Page 103

Story: Pucking His Enemy

“I warned you about him. You think he gives a shit about you? You think this ends with anything but disaster?”

My throat tightens. “He left.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Good.”

That one word punches harder than all the rest.

“I swear to God, Kat. You don’t even know him. You think because he made you feel something for five minutes, he’s yours?”

I hang up.

Not because I’m done—but because I can’t breathe.

My fingers tremble as I set the phone down. I stare at the spot on the bed where Liam should be, and I feel it hit me.

Not just the weight of Griffin’s words.

But the weight of everything I let myself feel last night.

I stumble to the bathroom on autopilot. Drop to my knees.

And vomit.

All of it—grief, guilt, whiskey, and shame.

My body folds in on itself, shaking, sweat cold on my back. When it’s over, I rinse my mouth and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Smudged makeup. Swollen lips. Bite marks. Love bruises.

A woman who let a man in, just long enough for him to walk out.

I drag myself back to the bed, limbs heavy, the ache between my thighs feeling more like betrayal than pleasure.

I sit. Stare at the phone. The feed. The headlines. The fantasy I let myself believe.

Last night, claimed me like he meant it.

This morning, he vanished like it never happened.

And now the world knows. Griffin knows. Not just from some gossip post—he saw it. The headline. The photos. Liams arm wrapped around my waist. The way he looked at me like he wanted to ruin me in front of everyone.

And me...

I feel like I’ve been split wide open—cut with a blade I handed him myself. Every pulse between my thighs a reminder. Every beat of my heart one breath closer to a scream.Because whatever this was—whatever game we told ourselves we were playing—it stopped being pretend the second his mouth was on mine and I let myself believe.

Believe in the way he touched me like I was the only thing worth holding.Believe in the way he looked at me like I wasn’t just Griffin’s little sister.Believe that maybe—for once—I wasn’t a mistake waiting to happen.

And now?

Now I get to sit in the wreckage. Sore. Shaking. Stripped bare.Every part of me still humming with the echo of his name…And no one here to say it.

Not even him.

The texts keep coming.

From Aurora. From my mom. Even from one of the interns from the arena who’s not so subtly asking if it’s true I slept with our newest player.

Girl, i’ll Txt u back when I get my shit together.