NINETEEN

AUGUSTE

I’m still standing here. Frozen. Staring down the hallway Courtney disappeared through. She fucking waltzed past me like I’m the invisible man.

The hallway is empty now, the music thumping through the walls, filling the space around me. The faint scent of her perfume clings to the air like smoke. The kind of lingering scent that stays in your lungs and won’t let go.

The same way I can’t let go. Even though I don’t know what else to do to convince her to give me a shot. To let me in.

I don’t know what the fuck happened to her. Who the hell has made her build these impenetrable walls around her. But I do know that if she just gave me a chance, I could fix all the shit that’s happened. I can make it better. I proved that to her last night.

Didn’t I?

Sucking in a breath, I steady myself so I can go back to the table, grab my shit and leave.

Because if another asshole goes near her… I will lose my shit again.

Fuck, I’m still vibrating with the intensity of what just happened. What karaoke cunt-face did. The way he touched her. The way she looked at him—intimidated.

No one fucking intimidates my girl.

Not on my fucking watch.

Ever.

After all that, I’m the bad guy. Courtney looked at me like I was something she didn’t recognize. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted .

Maybe I am.

Maybe she’s right to push me away because she’s turning me into something—someone I don’t recognize.

And I like it.

It’s so goddamn thrilling to want to fight for something besides a scoresheet. To fucking need something more than may next win.

At the same damn time… it is terrifying—the things I will do for her. The lengths I will go to for Courtney. Infinite.

This girl lights me up like nothing before her. The sound of her voice shaking? The fire in her eyes when she told me off? That flash of fury, of defiance?

It. Lit. Me. Up.

The whole time she was talking, I couldn’t stop thinking about how good her mouth would feel crushed under mine. How she’d fight me. How she’d give in.

I don’t regret what I said to that guy. Don’t regret the threat. If anything, I wish I’d hit him. His blood belongs on my hands.

For her.

That’s the part that scares me in ways even physical pain can’t reach.

Because I’ve had flings. I’ve had girls. But nothing and no one like Court.

Nothing that coils like this.

Nobody that has tied me in all these fucking knots.

Nothing that makes me want to ruin anyone who gets too close. That dares to breathe her air. To exist in her orbit.

“Fuck,” I growl at myself, incapable of talking myself down from the fucking ledge I’m looking over.

I slam the heel of my hand against the wall, trying to shake off the frustration, the need.

A pulse of pain flares up my arm—not enough, but it helps.

“Hey, man—” I freeze at Jayden’s cautious voice. “—you good?”

Really? What kind of stupid fucking question is that?

My glare turns on him, frayed around the edges with a constant red throb. Meanwhile, he just leans against the wall, silent as he spins his keys around his finger.

Fuck me.

“Gotta be honest, I did not see you falling for Coach Nilsson’s kid.” He chuckles. “Matheo is totally stupid enough to do that… but you? I did not predict that.”

“Now is really not a good time for?— ”

“I get it, she’s pretty. I even get that maybe you feel shitty for what happened on day one. But Coach is going to castrate you in front of the whole team.”

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

“Is she worth it? That’s the only question you should be asking yourself.”

“Yes.” The reply leaves my mouth without thought or warning. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“It is my business when your actions have consequences for the whole team. We’re all working our asses off to make this fucking season count after we fucking choked during the Play Offs.

” Twisting onto his side, he blows out a long breath.

“If you’re into Courtney and she’s into you, that’s cool, just…

like… I know you’re a good guy, but make sure your intentions are legit cause, if that was my sister, you’d be fucking dead by now. ”

Morrow’s sister loves me. Kailey would wear my jersey over his any time.

“For what it’s worth, it’s obvious that she’s into you. Soooo… maybe take it easy on the wall, take a few breaths and go back to the table. Just be less, you know—” He makes a hissing sound with claws. “—grrr. Chill.”

With that he makes for the back exit, where he parked earlier.

“You leaving?”

“Yep,” Jayden replies with a shrug. “Going to check on Eli and call it a night.”

He disappears with a wave, still spinning his fucking keys as he calls, “Try not to murder anyone tonight.”

Shaking myself off, I ignore the fact that my hand is still throbbing from my attack on the concrete wall, and walk back to the table.

The lights feel too bright, the music loud, and the keening shrieks of the group murdering an ABBA song on the stage annoying as nails on a chalkboard.

Courtney and Cecelia are finishing a shot of cachaca from the middle of the table. She looks green when she puts the glass down to a lecture from Matheo.

“You’re not meant to shoot it. Cachaca is meant to be savored. Like sip it and let the heat and the flavor amalgamate in your mouth.”

Amalgamate? Where the fuck did the asshole learn that word? His vocabulary is not that sophisticated. Who the fuck is he trying to impress ?

My stare narrows on Matheo. Watching him intently as he leans over, across Courtney to show her and Cecelia how to drink a damn shot. His arm brushes her shoulder…

Motherfucker.

Every cell in my body bunches up. I want to drag her out of here. To throw her over my shoulder and walk straight into the night, not let go until she admits she wants me—wants us too.

Instead, I move around the booth, dropping into the seat across from her.

I say nothing. Just watch her whole demeanor change.

Slender shoulders pull back with the toss of her hair over her shoulder. It’s longer and so fucking silky when it’s straight. But I miss her curls. Wild and knotty. Miss the way they felt when I combed my fingers through them last night. Coarse and strong.

Courtney doesn’t look at me. Not even when she tips her nose up and finishes her glass of pink champagne and allows Erik to top it up again.

She’s blatantly ignoring me, and that’s okay.

Is it pissing me off? Yes.

Is it turning me the fuck on ? Also, yes.

Knowing that her panties from last night are in my drawer, still smelling of how fucking good she came for me is my current happy place. It’s what’s stopping me from losing it on Erik and Matheo right now.

Pulling my keys from my pocket, I thread them through my finger, so that the tag she gave me glints in the blue and red light.

Oh . That catches her eyes. Those pretty fucking eyes that are desperately trying to hide her emotions… her want… all that delicious lust she soaked me with yesterday.

I can feel it roll off her milky skin. Like a secret scent that she exudes only for me. Filled with heat and tension. Promising that storm still buzzing beneath her skin.

Courtney shakes her head, focusing back on Matheo’s cachaca for connoisseurs lecture.

But her smile is too bright. Too practiced to pass off her feigned indifference.

Hmmm… my girl likes the chase. To be chased.

I’m here for it. Here for the tremble of her hand when she lifts her glass. For the pronounced rise and fall of her chest that pushes her plump tits past the heart-shaped neckline of her dress.

I see the effect I have on her. And she knows it .

When her gaze finally flicks to mine, it’s a spark to dry kindling. Her blue eyes flash hot—her composure threading.

“All right, I’m going to call it a night,” Courtney announces, standing up, brushing off her skirt like she’s trying to shake off the tension between us.

“No,” Cecelia whines, tugging her back down onto the seat. “You’re like the only female here. Don’t leave me.”

“We have work tomorrow.”

“One more drink…? For the road?”

“Fine, one more. But not that stuff.” Court points to the shots. “Sorry, Matheo, but sipping isn’t going to make it taste better.”

“One can only take a horse to water,” he retorts with a tsk.

“If the alcohol is nice you can make it drink too,” Courtney counters, taking an exaggerated sip of the champagne Cecelia poured.

A knot tightens in my chest when she drinks a third of it in one gulp. Courtney’s not inebriated, but I don’t want her out there alone. The thought makes my stomach lurch.

Fuck it. Court will hate me for this, but all that matters is her safety. That I can see her to her door and know that she made it home okay. Pulling up the Uber app on my phone, I book a ride and gather my shit.

“Laters,” I say to the group, putting my jacket on and heading out.

“Laters, bro,” Erik calls over Ansel’s boos.

The entire path to the exit, I feel Court’s eyes on me. When I push through the tall blacked out glass doors, I’m tempted to look back. I don’t.

Instead, I head to the curb and look out for the Uber. When it arrives, I bribe the driver with a generous tip in cash so he waits.

Courtney steps out of the bar a few minutes later, her face scrunched up, but the moment she sees me standing there, waiting for her, her shoulders go stiff. Her eyes narrow to volcanic slits.

“Weren’t you leaving thirty minutes ago?” Her tone is sharp.

I just shrug, my gaze never leaving her. “I’m waiting for you.”

Shit, her jaw clenches. She’s about to argue, I can see it in the way she shifts her weight, teeth sinking into her lip.

“Thank you, but I’m capable of getting myself home,” she retorts, looking around.

The night temperature has dipped and along with the tremor in her voice, she’s shivering. The thin fabric of her dress does nothing against the cool night air, and I’m not going to stand by while she freezes to death .