishing for something or stirring the pot. I hope so. Because this is bad. Really. Really bad.
Still… I can’t shake the feeling that this year, something big will happen. And when it does, I hope that I’m ready to face the truth. But first, I need to find out who’s behind this fucking page and shut it down.
Chapter Six
Nico
“Look how beautiful she is,” he coos in my ear. “Just focus on her while I take what’s mine.” That word.
Mine.
I’ve heard it so many times I’ve become a believer. What’s worse is the reaction looking into her eyes evokes from me. My dick painfully presses against the glass. “Shh.. It’s okay, there’s no judgment in a place like this.” He groans as warmth fills me—
I shake away the thought. Taking in fresh, deep, full breaths of air as I step out of class.
I couldn’t take it. Sitting in front of her.
My lungs felt like they were drying from the inside out — trying to draw in a breath but filling with her instead. It’s always too much to be around her; this is why I avoid Shiloh Johnson. She sets me off in more than one way. My fingers stick together from the clay. I should have washed my hands, but I didn’t bother, not when the flowery scent of perfume clings to my lungs like a second skin. Her voice replays in my head – so full of fire, scraping against the cage I’ve built inside my skull.