Page 10

CHAPTER 10

DYLAN

I ’m mid-conversation with one of my potential future teammates, laughing at a terrible joke about the assistant coach’s obsession with ice baths.

The night feels easy. Light. I shift slightly, just enough for my gaze to sweep across the club.

And that’s when it happens.

My eyes land on him .

The guy I vaguely noticed earlier. The one surrounded by women, effortlessly soaking up attention like he was born for it.

Up until this exact second, he was a non-factor in my night. Just another cocky athlete. Just another guy who clearly expects people to orbit him.

But now?

Now, he’s looking right back.

And everything changes.

The second our eyes meet, something in me tightens. Not just in the room—in me.

I tell myself it’s just a look. Just a glance across a crowded club. Just one second too long. But it doesn’t feel like just anything.

His expression is calm, unreadable. But his eyes? Laser-focused. Sharp. Knowing. Like he was waiting for me to notice him. Like he’s already decided something, and I’m just catching up.

I should break the stare. I should glance off, act like it means nothing. Like I’m still in control of my night.

Instead? I hold it. Longer than I mean to. Long enough for my stomach to do that annoying, traitorous flip thing.

My body shifts without permission. My fingers tighten around my drink.

What the hell?

I’m not the type to swoon over some overconfident guy in a club. I’ve been around athletes my whole life. But this guy?

He’s not just another athlete. There’s something self-assured about him. Something dangerous in the way he watches me.

Like he’s already got me figured out.

Across the room, his slow smirk deepens. Then—without hesitation—he stands. Not rushed. Not uncertain. Like it’s the most obvious decision he’s ever made.

And my stomach tightens.

The moment he moves, the air in the VIP section shifts. And the women surrounding him? They are not pleased.

First—the blonde currently whispering in his ear? She realizes he’s not listening anymore. She follows his gaze. Spots me. And immediately shoots daggers in my direction. Like I somehow violated an unspoken contract.

Next—the brunette in red? She physically tugs his arm, trying to reclaim his attention.

“Where are you going?” she whines loudly, pouting.

Without even looking at her, I see him reply over the music. “Away.”

Brunette is visibly offended.

Bodycon Dress Girl? She visibly scoffs, turning to her friend. “Are you serious? Did she put a spell on him?”

Her friend, equally scandalized, looks me up and down. “I don’t get it. What does she have that we don’t?”

Blonde #1 speaks up. “A death wish, apparently.”

Oh no, I’ve started something just by existing.

I don’t have to be psychic to feel the sudden hostility. The sharp whispers. The glances. The mildly scandalized outrage. The entire mood of the VIP section has changed—and somehow, I’m at the center of it. Did I just start some kind of war?

But then he moves. He steps away from the couches, leaving the mini-drama behind him.

Heading straight for me.

I swear I can feel my pulse in my throat. Not just from the weight of their collective scorn, but from the way he’s watching me now—like I’m the only thing in the room.

My brain says this is a bad idea. You said no impulsive decisions tonight.

But my body?

Oh, my body has already decided otherwise.

The eye contact is electric, making me immediately rethink my no distractions rule.

His exit from his mini harem is both funny and dramatic, with the women still fully scandalized. I should be annoyed. I should be indifferent.

Instead? I’m amused. And slightly panicked.

Because I already know— I’m in trouble.

And he knows it too.