Page 15 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Cillian

W hen my phone chimes for what feels like the hundredth time, I groggily lift my head from the pillow, peering around the darkened room.

Shit, what time is it?

I feel around the mattress for my phone, finding it underneath my pillow. I crack one eye open and swipe across the screen. I groan when I see the time.

It’s barely six a.m. and I’ve already got four text messages.

Seeing as how the only person I ever talk to is Aisling and now… Rory , I know it’s her before I even open them.

Rory: Okay so, I have an idea and I know you’re probably going to hate it but… Oh well.

Rory: No you’re definitely going to hate it but you asked for my help. Remember that.

Rory:

Cillian: It’s bloody 6 am, St. James. On Sunday. I was out with you half the night.

Rory: Yes, I know that but my brilliant idea came to me in the middle of the night and I couldn’t sleep after.

Rory: I’m working on a plan.

Cillian: Enlighten me so I can go back to sleep.

Rory: I’m planning a small get together at my apartment tonight. With you, and some guys from the team, but I may or may not be telling them that you’re… attending.

Cillian: That’s your plan?

Rory: Yep. It’s going to be like ripping a bandaid off. Anyway, be at the place for 6 and don’t be late.

Rory: Cillian?

Rory: I know you did not just leave me on read!?!

The brilliant plan Rory woke me up at six a.m. for is not going to be at all what she’s hoping for, but I show up anyway because I know that she’s just trying to uphold her end of our arrangement.

And even though I’d rather run until I puke than spend the evening with Thorne and the rest of them, I know I have no choice.

It’s either I play nice or I’m off the team. And that’s not something I’m even entertaining.

When I knock on the door, I can hear low, jumbled voices on the other side, and a moment later it opens. Rory peers at me through a small crack and nods, rolling her lips together. “Hi. Okay, you ready for this? No fighting. And no leaving . Okay? We have to do this.”

I nod, and she opens the door wider, allowing me to step inside. I do my best to brace for the absolute shit show that’s about to ensue, willing myself to keep my temper under control and remember that this is the only option, and my spot on the team depends on it.

My promise to Aisling depends on it. My future depends on it.

A mantra that I keep repeating as Rory leads me through her entryway into her apartment.

It’s spacious, clean, and minimally decorated, which I think somehow fits her exactly. She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who makes a fuss over much, especially when it comes to things like decorations.

But then again, I barely know her.

Last night at the bar took me by surprise in more ways than one.

First is the fact that she’s actually as bad at flirting as she says she is, and now I know why she’s asking for me to teach her.

Even though I think the minute she gets out of her head, it’ll work out, I’m going to do what I promised and help however I can.

But second, if I’m honest, I could’ve spent my Saturday night in worse ways. She’s actually quite funny, and chill when she’s not stressing out about what she should say or do. She’s every bit the spitfire that I thought her to be, but it’s kind of fucking hot. She’s hot.

Not that I’m going to tell her that I didn’t hate spending time with her. She’ll think it makes us friends or something, and that’s not happening. This is purely a mutually beneficial arrangement, and when I’m done satisfying my end of it, I’m out.

Period.

I follow behind her farther into her apartment until she suddenly comes to an abrupt stop, causing me to run into the back of her.

I collide with soft, warm curves, and I grunt. “Bloody hell, St. James.”

She whips to face me, still plastered to my front, and places a finger over my lips, silencing me.

Her voice lowers to a barely audible whisper.

“Shh. Okay, listen. You and I both know that this is going to be a total… shit show . But I need you to promise me that you’re not going to let them goad you.

And promise me that you’re not going to, I don’t know, fly off the handle. That’s exactly what they want.”

It’s not that I’m worried about right now.

It’s the fact that she’s pressed against my front, one hand resting on my stomach and the other still on my lips, that has my brain doing something stupid.

Liking it.

Christ.

My pulse thunders and I swallow, nodding against the pad of her finger.

What the hell is going on with me lately?

Her deep, dark eyes resemble chocolate as she peers up at me, slowly dropping her finger from my lips. “You want me to help you get in with the guys, I need you to trust me. It’s the only way we’re going to pull this off.”

If only she had any idea how hard that is for me.

I’m giving everything I have, and trust isn’t one of those things.

Our eyes stay locked, her body so close that I can feel the heat radiating off her, and for the first time I find myself wanting to touch her. To see how soft she feels beneath my hands.

“Rory, where’d you go?” a voice calls from the other room, and her breath hitches as she stills. “Roooooory.”

“I promise to be a good boy , all right? On my best behavior,” I murmur, taking a slight step back and creating distance between us before I do something even more dumb than liking the feel of her body pressed against mine.

I’m not really sure what I’m promising, but I’m here and I’m not going to leave.

With one last lingering look up at me, she nods. “Okay, let’s go.”

She leads me into her living room, and I see the guys spread out on various pieces of furniture, watching TV, eating crisps, and sipping beers. They look comfortable in Rory’s space, and for some reason it makes me feel out of place.

Envious even. That they have this familiarity and friendship with her, and I’m destined to always be the outsider.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” My gaze flits to Thorne, who’s in a plush, cream-colored armchair with a bowl of fruit in his lap that nearly falls to the ground when he sits up abruptly, his face turning a bright shade of scarlet.

There’s an echo of murmurs around the room and I scan their faces, finding a similar expression on all of them.

They don’t want me here.

But that’s nothing I wasn’t prepared for.

Ezra Keller looks at me with narrowed eyes as he shakes his head, a menacing smirk curling his upper lip into a sneer. “Seems like someone brought the trash in.”

Bloody arseholes.

“Shut up, Ezra,” Rory says sharply, her lips tightened into a scowl. She places her hands on her hips and looks around the room at each of the guys before focusing her attention back on Ezra. “You’re in my apartment and you’re going to respect anyone who’s in my home.”

Ezra’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, suddenly looking slightly nervous, and I bite back a laugh.

“Fuck this, I’m out of here,” Brooks says, rising from the armchair and thrusting the half-empty bowl of fruit into Wren’s arms. The stacked prop just blinks, holding on to the bowl with both arms as he looks back and forth between Brooks, Rory, Ezra, and me.

Rory stomps over to Brooks and pokes his chest, pushing him back down into the chair. He flops onto the cushion with an oof .

“No, you’re going to sit down and shut up, Brooks Thorne,” she says.

“Listen up and listen good because I’m only going to say this once.

Enough is enough . I get it, you guys are all pissed off that Cillian’s on the team.

Your routines are interrupted, and the chemistry with the team is out of sync.

I get it, and I understand. We all do. But this whole…

icing him out and being an asshole thing has to stop.

This isn’t just about Cillian, it’s about you.

It’s about the team, and what you’re doing right now is hurting the entire team. ”

Ezra opens his mouth to interrupt her, but when Rory shoots him a look, holding up her hand, he promptly shuts his mouth and sits back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant toddler who’s just been scolded by his mum.

Make no mistake, that’s exactly what this is.

She walks to stand in front of the TV, facing all the guys.

“It ends here. Tonight. Because after this, you’re not just going to have a problem with Cillian, you’re going to have a problem with me.

No one is walking out that door. We’re going to continue our game night as planned, and nobody is going to be an asshole.

Nobody is going to say one word. Or…” She trails off, as if she’s contemplating something.

“Or I’m going to tell my dad about the time that you all snuck out last year before regionals and got drunk when you were on a strict curfew. ”

Gasps ring out in the room along with a few groans, and Rory lifts a brow, an evil little grin flitting to her pink lips.

“Holy shit!” Liam squeaks, his voice a whisper as he stares at Rory with fear in his eyes. He’s just a little pup, a rookie sophomore on the team, and of everyone in the room, he looks the most terrified.

Wren reaches his massive hand into the bowl that he’s still holding and pops some strawberries into his mouth. When he chuckles, the sticky red fruit is stuck to his teeth, showing off his signature toothless grin. “Rory, girl, that is cold as fuck.”

“Yeah, well, desperate times, desperate measures. And you know what? Not only will I be ratting you dickheads out, I will never ever ever make another batch of snickerdoodle cookies ever again.”

“That’s it.” Fitz jumps up from the couch in an outrage. “That is crazy talk, Rory. Come on. Not the snickerdoodle cookies. You know how much those mean to us! What the hell.”

“Yeah, what he said! You wouldn’t do that to us,” Wren adds around a mouthful of strawberries.