Page 49 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Cillian

R emind me again why the hell we agreed to this?” Fitz mutters from the seat beside me, a wrinkle forming between his brows as he glances down at the kitchen table.

Wren scoffs, answering for me, “Because our boy Cillian here has this problem where he can’t tell his girlfriend no .”

“Bullshit,” I retort in defense, even though fuck… okay, maybe it’s a bit true. Shit, this is my fault. After that realization, I blow out a breath and wince. “Sorry, mates.”

A chorus of groans rings out around me from my teammates, and I roll my lips together, shrugging.

“What do you want from me? You know what, you’re one to bloody talk, both of you.

” My gaze bounces back and forth between Wren and Fitz.

“She’s not even your girlfriend and she’s still got you by the balls. ”

“What was that?” Rory asks as she walks back into the living room with a plate of cookies.

Wren’s eyes widen, almost comically, and he licks his lips, stuttering, “N-nothing Rory.”

I bite back a grin.

They can say whatever shit they want about me being wrapped around Rory’s finger, but they’ve been wrapped far longer than I have. My teammates would do anything for Rory St. James, and it’s been like that long before I ever arrived at Prescott.

They’re not wrong though. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl, and if that means I’ll be teased relentlessly for it non-bloody-stop by my teammates, then so be it.

I’ll take it any day if I get to be with Rory.

“We were just talking about how lucky we are that you make us cookies.” Fitz smirks as he swipes a still warm cookie off the plate and shoves it into his mouth, talking around a mouthful, “ And put up with Kill’s shit. He’s the lucky one now that I think about it.”

My foot shoots out under the table, nailing him in the front of the shin, causing a low pained groan to tear out of him.

Arsehole.

His eyes find mine, and I just smirk and lift my middle finger, flipping him off while Wren snickers and eats his fourth cookie in a five-minute time span.

Three months have passed since the day I sat in Coach’s office and thought my future at Prescott was over. That my rugby career was over, for good this time.

Three months since Ezra was arrested and expelled for illegally drugging me.

When I think about that day, I should probably feel angry, or betrayed, but the truth is, I’m not anymore. Part of me is glad that it happened, however fucked up it was, because I’m not sure where I would be right now if it hadn’t.

If anything, the shit Ezra pulled brought me and my teammates, the guys I now call my brothers , closer than I ever imagined we would be.

In the last three months we’ve formed an unshakable bond that has made us unstoppable on the pitch. I’ve never seen a rugby team play together the way we have. Seamlessly. A complete force to be reckoned with.

It might sound like we’re cocky arseholes, but it’s the truth.

We’re more than teammates. We’re family. I’ve got their back just the way they have had mine. Because of that… we brought home the championship, and it was truly one of the best moments of my life. I’m so bloody proud of what we’ve been able to accomplish. Together.

And none of that would have happened without Rory, because she’s the glue that holds everyone together.

I love her so fucking much that my chest aches. And not in the way that I’ve experienced over the past two years since my mum died. This is something entirely different. It’s an all-consuming feeling, and every bloody heartbeat belongs to her.

“Mm-hmm. You weren’t complaining about the game I chose for tonight, were you?” Rory mutters as she slides into my lap, looping her arm around my neck. “Because we could always play Twister. I know how much you guys love Twister. Maybe we should play for old times’ sak—”

“No!” Wren screams in horror at the same time Fitz blanches, face tight with alarm, “Absolutely not. No fucking way, Rory.”

Her plump lip curls up into a shit-eating grin, a glint of amusement shining in her pretty chocolate eyes as her fingers slide through my hair at the nape of my neck.

I’ve been letting it grow out slightly for the summer, and she loves it.

She especially loves tugging on the strands when I’m between her thighs devouring her. My favorite meal of the day.

“You sure, because I’ve got it right there in the closet,” she says. Her shoulder lifts in a shrug, and my mates shake their heads, pleading.

I bring my lips to her ears, brushing them against the shell, grinning when she shivers from the contact. “The only way you’re getting me on that damn mat is if you’re on it, naked.”

Rory pulls back, her eyes flaring with heat, tugging her lip between her teeth.

I smirk.

“Can the two of you stop whatever weird thing you’re doing right now? We’re literally sitting right here,” Fitz says. When I glance over at him, he’s wearing a horrified look, but I see his lip curving into a grin.

“Are you jealous, mate?” I ask.

Wren snickers. “Of course he is; you know the only thing he’s committed to is his hand.”

“Fuck off,” Fitz mutters, shoving Wren. “I told you: I’m not looking for anything serious. Now, can we play Hungry Hungry Hippos or not?”

I bark out a laugh, the sound vibrating through me as I shake my head.

Of course, Rory would pick bloody Hungry Hungry Hippos for our game night. It could never be something like poker. No, it has to be something for primary school kids, and I swear she does it just to fuck with Wren and Fitz.

“Yes, yes, we can, Fitz. See, I knew you’d love this one,” Rory says with a blinding smile, which makes my chest do that funny thing where it races and pounds at the same time.

Like it always does.

She excitedly leans forward while the guys start goading each other, bickering back and forth about who’s going to win. I’m not even paying attention to the game, my eyes staying trained on the love of my life.

I don’t give a shit who wins because I’ve already won.

The girl who brought me back to life, piece by piece.

She’s fucking beautiful, and so fucking mine .