Page 30 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Cillian

O kay, spill. Who is she?” Aisling asks, elbowing me roughly in the ribs and pulling my attention from my phone. “And why don’t I know about her yet?”

I glance over at her, my brow furrowed. “Who is… who?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh? Is that what we’re doing? Pretending you haven’t been glued to your phone for the past three days? I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you text this much… ever . Like in your entire life, Cillian.”

Yeah, well, I’ve never been much of a texter.

At least I wasn’t until I met Rory.

We haven’t seen each other for a few days because our schedules have been hectic with classes, training, and she had a group session for a project that she’s working on, so we’ve been texting randomly throughout the day.

When I was leaving the weight room this morning, I almost ran into the fucking door because I opened my phone to a photo of her lying in bed wearing nothing but a tight tank top and those bloody nightie shorts that I dream about, curving high around her plump little arse.

She’s tiny, barely reaching my chest, but somehow those legs go on for days.

I could make out the tight pebbles of her nipples straining against the thin fabric of the shirt, making perfect little mounds, and my mouth watered.

I want to suck on them and drag my teeth over the sensitive peaks until she’s writhing and begging for my cock.

I haven’t stopped thinking about the way she came on my fingers, or how bloody sweet she tasted as I sucked her off them that afternoon in the equipment room.

It was stupid and reckless doing it on school property, and even so… I don’t regret it.

Not in the slightest.

“Just been fucking off, watching videos” is all I respond, and it earns me a hard jab in the ribs from Ais. I groan, dropping my phone. “Fucking hell, Ais.”

She lifts her chin, crossing her arms over her chest, and arches a brow.

I sigh and lean back against the couch cushion.

It’s not that I want to keep anything from her; she’s the closest person in my life. It’s just… a little fucking complicated.

Even if Rory and I are just hooking up, it’s still complicated because of who Rory is and who I am. What my past is like. And whatever my future looks like.

“It’s… complicated.”

Her eyes light up and she squeals, “I knew it! You better tell me everything right now, Cillian. I will not speak to you for an entire week if you don’t. I can’t believe you kept something this exciting from me.”

Fuck.

My throat works as I pull my palm down my face, exhaling. I force my gaze back to her. “It’s Rory St. James. Coach’s daughter.”

Aisling’s jaw falls agape and her eyes widen. “ Cillian. ”

“I know. But it’s… casual ,” I say roughly, slightly sharper than I intended. “It’s not like I set out to get with the coach’s daughter, Ais. It kind of just happened. But… I’m into her.”

“You like her?” she asks.

I hesitate for a moment, not entirely sure how to answer that question. My jaw tenses when I move my hand over my mouth.

Of course I bloody like her. She’s fucking gorgeous, smart, and witty. Funny and absolutely brilliant when it comes to rugby.

If things were different, and I was capable of giving her what she deserved, I would probably try to date her. Take her out, do anything to make her happy. Be the kind of guy that I know she wants.

That’s not possible when the life I want is back in London.

Regardless of whether I like her. That doesn’t make a difference.

Chewing on the corner of my lip, I nod. “She’s great. But we’re just… hooking up. Having fun.”

Aisling shrugs, her dark curls bouncing with the motion. “Fun’s good. As long as you’re good… with fun?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I reply. My phone dings between us and we both glance down at the screen.

A picture message from Rory.

Fuck.

“So she must be the reason you’ve been so MIA lately?” Aisling teases, her dark brow lifted. “I’ve been here all alone.”

Realization slams into me like the weight of a truck. “Shit, Ais, I’m sorry I—”

She holds her hand up, stopping me with a soft laugh. “Cillian, I’m just joking. I’m glad you’re out having fun and not locked away in your room or working yourself to death in the training room. You need this.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t be leaving you here by yourself so much. What if your sugar drops and I’m not here?”

Guilt claws at my throat, along with a piercing shard of panic at the thought of something happening to Aisling when she’s alone and I’m not here to help. It’s my biggest fear.

Hell, I’m the entire reason she had to pick up her entire life and move to a new country, and I’ve been leaving her alone so I could fuck off with Rory.

“Cillian, stop,” she says, placing her small hand on my forearm and squeezing gently.

“Don’t do this. Honestly, you’re kind of suffocating, in the best way.

You can’t keep me in a bubble for my entire life, and you can’t protect me from everything.

I’m an adult now, and if you’re not home and my sugar drops, then I know how to take care of it.

I think moving to America is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. ”

What?

My brow furrows, surprise flooding my face, but she continues before I can even speak.

“I can see you’re shocked by that, but it’s true, Kill. Being here has helped me find myself. Become more independent and not feel so much like a burden.”

“Ais, you’re never a fucking burden,” I mutter quietly, shaking my head with a grimace.

Her expression softens, and she drops her hand, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top.

She peers at me through eyes that look so much like Mum’s it makes my chest physically ache.

“It’s just been hard since Mum died, and since coming here, it’s the first time I’ve felt the sun in a long time.

I’m happy and I want you to be happy too.

And it seems like Rory makes you happy, whether it’s temporary or not. You deserve happiness, Cillian.”

The conversation’s turned unexpectedly heavy, and emotion weighs thickly in my throat the way it usually does when we bring up Mum and everything that’s happened in the past couple of years.

“I love you, Ais.”

“Love you too, Kill.” She gives me a cheeky smile when I reach out and ruffle her hair like she’s a toddler, something she pretends to hate but that I’ve done all her life.

“I’m going to make an effort to be around more. I know what you said, but I don’t like the idea of you being here by yourself so much.”

Her eyes roll. “Grown woman now, remember? I’m fine. Plus, I’ve been hanging out with a few of the girls from the astrophysics club. We’ve been getting coffee sometimes.”

Christ. That makes me so bloody happy to hear.

Aisling’s been painfully shy and quiet since she was a kid, and making friends has always been a struggle for her.

She’s always been sensitive too. The nurturer while I’m the enforcer.

Hearing she’s making friends at Prescott takes a weight off my shoulders that I didn’t even know had settled on them.

It makes me worry less knowing she’s got someone.

“That’s great. No boys though.” I grin, earning another eye roll and a scoff.

“Right. Because there’s so many opportunities to meet guys when I’m drowning in classes and now tutoring on the side.”

I shrug. “I love it. Maybe study more, yeah?”

Her giggle rings out through the living room, and I find myself smiling too.

“Remember the bubble you’re not going to keep me in?

Applies to guys too, Kill. Sorry, but the overprotective brute of a brother thing isn’t going to stop my dating life, whenever there is one,” she sasses, cocking a brow and giving me a pointed stare.

“Not that it’s even a possibility, but anyway, enough about my nonexistent dating life because this is awkward.

How about you invite Rory over for dinner tomorrow? I want to meet her.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good id—”

Aisling slaps her hand over my mouth, cutting me off. “I don’t know why I even asked. What I meant to say is be sure to tell Rory that we’re having a pizza-and-movie night tomorrow and to be here for seven.”

I know better than to argue with her because it’ll get me nowhere. Aisling knows she has me wrapped around her finger, and she’s not afraid to use it to her advantage.

Once Aisling falls asleep, midway through the movie she forced me to watch—something about bloody dragons—I finally open Rory’s message from earlier.

Another photo, but this time, it’s just her face as she holds up her latest cross-stitch, a sweet smile on her face.

Christ, she’s so bloody pretty.

Cheeks rosy pink, almost the same shade as her plump lips, and her eyes warm, rich chocolate as she gazes into the camera.

Followed by another text asking me to come over with a tongue out emoji.

And even though it’s after midnight when I read the message, and I’ve got economics at eight a.m., I find myself at her apartment, standing on her doorstep.

I can’t help myself. It’s like I’ve had one single taste and now I’m addicted and desperate for another.

Or maybe it’s because I like being around her. I like how everything seems quieter when I’m with her. I like laughing with her.

If I’m being honest I like everything about her.

It takes her only a moment to answer the door, almost as if she was waiting for me.

There’s a lazy smile on her face as she peers up at me through her thick, dark lashes. “Hi.”

Her hair is down and wet from a shower, and when she swings the door open wider, I get a whiff of her sweet floral scent and nearly groan.

I’m starting to realize how fucked I am. Lately, all I’ve been thinking of is Rory, and that’s a problem.

I can’t afford distractions. I can’t lose focus on the reason I’m here.

“St. James.”

Blinking up at me, she draws her plush pink lip between her teeth and reaches for me, fisting her hands in the front of my shirt and hauling me inside.