Page 30 of Twisted Play (Cruel Games #1)

EVA

Me

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The Devil

Is that all?

Me

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I didn’t get a chance to see everyone’s file, but these are the players I know have injuries.

“Eva!” Tristan jogged after me as I hurried to exit the locker room. His long stride ate up the distance between us before I could escape.

I forced myself to turn, to meet those earnest golden eyes. My chest ached at his genuine smile. Three days of hiding in stairwells, of ducking out early, of leaving his sweet texts unread, and still, he looked at me like I was worth chasing.

“Hi,” I managed, the word barely a whisper. Tristan caged me against the ice machine, his body curved protectively over mine, leaving me trapped between his warmth and the cold metal at my back.

“You’ve been so busy.” He reached for a strand of my hair and gently tucked it behind my ear. “I’ve missed you.”

The tenderness made me ache. How could I explain that accepting his soft touches felt like betraying him?

“I told you, I don’t date,” I said, ignoring how close he stood to me, how protected I felt wedged against the wall with his body curving over me, standing between me and the world, how much he made me feel like I mattered .

“We weren’t dating, but you won’t even talk to me.”

“Like you said, I’ve been busy,” I said shortly, pushing gently against his chest. “I need to take the ice packs back to Dr. Parker.”

Tristan stooped to lift them into his unfairly strong arms, the muscles in his forearm tensing as he held out his hand for the one I was filling. “Happy to help.”

“Tristan,” I growled, and he bent down to rub his nose against mine.

“So fucking cute, kitten. C’mon, let’s get these to the good doctor.”

Reluctantly, I followed him out of the locker room to the training room, where a few players waited for Dr. Parker and her team of physical therapists to ice and work out old injuries after practice.

Dr. Parker looked at me then at Tristan, then me again before she sighed.

“Don’t date the players,” she’d told me on my first day of practice. I’d reminded her then that I hadn’t my whole junior year, when I was juggling an unpaid internship with the club athletic program in hopes that it’d turn into a paid position my senior year .

And here I was, scant weeks later, with one of the team’s players helping me run fucking errands so he could get into my pants.

Her respect meant the world to me, but blurting out that no matter how much I insisted I didn’t date, Tristan found a way to worm himself into my time would only give him another opening to press his advantage.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the ice packs from Tristan and me. “Go ahead and head out so you can catch the bus.”

“The bus?” Tristan asked, tilting his head, as if he didn’t understand. “You don’t have a car?”

The genuine confusion in his voice made my shoulders tense. Another reminder of the gulf between us, between my world of careful budgets and missed meals and the players’ world of easy financial privilege.

“No,” I mumbled. “I take the bus.”

“It’s nine o’clock at night.” Before I could step away, his fingers circled my wrist. The gentle restraint made my heart race, but whether from fear or want, I couldn’t tell anymore.

“Correct.”

“And you’re going to take the bus. By yourself.”

“Like I have since I was a freshman,” I snapped.

“That’s not safe.”

An astonished laugh barked out of me. Did he think I took the bus back and forth every day for my goddamned health?

“Cole!” Tristan called out, and my stomach dropped. Cole hit the stop button on his treadmill, his movements deliberately slow as he turned to face us. His eyes caught on Tristan’s hand on my wrist then lifted to my face, his blue eyes narrowed.

“We’re taking Eva home tonight so she doesn’t have to take the bus,” Tristan said, the words somewhere between request and demand.

I watched Cole’s jaw tick, saw the calculation in his eyes as he lifted the bottom of his shirt so he could wipe his face, revealing mouthwatering abs. He was making me wait for his answer, letting me remember exactly who held the power here.

“Please,” I tried to say, but the word stuck in my throat. Please what? Please don’t make this worse? Please don’t let Tristan see what I’ve become?

“You take the bus home?” Cole asked finally, his voice deceptively mild. When I nodded, something dark flickered in his expression. “Alone?”

Tristan’s grip tightened protectively. Cole’s eyes dropped to where his best friend touched me, and I felt the temperature in the room drop ten degrees.

“Not anymore,” Tristan said firmly, missing the warning signs I’d learned to read in Cole’s posture. “Right?”

Cole’s lips curved into a smile that made my knees weak. “Right. Can’t have our sparrow riding the bus alone.”

The possessive ‘our’ hung in the air between us. I watched Tristan’s face, wondering if he heard it too. But he just smiled, relieved to have Cole’s agreement, while I silently cataloged all the ways this could go horrifically wrong.

“Dr. Parker, do you need anything else from me?” I asked.

Her lips curved up in a rueful smile, no doubt remembering her exhortations not to hook up with the team. “No, Eva. But consider letting them help, given how late it is tonight.”

Oh, we’d gone from “don’t fuck the players” to “let the players take you home?” I’d have laughed if I weren’t so damn frustrated. Instead of answering, I whirled and stormed out the door, heading to the staff lockers where I stored my bags.

Tristan’s legs ate up the space between us, and he gently caged me against the lockers. I couldn’t help contrasting the care he took with Cole’s brutality.

“Kitten,” he rasped. “Please. Just wait fifteen minutes for us to change, and we’ll take you home. This has nothing to do with whatever’s going on between you and me. We just want to keep you safe.”

“I don’t think there’s any ‘we’ to it.” I knew what Cole thought of me, and safety was the last thing on his mind.

“There absolutely is a we.” Cole leaned against the locker, so close, my arm brushed against his chest when we breathed. “You’re not taking the bus home, and that’s final.”

The audacity of this fucker. I took a breath to let this asshole know exactly what I thought of him, and he placed a finger over my lips like I was a goddamned child. “Sparrow, I believe we had an agreement.”

Tristan’s eyes cut to his friend, but he didn’t say anything. Did Tristan know about the deal? Was he in on it? Playing games with me? My stomach dropped to the floor as doubt filled me.

“Okay,” I whispered, the word falling between them like surrender. “You can take me home this once.”

Tristan’s face lit up with that bright, genuine smile that made my chest ache. “Good girl.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped, more out of habit than heat.

“I wish,” he teased back.

Cole watched us silently, his expression unreadable. But his eyes held a promise that made me shiver.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said finally. “Wait here.”