Page 27 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Cillian

G o for it,” I retort roughly. My teeth are grinding together so hard I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t bloody pop. “Do your worst, St. James.”

She smirks sassily from across the table before sliding out of the booth and making her way over to a tall, meaty bloke who’s at the opposite side of the bar.

I watch her approach him, giving him a flirty smile that makes my fists clench and my gaze narrow into slits. When he leans in, whispering something near her ear, she tosses her head back and laughs, and a feeling much like jealousy pounds feverishly through my veins.

Fuck, I hate this shit. I hate that she’s laughing with another guy.

The entire goddamn point of lessons was to teach her. To get her ready for this.

Then you kissed the fuck out of her and found out how sweet she tastes , the voice in my head says, repeating what I was very much already bloody aware of.

What a fucking mess.

I spent the week avoiding her because I needed to work out the shit in my head, and finally I came to the realization that this isn’t happening. I’ll never be the kind of guy who deserves someone like Rory.

The good guy who doesn’t fuck up everything he touches.

She’s too sweet, too kind, too pure for a guy like me. Not to mention that she’s my coach’s daughter. She’s a complication I can’t afford.

Regardless of how badly I want her, and fuck, it’s so bloody bad.

My hands ache with how tightly my fists are clenched as I watch the arsehole place his hand along the small of Rory’s back and lean in close to say something in her ear once more. Then her eyes widen slightly, and she rakes her teeth over her lip, nodding to whatever he’s said.

It looks like they’re actually getting on, and I fucking hate it. I knew from the second she walked over to the hockey dude that she wasn’t interested, and my entire body sagged in relief.

But now… I realize she doesn’t look over at me once, and that only frustrates me more, knowing that she doesn’t need me. That she’s actually enjoying talking to this tosser.

Maybe it’s a bit fucked to think I actually don’t want her to succeed. Not at all. I want her to find an excuse for why she isn’t interested. But she’s using all the same things I fucking taught her. The eye contact, the laughing, the leaning in, the touching his arm.

And I hate every fucking second of it.

When he reaches for her hand and leads her to the dance floor, I’m sliding out of the booth before I can stop myself. Purely on instinct I make my way across the bar toward them. I don’t even think… I just act.

The dance floor is much more crowded than the bar portion, so I push through the crowd until I spot Rory and the dickhead. I walk up and tap him on the shoulder.

His head turns, and he looks confused as he says, “Yeah?”

“Time to go, mate.”

“What?” He laughs like I’ve just told a fucking joke as he looks at Rory and then back at me. “We’re dancing, mate , chill. Plenty of other people to dance with.”

His hand that’s curved around Rory’s waist tightens, pulling her closer, and it takes every ounce of self-control that I’ve been working on for the past year to keep from hitting him.

“Take your hands off of her.” My voice is deadly low. Venom dripping from every syllable.

Rory’s mouth falls open, that spot between her brows crinkling and it’s too goddamn cute for how I’m feeling right now. Her feet move backward, separating the two of them, and the bloke looks at us both before muttering something and leaving.

The second he’s out of view, she looks at me, her eyes flaring with anger. “Are you serious right now, Cillian?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I should’ve probably thought this shit through before I walked over here, but that’s the problem, I wasn’t thinking at all.

Not when I saw him touching her.

My shoulder lifts as I cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the fact that she looks bloody angry. “Let’s go.”

Without another glance, she spins on her heel toward the exit. I follow behind, trying to work out how I’m going to unfuck this.

“What the hell was that, Cillian!?” she cries the moment she bursts through the exit of the bar into the parking lot.

The heavy metal doors slam shut behind us, drowning out the sound of the upbeat music, leaving us alone in the frigid winter air.

She whips to face me, her bright eyes burning.

“Tell me what the hell just happened. What. Was. That?”

I clench my jaw as I tear my gaze away, leveling it on the rows of cars.

I don’t even know how to answer that question because I have no fucking clue what came over me. All I know is that I couldn’t stand to see him touch her. As if she were his to touch.

“No, you don’t get to ignore me and go back to your broody bullshit, Cillian Cairney. Hell no,” she seethes, stepping closer. Her chest heaves beneath her jacket, her fists balled at her sides. “You acted like a jealous prick back there.”

Not going to lie, seeing her be the sassy spitfire she was that first day I saw her on the pitch is so bloody hot, but I keep that to myself because she’s clearly pissed.

I don’t blame her, but also, fuck, she’s driving me crazy. I feel like I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.

How to stop this shit before we both end up doing something that we can’t come back from. Something that changes everything.

“I don’t know, Rory,” I finally mutter. I drag my fingers exasperatedly through my hair in frustration, tugging at the strands. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

She shakes her head, peering up at me, her eyes searching mine.

“The truth? That’s a good start. Tell me why you almost got into a freaking fight with that guy.

God, Cillian, you’re the one who told me to go talk to a guy.

Isn’t that what you brought me here tonight to do?

Isn’t that what you wanted? I do exactly as you said to do and here you are acti—”

“I couldn’t fucking stand him touching you, okay?” I cut her off, the admission rips out of me before I can stop it, my voice rising an octave and echoing around the empty parking lot. “Fuck, I just… I couldn’t fucking do it.”

Her mouth falls open as her expression flutters with surprise, her eyes widening. She inhales a shaky breath. “So someone else can’t touch me, but you don’t want me either, right?” I can hear the hurt in her voice, and I hate that I’m the cause of it.

My mouth opens, then closes. I’m struggling between fighting what I know is right and giving into what I want. “No, St. James. You’re wrong. I want you so fucking bad that I’m losing my bloody mind,” I say as I close the distance between us. “You think I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you?”

She swallows roughly, shaking her head. “I mean, you didn’t even acknowledge it, Cillian. What was I supposed to think? I thought you weren’t into it. I know I’m not very good at it, but st—”

“Stop. You’re perfect,” I say, cutting her off again. I hate that she thinks she’s so undesirable, or because she’s not experienced that it’s a turnoff or would make me want her any less.

If anything it makes me want her more, knowing that I’m the one who would be teaching her these things.

That I would be the one creating these experiences for her.

That’s an honor I don’t fucking deserve.

My head shakes, and I reach for her, cupping her jaw in my hand. I sweep my thumb along her bottom lip. “Stop doubting yourself. Everything about you is perfect, Rory, and I’m so bloody sorry that I didn’t talk to you about the other night.”

I feel her hands slide along the front of my shirt, fisting in the material, and I almost shiver.

“Kiss me,” she whispers as she rises on the tips of her toes. “There’s nothing stopping you right now. Kiss me , Cillian.”

A low groan shudders out of me. “For once in my life, I’m trying to do the right thing, Rory. I’m trying not to fuck everything up.”

“Stop trying to decide what I want or what I need,” she murmurs against my lips.

“I can make my own decisions. This doesn’t have to be complicated.

We can just… have fun. Hook up. Do what feels good for both of us.

Clearly, we’re into each other. I’m not asking you to date me. I’m asking you to kiss me.”

But it’s more than that. Whatever this is… it feels like more than that. It feels monumentally fucking dangerous.

I swallow. “And then what, St. James? I kiss you and then what?”

The pads of her fingers press into my stomach, and my dick stirs to life, pressing against the zipper of my trousers.

“Then we… do other things,” she says breathlessly.

Motherfucker.

When I don’t immediately respond, she continues, those pretty wide eyes flaring with heat. “It’ll just be hooking up. Fun, low-key, easy. And I still have things to learn, remember. What happened to I can teach you whatever you want, Rory ?”

She does a piss-poor job at an English accent, and I chuckle, shaking my head at how bloody bad she gets it every single time.

Her plump pink lips curve into a grin.

“You sure?”

There’s not a moment of hesitation as she nods, leaning forward slightly and nipping at the pad of my finger playfully. She’s never been shy or awkward when it comes to the two us, and it’s the reason I’ve always wondered why she needed my help in the first place.

“I’m sure. I get orgasms. It’s a win-win situation.” Both her dark brows lift.

“It’s almost like you only want me for my body, St. James. I’m feeling a bit objectified right now.”

She laughs, tossing her head back and exposing the delicate column of her throat, and my mouth waters from my need to lean closer and drag my tongue along her skin and taste her.

This might be the worst idea in fucking history, but that doesn’t make me want it any less.

“Can you blame me? It’s the tattoos, I think. Apparently guys covered in tattoos are my new type.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, well mine is apparently mouthy little American girls who need their arse spanked.”

I’m teasing, but I don’t miss how her eyes flare and her lips part, as if the thought of me spanking her turns her on as much as it does me.

“Don’t make promises you’re not willing to keep, Cillian. Put that on our list of things to practice.”

Bloody fucking hell.

Despite the fact that I got home at almost two this morning, I’m up at 6:00 a.m. on the dot.

My internal clock refused to give me even a single morning of sleeping in, so I pull myself out of bed, and drink some pre-workout to fully wake up before heading to the weight room on campus to get a workout in.

If I’m going to be up this early, I might as well do something productive.

It’s completely dead when I scan my pass and walk into the gym, the sound of my trainers echoing inside the massive space. Just as I expected it to be since most of the guys probably stayed out late partying and the last thing they want to do on an off day is train when they’re not required to.

When Rory asked me to go back to her apartment last night, I was so bloody tempted to that I almost said yes. I wanted to say yes.

But I also want her to be sure she wants to cross this line with me, because there’s no going back once we do. I respect her, and I don’t want to fuck anything up by taking things too quickly, especially knowing that random hookups aren’t something she usually does.

All I’ve done is fuck things up for the last two years of my life, and I refuse to let whatever this is with Rory be a part of that.

She’s important to me.

I’m halfway through my workout when I hear the heavy double doors open, and a few seconds later Fitz strolls through with his gym bag hefted high on his shoulder, followed by Wren, Hollis, and Liam.

“Cairney, what up, dude? Did you watch that video I texted in the group chat?” Fitz asks as he comes to a stop in front of me.

Unlike most of the blokes on the team, his dark inky black hair is buzzed close to his scalp, and his face is completely clean-shaven.

It makes him look like the youngest even though he’s a junior like me.

I lift the bottom of my T-shirt and swipe away the beads of sweat lining my brow. “Yeah, that shit was hilarious, mate.”

They added me to the “Scrum Lords” chat after the night at the cowboy bar, and truthfully, I still can hardly believe I’m in it, but I’m secretly… pretty okay with it.

Not that I’m making it a big deal, but it feels good to know that they are choosing me instead of Coach having to force us together.

It finally feels like things are looking up, like I’m becoming friends with these guys and forming a bond. It’s something I didn’t think I’d ever want to happen, but the longer I’m at Prescott, the more comfortable I’m beginning to feel here.

Wren and Hollis both fist-bump me and then move to grab weights and some plates for deadlifts.

“How long have you been here? It’s barely seven on a Sunday,” Hollis asks, lifting his leg in a stretch. “You go out and not sleep last night?”

I shrug. “Nah… I don’t party much. Drink. None of that. You know after everything that went down in London, I stay away from shit that I can find myself in trouble with.”

“Yeah, I get you.”

Wren speaks up, his shoulder dipping as he lifts the weight in a curl. “I was thinking, we should have a guys’ night that doesn’t involve partying. I’ve been wanting to do one of those escape rooms.”

“Dude, yeah, my boy that goes to LSU in Baton Rouge told me they have one there; it’s supposed to be cool as shit. Super realistic,” Fitz adds, coming to a stop beside me. “Perfect opportunity for team bonding. But no alcohol or partying involved. What do you say, Cairney? Guys’ night?”

I don’t need to think about my answer.

“Hell yeah, mate. Let’s do it.”

One step at a time is starting to feel like leaps toward where I want to be.