Page 8 of The Players We Hate (Rixton U #2)

Talon

She was everywhere.

She moved through campus with the grace of something carved from ice, polished into charm. Her chin was lifted, a polite smile fixed in place. She had this way of slipping through a room as if the noise couldn’t touch her, as if she was above it all. Flawless and controlled.

Untouchable.

It pissed me off how easily she wore the mask, pretending that night didn’t exist. Pretending she hadn’t been in my bed, moaning my name, her nails digging into my hair. Pretending I hadn’t mapped every sound, every shiver I drew from her.

Now she was back to being the version everyone else saw and thought they knew, but I’d seen more. I’d felt more. And every time I closed my eyes, she was there. Laid out beneath me, voice ragged, whispering don’t stop , the words carrying the weight of a world that couldn’t survive if I did.

I’d lost count of how many times I woke up hard as hell and twice as pissed. My body remembered something my brain kept trying to forget. I’d thrown myself into workouts, drills, anything that might help drown her out.

Nothing helped. She was still there, lodged in my head, even as she refused to look at me. On campus, she passed me as if I were no one, as if I’d never touched her, as if I didn’t exist at all.

The truth that burned most was that I hadn’t reached out either. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, but because I refused to be her secret. Not when she was mine for ten minutes before vanishing, like it never meant a thing.

I was leaning over the kitchen counter, protein shake untouched in front of me, when Owen finally spoke.

“You gonna glower at your lunch all day, or are you planning to actually drink it?”

I glanced up. He was flipping a puck between his fingers across the room, casual as hell, but I could feel the stare behind it.

“I’m not glowering,” I muttered.

“Sure you’re not,” Rowdy called out from the couch, wrapped in the same ugly fleece blanket he stole every time someone did laundry. “You’ve been sulking all week. You barked at Coach during drills, threw your tape at the wall, and scared that poor kid who wanted your autograph yesterday.”

“He was filming me,” I said, grabbing the shake and taking a slow, bitter sip.

“He was like eight,” Kade deadpanned, shutting the fridge with his hip. “You’ve been skating like a man with something to prove and pacing as if you’re ready to throw hands with anyone who looks at you sideways. ”

I set the bottle down harder than I meant to, the dull thud echoing in the silence that followed.

They were not wrong.

I’d been off. Every muscle in my body wound too tight and one sharp comment away from snapping. I was short with everyone, distracted during film, running drills as if I could outrun whatever was eating at me.

The truth was, I hadn’t been able to shake her, and I hated it.

I hated how much space she took up in my head. How loud the silence was since she left.

I should’ve texted her. Should’ve asked. But I didn’t. Because deep down, I knew how it looked, and I knew it was what she wanted.

Promise me you’ll keep this between us.

I didn’t chase girls who wanted to pretend I didn’t exist or keep what happened a secret.

Yet still, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The look on her face when she came apart for me—raw, as though she’d never let herself feel without control before.

I scraped a hand through my hair and pushed off the counter, grabbing my stick and bag from where they were propped near the door.

“I’m heading to the practice facility.”

Owen raised an eyebrow. “Lift’s not for another two hours.”

“I know.”

“You really prefer sitting alone in a freezing arena over five more minutes with us?”

I shrugged. “It’s quieter.”

“Dude,” Rowdy called out, half laughing, “you’ve got more issues than Vogue .”

I didn’t bother to reply. Instead, I grabbed my keys and headed for the door because the rink was the only place left where I could breathe.

And even that was starting to feel like a stretch.

***

The clang of weights rang out in the quiet gym, each one a warning I couldn’t ignore. I dropped the dumbbells onto the mat with a grunt, chest heaving, arms trembling from the last set. Sweat soaked my shirt and slid down my spine, but the ache wasn’t enough. Not where I felt her.

No matter how many reps I burned through or how heavy I loaded the bar, nothing seemed to work.

She was still there.

And now? She wouldn’t even look at me in passing.

That should’ve pissed me off. Instead, it gnawed at me because this wasn’t only about her anymore. Not after what I saw earlier this week.

Coach lingered outside the weight room, shaking hands with a guy in a tailored navy coat, smiling like a damn politician. I didn’t recognize him at first, not until I caught sight of the lapel pin.

The governor.

Her father .

The man who held enough power to rewrite rules and bury reputations. And Coach? He was nodding like a man who knew exactly where his paycheck came from.

It made my stomach turn.

If he had that kind of pull here, if he’d already greased the wheels for his son once, what was to stop him from doing it again? What was to stop him from pulling strings the second things got messy between me and his daughter?

I racked the bar with a clang, arms burning, lungs dragging for air. But it didn’t touch the knot in my gut. The more I tried to shake it, the more it rooted itself.

If her father had that much power and decided to come after me, I needed to be ready. I needed something I could use—proof, leverage, or a way to hold my ground if the floor started crumbling beneath me.

That was all it was, I told myself.

Just playing defense.

Deep down, I knew that wasn’t the whole truth because some twisted part of me wanted to see her again. The real her. The one who disappeared the moment she slipped out my door. The one who let me touch her without regret.

I grabbed my towel off the bench and wiped down the weights, then headed toward the locker room.

My arms ached, the soreness setting in now that my adrenaline had burned off.

I peeled off my damp shirt and threw it into my gym bag, standing beneath the flickering overhead light with the zipper half open and my mind still spinning.

She shouldn’t matter this much.

I changed quickly into a gray hoodie, dark jeans, and beat-up sneakers, then tossed my gym bag into the storage cage near the back exit. My teammates were still upstairs in the lounge, probably halfway through a Mario Kart tournament and a box of lukewarm pizza.

Rowdy’s laughter echoed down the stairwell just as the door shut behind me.

“Talon! You playing next round or what?”

I hesitated at the bottom step, my fingers tightening around the railing.

“I got some stuff to take care of. I'll meet you back at the house,” I called up, hoping they wouldn’t follow.

I wasn’t in the mood for distractions. Not when I already knew where I was going.

The air outside bit through my clothes, sharp and cool as the sun dipped behind the buildings. I pulled my hood over my head and walked with purpose, cutting across the quad with my hands buried in my pockets.

I didn’t plan my route, and I didn’t have to either. My feet knew where to go.

Her building came into view as the streetlights blinked on. Pale orange glow spilled across the walkway as the front doors opened.

And there she was.

Stepping out like she hadn’t flipped my world upside down a week ago.

Her coat was cinched at the waist, her hair pulled back in a sleek twist that made her look elegant. She walked with her chin high and her steps precise, as if nothing could reach her.

Then a black SUV rolled up to the curb. The driver stepped out and opened the back door without a word .

She didn’t even glance back before climbing in. Some arranged event to keep up appearances or dinner with her parents, maybe.

What mattered was that she wasn’t there. I lingered outside for a while, long enough to see Alisa slip out with a group of girlfriends. One look at her outfit told me she was headed to the football parade, which meant their room was clear.

No witnesses. No questions.

The front steps were empty, the doors wide open as a group of students spilled out, laughing and dragging backpacks behind them. I slipped in unnoticed, nodding casually at a guy in an RA jacket loitering near the security desk.

I hesitated long enough for him to glance up.

“Hey,” I said, flashing the easy grin I saved for the cameras. “Sorry to bug you. My teammate left his charger in a room upstairs, said it was an emergency or something. Mind if I run up to get it real quick?”

The guy frowned, tapping his pen against the desk.

“Which room?”

“Uh…” I stalled, blurting out the first number that came to mind. “Three-ten.”

I only knew which door was hers because I’d helped Alisa haul boxes when she moved into the dorm. Back then, I hadn’t realized she was Wren’s roommate. I never thought that small detail would matter until now.

The RA paused, then shrugged like he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Be quick,” he said, reaching into a drawer and sliding over a key card. “Bring it right back. ”

“Appreciate it, man.”

I took the card before he could change his mind and made my way to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time.

The third floor smelled of citrus-scented cleaner and cheap floor wax. A vending machine hummed near the end of the hall.

I paused outside the door I knew to be Alisa’s room. I hadn’t expected it to be this quiet. This easy.

I slid the card into the lock, waited for the soft click, then slipped inside.

The room was dim, with only a little light slipping through the sheer curtains. It smelled of warm vanilla, maybe her shampoo. The scent hit me before I could brace for it.

I closed the door quietly, letting my eyes adjust. Her side of the room looked untouched, almost staged.

A cream throw was folded at the foot of the bed, with decorative pillows stacked in order.

The lamp on her desk was dark, but the gold accents still caught the light—pens lined up, a leather notebook with a ribbon, and a framed photo turned face down behind a pile of textbooks.

It didn’t feel staged. It felt... lonely.

I stepped farther in, my footsteps muffled by the rug in the center of the room. Every move sounded too loud. I didn’t even know what I was after—proof there was more to her than the polished front. Something I could hold on to if it ever came down to me against her father.

A note. A message. A mistake left out in the open .

Instead, I found a planner tucked beneath the pillow. I hesitated before I opened it. She looked too soft to be dangerous.

But so did her brother once.

My fingers closed around the planner, and I pulled it free. Heavier than I expected, it was packed full. Each page was a carefully constructed day. I flipped to the current week and scanned the neat, meticulous handwriting.

Color-coded blocks with class assignments, study groups, and volunteer events. And then tonight: 7:00 p.m. — Dinner with Parents.

Figured.

But what made my chest catch was what I saw scribbled in the corner of the page. A cluster of faint inked vines, half-drawn stars, and below it in small cursive: Some people sparkle. Others fade trying to be seen.

The words didn’t scream for attention. They were tucked away like a secret, as if she hadn’t meant for anyone to ever read them.

And for some reason... they gutted me.

I thought about the way she moved through campus, carrying herself as though she were above it all. But now I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t power—maybe it was armor.

She didn’t want to be watched. She wanted to be noticed, but for the right reasons.

My gaze dragged across the rest of her desk—lined notebooks, capped pens, a candle that hadn’t yet been lit. I found another book under the lamp. A journal. The kind you didn’t write assignments in.

I started to reach for it, then let my hand drop. This wasn’t what I came for. I told myself I needed leverage—something to hold on to if one mistake with the governor’s daughter was enough to cost me my season. Maybe even my career.

The longer I stood there, the less I believed that was true. Maybe I wanted to understand her, to see a piece of the version that stayed with me when the lights went out.

I backed away from the desk, nerves suddenly prickling the back of my neck when I heard voices echoing from the hallway outside. My mind immediately jumped to wondering if it was her or Alisa coming back.

I crossed the room fast, double-checked the lock, and smoothed the blanket where I’d moved it. I paused one last time by the desk. The planner sat exactly where I’d found it, yet something still felt off.

I slipped out into the hallway, heart thudding against my ribs.

After passing the elevator, I ducked down the stairs instead, taking them two at a time. Before I hit the exit, I doubled back and returned the spare key to the RA’s desk, tucking it behind the clipboard where I’d seen the guy grab it earlier.

I was almost in the clear. Almost.

I pushed open the stairwell door, the cool night air brushing against my face in a rush. And then I collided with someone. The jolt knocked me back a step, a soft gasp breaking the quiet.

“Talon?”

I glanced down, and my eyes met hers.

Wren.

Her hair was pulled back neatly, lips parted in surprise, a take-out bag clutched in her hand. I hadn’t expected her to be back already.

My stomach sank.

Shit.