Page 3 of Play Dirty (Villalargos University #1)

Chapter Two

Nico

F reshman

Age Nineteen

Who would have ever thought that I would be going to Villalargos? Me, Nicolas Reyes, son of Milagros Reyes. A nobody—who would not only be going to one of the top universities in the area, but also playing for the Sirens.

I guess bumping into blue eyes was truly a good omen. A good luck charm. So why does it all feel so heavy?

“Not everything that shines is gold.” My grandma would always say, but as I stare at the white envelope, it feels more like I’m holding a gold brick or maybe a fucking bomb waiting to detonate.

Blood rushes to my ears, and my hands shake as I look at the gold seal keeping it closed.

Kids like me didn’t make it out of the barrio unless you were educated — or dead in a body bag.

Yet, this letter means I made it. My eyes water.

I use my forearm and wipe the unshed tears threatening to spill.

I still can't believe it. I’m in. I made the cut. Someone needs to pinch me because I’m sure I’m dreaming. I let out a nervous chuckle.

The feeling is overwhelming. It’s like gratitude and rage tangled in a white envelope. For years, I practiced and honed my skills. I passed up partying, drugs, and women, all in the pursuit of greatness. Until the night that changed everything...

All it took was losing her …

To shift my perspective… my goal.

“Open it, bighead.” My little brother drawls, sticking a pinky finger into his ear.

“ Ya, dejalo. Leave him.” Grandma says, smacking the back of his head, causing him to wince. My heart continues to slam into my ribs, my lungs constricting as my hands aggressively work to open the letter.

Who would have thought a piece of paper could hold such value? But for a kid raised in the hood of this small coastal town, it means everything.

It means all the pain, the times I had to eat bread just to stop my stomach from growling.

The small baggies of weed I passed along to the preppy boys I played soccer with meant something.

Because my future is brighter, my family's future is brighter as long as I succeed.

Tears well up in my eyes, small wet dots staining the paper in my hands as my grandma prays and Erikson laughs.

“A fucking Reyes, going to the big league.” He cheers, jumping up and down.

“Language?” I manage to choke out, placing my hand over my little brother's head—tussling his dark curls. It’s just us three now.

It’s ironic how life has a funny way of unfolding—I just wish mine didn’t come with a double-edged sword.

The win feels bitter in my throat, but like the saying goes, success isn’t always sweet.

It’s sour with a smidge of sweetness, enough to deceive you into thinking you want it.

You crave it.

I look up at the picture and remember my promise.

The reason I worked so hard.

For revenge. For the truth. For us.

There’s no hunger like that of someone who has never had anything but everything to lose. My grandma pulls me into a tight embrace, tears wetting my neck and shirt .

“ Qué bendición. What a blessing.” She whispers, but why does it feel like a curse? Like a false promise of safety. Maybe it’s due to the bitterness that has taken place in my heart.

Once again, I find myself looking down at the letter, my name written in cursive like a brand. A smile quirks on my lips as I push down the doubt and all the pesky emotions that resurface. Focusing on the truth of my motivation…

And hoping that I’m lucky enough to cross paths with the pretty girl with the icy blue eyes.

A week later…

I step out of the blacked-out limo sent to pick up the players for tonight's celebration. My nerves buzz inside me, my body restless as I take in the view. My gaze moves past the Victorian building looming ahead—to my friend. It wasn’t only me who made the cut, but also my best friend Zayden.

He looks way out of his element, his features flicking from disgust to curiosity in the blink of an eye.

It's a lot for a kid who grew up with nothing.

I watch as his brows pull together, his thumb pressed up against his pierced lip as he bites the corner of his nail.

Lights from behind illuminate the large Victorian structure.

Broad marble steps lead the way to the entrance, white lilies and roses draped across them, and right in the middle is the school logo.

A large trident, beneath it, two joining branches.

“Tonight is a celebration, boys, an honor to be amongst the donors and sponsors who keep Villalargos University what it is today. Elite and one of the best. Welcome officially to the Sirens. Once inside, feel free to mingle, and in an hour, the ceremony will begin.” The coach says as he spreads his arms.

“Ceremony?” Zayden asks as he tussles the top of a curly faux hawk. The coach nods with a smile. “Indeed. Tonight you get to meet your sponsors, thank them, and form a connection.” The coach claps Zayden's shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “Relax, boy, and just enjoy the privilege tonight.”

Ezra— the one who looks like a model, tall and lean with short-cropped, perfectly slicked-back black hair- walks towards the stairs first. Following him is Brad, your average Ken lookalike with blonde hair and blue eyes—who I quickly learn talks too much and is someone I don't like.

I stay rooted in place, my hands shoved in my pockets, taking it all in my mouth, almost gaping from the extravagance that pours out from every corner.

A loud reminder that I don’t belong. This isn’t my life.

“Yo,” Zayden calls out, seeing the hesitation on my face, I suppose.

My answer comes in a slight nod to the left, letting him know that I need some space.

He dips his chin slowly just as I catch one of the guys looking at him from a distance.

“Yo Orozco, here.” The one called Wyatt calls for him; he’s tall and lean with onyx curls framing his face.

I watch my friend hesitate for a moment, just as Wyatt swings his arm around his shoulder.

Zayden shoots me one look over his shoulder before disappearing inside .

Instead, I opt to walk around the gardens, needing a place to hide and hit my weed pen.

Something to take the edge off all the emotions stirring inside me.

My nerves are screaming, causing my body to fidget and my mind to spiral.

I move through the maze of red flowers and green walls, and my hands run through the prickly leaves.

For a second, my thoughts wander as I relish the soft sting on my skin.

Then, suddenly, she appears— the same girl who has haunted my dreams since we crossed paths at Villalargos.

She slowly circles the water fountain, watching the water.

The moon casts a blue light upon her, making her look ethereal.

An angel sent from heaven. Or maybe a devil meant to distract me.

While she has haunted my mind, I doubt she would remember someone that’s beneath her. Someone like me. Wearing no name brand or a fancy last name to match. I wish I could say the same, yet I can’t.

I noticed her the moment I stepped onto the field.

Blue eyes full of tears as she wiped them away and held up her chin.

She looked ethereal and yet broken. My body instinctively moves closer; the need to clean her tears has me moving before I can stop myself. Shame burns through me, knowing she’s the only thing I see every time I fuck my hand in the shower.

And there she is.

Strolling around the fountain, fingers tracing the edge of it.

Her pale blue dress hugs her delicate curves, complementing her skin, perfectly matching the shade of her eyes.

Her blonde hair is pinned up in an updo.

Small clusters of diamonds hold the waves together, only allowing a couple of curls loose in the front and back.

She looks like the princess she was raised to be, and it makes me shudder at the sight of her.

I look down at myself and hide against the prickly rose beds, before taking out my weed pen and taking a deep pull for courage.

Talking to women has never been a challenge; I’m attractive, that much I’m sure of.

But being around her, I feel like a fly on the wall.

So small. Nothing compared to everything.

That day back at the campus took everything from me to keep myself composed and stop from touching her.

Ask her if she was free that day. But insecurities can affect anyone — including me.

It didn’t matter that her eyes hungrily scanned over me that day as if she was thirsty and I was the only way to quench it.

That her breathing picked up just a bit as I leaned in. Blondie wanted me… and she’s just what the doctor prescribed for me. Still, I didn’t act. Fuck I still can’t. I know relationships are the last thing I should be considering. I have a plan— a mission.

But where’s the harm in a little fun?

Just when I push away and decide to walk towards her, some asshole with long brown hair, tall and athletic, walks up. Towering over her as he bends over and places a kiss on her lips, he grabs her chin. He tilts her head upwards to meet his gaze, and I catch the tear that slips down her face.

Of course, someone as beautiful as her would be claimed by someone else.

My heart tightens in my chest, and the desire to make her smile overwhelms me. My fists clench at my sides, jealousy forms an ugly cloud over me, and I’ve never wanted to beat a man for simply existing— not until tonight.

Not until this very moment.

I watch longer than I should as he gropes her; their kisses become hungrier, my cock twitching in my pants from the sight. Not because of him, but because of her. I should be making her feel good, but instead it’s him. Can’t he tell that those sounds coming from her are rehearsed?

Too high-pitched and hollow .

Bitterness floods my heart as the moans grow louder.

Despite it all, my cock swells. With a deep growl in my chest, I force myself to turn to leave and not continue to intrude on their obviously private moment.

Just as I take the first step, I hear her tell him to leave her alone, so I stop, waiting to see if she’ll need help.

Begging whatever god to let this be my night. Miracles happen every day…

Nothing happens… her small moment of hesitation turns back into passion. I guess tonight I won’t be getting a miracle — not this time.

A soft moan slips past her lips as I head back inside, making my stomach turn and my blood run cold. I remind myself that I’m not here to find love… but to play and find the truth.