Page 3 of The Trouble with You (Rixon Raiders 1)

I’d seen it enough over the years. But I’d never seen it from Cameron before. Sure, he went along with Jason’s pranks and efforts to find new ways to piss me off. But he’d never been so blatant about it.

I glare

d back, willing him to look away. But to my surprise—and irritation—he turned around fully, walking backward, his eyes still set right on me. My stomach knotted, the intensity in his gaze disarming. He looked like he either wanted to kill me or devour me, and knowing Cameron the way I did, I knew it wasn’t the latter.

Shit, what had him so worked up?

Except for the wedding, I’d avoided the three of them as much as possible over the summer. They had been gone a lot: attending football camps, and then summer practice, and Mr. Bennet had let them vacation at his place in The Hamptons as a pre-birthday treat for Asher. On the rare occasion they were over at the house, I made myself scarce, locking myself away in my bedroom. But from the way Cameron was looking at me, anyone would think I’d killed his puppy and he wanted slow, painful revenge.

“Hmm, Hails, what is happening right now?” Flick’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, but it wasn’t enough to save me from the trap he’d ensnared me in. “Why is Cameron looking at you like that?” She looped her arm through mine, but before I could respond, Jason appeared out of nowhere and slammed into Cameron, the two of them doing that awkward guy hug thing. I finally shook off the lingering feel of his eyes and went to my locker.

“That was weird,” Flick added.

“Probably just enjoying the show.” My eyes dropped to my chest and rather obvious nipple situation.

“Maybe,” she mused, unconvinced.

I wasn’t convinced either. Because I’m pretty sure Cameron had been sending me a message.

And it looked a lot like game on.

Cameron

“Fuck yeah, senior year,” Asher waggled his brows as he casually leaned against his locker. Most of the kids had already made their way to class, but not our little group. We were in no rush. It wasn’t like anyone was going to tell us to move it along.

“Shit, man, did you get a look at Hailee?” Joel Mackey, a sophomore, and our new tight end, grinned. “Can we thank you for that, Jase?”

My eyes wandered absently to where she was just disappearing down the hall with her best friend. I didn’t linger though, sliding my gaze to Jason who shrugged with indifference. He liked to play with Hailee, but he wasn’t one to brag about it; not outside of our trio anyway.

“Well, I for one, enjoyed the show.”

Before I knew what was happening, my hand collided with Joel, slapping him upside the head. He yelped like a little bitch, his smile replaced with a grimace. “Show some damn respect, that’s your QB’s sister.”

“Step-sister,” Jason corrected me, shooting me a funny look.

“Sorry, Jase, I was only messing around,” Joel mumbled, rubbing away my hand print from his skin.

I hadn’t meant to hit him, but hearing him talk like that about Hailee didn’t sit right with me. Besides, the idea the little fucker had been looking at her at all… The only people allowed to mess with her… to look at her… to talk to her… were Jason, Asher, and me.

“Hey Jason, Cam.” Khloe Stemson, head cheerleader and total pain in the ass, approached us. “Looking good.” Her eyes grazed past Jason and landed on me, and she licked her lips like the viper she was. “I was thinking we should probably get together to talk about the pep rally—”

“Not now, Khloe. We have to get to class.” Jason pushed past her, flicking his head for us to follow. Her eyes fixed on me again, glittering lust and desperation, but if she thought I was going to save her, she was barking up the wrong tree. Khloe wasn’t the kind of girl you saved. She was the kind of girl you fucked and then moved on.

Swiftly on.

“Are we really going to class?” Asher asked as we made our way down the deserted hall.

“What do you think?” Jason grumbled. “I can’t believe we’re stuck with Khloe all year.”

“Like you haven’t already banged that.” Asher elbowed Jase who levelled him with a hard look.

“Exactly,” he ground out. “And I’m not looking for a repeat. Ever.” Contempt dripped from his words, as if the idea of being with a girl more than once was crazy. But then, when girls threw themselves at you the way they did Jason, I couldn’t blame him.

Being a Rixon Raider came with a certain set of privileges. We were treated like gods in the halls at school; and outside the school gates, around town, wasn’t much different. It was easy to get swept up in it all. The girls. The attention. The respect. But being the team’s star quarterback was a whole other deal. Jason Ford wasn’t just a Rixon Raider—he was the Rixon Raider. The guy legends were made of, and we all knew he had a one-way ticket straight to the NFL.

“So, what’s the plan?” Joel said and Jason’s head whipped around as if he’d totally forgotten he was with us.

“You should get to class.”