Page 40 of The Players We Hate (Rixton U #2)

Wren

The library at night felt different. The hum of fluorescent lights filled the silence, washing everything in a flat, pale glow.

Rows of books stretched on forever, most of the tables empty.

Just a couple of stragglers remained—a girl half asleep over her laptop, earbuds in, her head bobbing now and then; and a guy nearby flipping through flashcards, whispering answers under his breath.

The rest of the place was empty.

My table was a disaster. Binders cracked open with highlighters jammed in the spines, compliance files stacked crooked, sticky notes scattered with messy reminders—deadlines, names, rules I didn’t want to forget.

My coffee had long gone cold, but I kept drinking it anyway.

The bitterness was enough to keep me awake.

I rubbed my thumb over the edge of a binder and dragged my focus back to the highlighted section in front of me. The words blurred from staring too long, my neck stiff, my shoulders sore from hunching. I pushed it aside.

I was here because it was the right thing to do—because I couldn’t stand by knowing what I know, not when someone could seriously get hurt. This was my chance to prove I was more than my last name. Not my father’s daughter. Not Wells’s sister. Not even Talon Pierce’s distraction. Just Wren.

The thought steadied me. I picked up my pen, scribbling into the margins, forcing myself to keep moving through the fog of exhaustion.

That was when a shadow fell across the desk.

“Burning the midnight oil, huh?”

My head jerked up, my pen nearly slipping from my hand. Talon stood across from me, shoulder propped against a row of books, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes swept over the mess of files and binders scattered in front of me before flicking back to my face.

I forced a quick smile, reaching to stack the papers into a neater pile, covering the notes I’d been circling for the last hour. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He didn’t buy it. I could tell by the crease in his brow, the way his gaze narrowed on the corner of a document I hadn’t tucked away fast enough.

“You always pull out compliance paperwork when you’ve got insomnia?” His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it.

My laugh came out thinner than I meant. “Guess I’m a nerd now.” I dragged another binder on top of the stack, my hand pressing down harder than necessary, like that would keep him from looking closer.

Talon pushed off the shelves and closed the distance between us, suspicion hanging off him thick enough to twist my stomach.

He didn’t stop until he braced a hand on the edge of the table, close enough that the air shifted with him.

His jacket was gone, replaced by a gray Henley with the sleeves shoved up his forearms, worn jeans slung low on his hips.

His hair was a mess—careless in a way that only worked on him.

My pen froze. My pulse did, too.

“You should be at some party at the hockey house,” I whispered, softer than I meant to, the words slipping out before I could catch them. The library was nearly empty, but being caught still made me lower my voice.

His mouth curved in not quite a smile but not quite a smirk. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

My gaze dropped to his empty hands. No tablet. No playbook. Nothing. “Yet you came all the way here? What—planning to study tape without the tape?”

“Maybe I was hoping you’d play it back for me,” he said, easy as ever. And before I could react, he slid into the chair across from me like he planned to stay.

I sighed and dragged a stack of sticky notes closer, lining them up between us like a wall. “I’m busy.”

“Mmm.” His gaze swept over my binders, the coffee, the color-coded notes. He propped his elbows on the table and leaned in, his voice low but nowhere near quiet enough. “Looks like you could use a break.”

I forced my eyes back to the page. The words blurred anyway. “What I need is for you to stop distracting me.”

He chuckled, soft but irritatingly warm. “Who said anything about distracting you? I’m just here to keep you company.”

My chest tightened—equal parts annoyance and something else I didn’t want to name. He was the last person I needed here. And the only one I couldn’t stop noticing.

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, squeezing the pen in my hand. The girl a few tables over pulled out her earbuds and shot me a glare.

Talon leaned in closer, smirk spreading, and lowered his voice into an exaggerated whisper. “Oh, sorry. Is this quiet enough for you?”

The girl jerked upright and stabbed her pen toward us. “Shhh!”

Heat rushed up my face. I dropped lower in my chair and pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course he’d turn the library into his stage.

“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, flipping a page harder than necessary.

He propped his chin on his hand, elbow sliding across the table until he was crowding my space again.

His gaze drifted over the pile of notes and binders, then lifted back to me—sharper now, the smirk edged with suspicion.

“So this is what the governor’s daughter does during her late-night study sessions?

Binders. Sticky notes. Compliance reports.

What are you really working on that needs all this? ”

I shot him a look, pulse ticking up. “And this is what the golden boy does? Wanders into libraries he has no business being in, bugging people who are actually working?”

His grin flickered, but it didn’t fade. “Careful. Keep snapping at me like that, and people are going to start asking why we’re always in the same room.”

My pen stalled in my hand. The words hit closer than they should. I dropped my eyes to the page, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat crawling up my neck. “Then maybe you should keep it down before they get the wrong idea.”

Talon chuckled low, the sound curling in my stomach. “If they only knew how loud you can be.” His voice was soft, pitched just for me, but when I glanced up, suspicion shadowed his expression, eyes darting back to my notes. “Seriously, though—what are you hiding in those files?”

My elbow clipped the edge of a folder, and papers spilled everywhere. “Perfect.” I blew out a breath, shoved my chair back, and snapped the folder shut. “You know what? Forget it.”

Before I could gather more than a couple of pages, Talon crouched beside me, moving quick, steady—like he’d done this a hundred times. His knee knocked into mine as he reached under the table. Our hands landed on the same sheet, his fingers brushing mine.

The jolt was immediate. My breath caught, and I pulled back too fast, crumpling the page in my grip. “Got it,” I muttered, aiming for casual.

But he didn’t move away. His shoulder stayed against mine, his cologne cutting through the musty scent of old books. The library felt smaller, the silence pressing in instead of settling.

“Funny how quiet this place is,” he murmured, lips grazing the edge of my ear. “Makes every sound louder. Even your heartbeat.”

I swallowed hard, willing my chest to settle, but my heart kept racing. I was sure he could feel it.

“You’re distracting me,” I whispered, but it came out shaky, nothing close to convincing.

“Pretty sure you’ve been distracting me all season.” His smirk curved against my skin, then his gaze flicked to the stack on the table. “What are these, anyway?”

His eyes locked on mine again. His grin sharpened as he leaned in closer, close enough that my lips parted without thinking.

And then—

“Ahem.”

The sound sliced through the air.

We both jolted back, and I nearly smacked my head on the table. Heat crept up my neck as I gathered the scattered papers, stacking them just to keep my hands busy.

The librarian stood at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, glasses low on her nose. Her stare could cut glass.

Talon didn’t flinch. He just flashed her a grin. “Sorry, ma’am. We’ll keep it down.”

She didn’t budge at first, her stare holding long enough that I wanted to sink under the table. Finally, she turned away, muttering as she disappeared between the stacks.

I slammed the last file onto the desk and sank into my chair, dragging a hand down my face. “You’re impossible.”

Talon took the seat across from me, leaning back with his arms folded, smirk firmly in place. “And you’re blushing.”

My glare slipped. My chest was still tight, my pulse still racing. He knew it.

If anything, the interruption only made him bolder. He leaned forward again, voice pitched low so only I could hear. “Careful, Wren. Keep looking at me like that, and people really will start asking questions.” His smirk twisted into something darker. “We’ll finish this later.”

The words coiled low in my stomach, sharp and heavy. I jerked back, trying to mask it with a hard look, but the heat in my cheeks betrayed me. He saw it. He knew it.

He pushed to his feet, stretching his arms as he rolled his shoulders, more like he was stepping onto the ice than leaving a library.

The Henley pulled across his chest, sleeves shoved to his forearms, confidence dripping from every step.

He didn’t spare my notes a glance. His eyes stayed locked on me until he finally turned and walked out.

The doors closed behind him, leaving me with the hum of the lights, the shuffle of papers, and the faint scratch of a pen at the neighboring table. Normal sounds. None of it drowned out his voice in my head.

We’ll finish this later.

I sank back in my chair, pressing my pen into the margin until the ink bled through. The folders were half stacked, my bag hanging open, but I couldn’t bring myself to finish packing. My heartbeat wouldn’t settle. My skin still buzzed where his breath had been.

I was furious—at him for knowing exactly how to throw me off. At myself for letting him. And, worst of all, at the part of me that hadn’t wanted him to stop.