Page 31 of Under the Lights (The Big Boys of BRU #2)

Twenty Five

Sierra

Wishing I’d worn tights or at least boots with my skirt, I shivered in the rapidly cooling night air. It was only early September, which usually meant warm days and reasonably mild nights.

But tonight, the breeze carried a rare chill, the cold clawing at my bare thighs.

My study group had run way longer than I’d have liked, but at least we had gotten somewhere. I hated wasting my time. The dry leaves rustled as the wind carried them across the pavement, the path somehow quieter than usual.

I threw a quick glance over my shoulder, relieved when I didn’t spot anything suspicious. Lengthening my strides, I found myself lost in thought again, my mind wandering to the issue that kept me up at night.

Training camp had briefly pushed the embezzlement into the background, but I never forgot about the betrayal, not for one second. With no opportunity to dig up more information and absolute exhaustion seizing my body every day, there wasn’t much I could do from afar.

But I’d returned, even more motivated, to take them down. Expose them for the frauds and horrible human beings they were. Only… I hadn’t gotten anywhere.

I wasn’t the slightest bit closer to exposing them, and my frustration was slowly mounting. There had to be something, somewhere.

Otherwise, I’d have to face the possibility of their winning. Besting me. Getting away with it. And that just wasn’t an option.

My footsteps echoed on the empty, tree-lined path as I shook my head decisively. If I hadn’t been so distracted, maybe I would’ve noticed it sooner.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced down, expecting another team update.

Instead, my blood ran cold.

Unknown: You’re not as clever as you think. We see you. Keep poking around and you won’t just lose your scholarship. You’ll lose everything.

I picked up my pace, fingers tightening around the strap of my bag.

My phone buzzed again. Another message, same number.

Unknown: Watch your back, Sierra. We’re done being nice.

The deep, increasingly familiar rumble of an engine approached rapidly. Headlights illuminated me briefly from behind and cast long shadows into the night.

The obnoxiously massive truck and its equally obnoxious owner pulled level with me. I groaned under my breath, slightly dropping my head back, as I pondered my choices. It was too late to hide behind a tree.

I was too lazy to run away.

Could I just ignore him? I almost wanted to try. But deep down, I already knew I wouldn’t.

Yeah, right. That had worked so well in the past.

I heard the familiar sound of a window rolling down. With a huff, I turned my head and was met with a familiar face, his lazy grin already in place.

Dom leaned over the center console, his big arm draped over the steering wheel. Even from here, I could see his biceps bulging, threatening to tear those poor shirt sleeves.

Fuck. Bad Sierra .

“Fancy seeing you here,” he drawled, his intense gaze raking over my body, drinking in every detail.

“Dom,” I greeted curtly, deciding to just take off again. Maybe he’d get the message.

The truck slowly pulled forward, keeping pace with me. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

“Want a ride?”

“I’m good. Wouldn’t want you to go out of your way.”

He chuckled. “Who said I’d be doin’ any of that?”

Still walking, I threw a glance his way and was met with his quirked brow. “What are you doing here, Dom?”

“I was just in the area.” His tone was all nonchalant, but I stopped short, forcing him to pump the brakes.

“Just in the area?”

“Yup,” he retorted, popping the p. The expression on his face was pure innocence.

Again ? He was just ’in the area’ again?

It was starting to feel less like chance and more like scheduling. There was an odd flutter in my chest.

The truck was still purring softly next to me. I hesitated, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. With a deep sigh, I told myself I’d regret this later but approached his truck anyway.

Sue me. Walking was fucking annoying, it was chilly, and I just didn’t feel like arguing anymore. I knew he wouldn’t give up.

The fluttering sensation in my chest intensified as I held his gaze. This man was possibly lowkey stalking me, and my stupid ass responded with butterflies. Great .

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he stretched out his arm to open the door from the inside for me, surveying my every move as I climbed inside.

His truck smelled like leather and mint gum, like it always did, and he was listening to some kind of UK rap, judging by the artist’s accent.

“You buckled in?” he asked, while already checking the buckle was securely clipped in with his own hands.

I stifled a roll of my eyes with difficulty. He pulled away from the curb and surprisingly, didn’t press for conversation. I did catch him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye every so often, though.

For someone who supposedly wasn’t looking for me, he sure had a knack for being exactly where I was. Like a perfectly timed glitch in the system. Just enough to keep me guessing.

“You stalking me now?” I poked, jokingly, when I couldn’t take the silence any longer.

Dom gave me that weird half-laugh that could mean anything.

He pulled down the corners of his mouth, swayed his head from left to right, and shrugged. “Maybe I just have good timing.”

I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t actually deny it.

Silence engulfed us again, and this time, I let it stretch while I watched his fingers tense slightly on the steering wheel.

He wanted me to ask. To notice. He always played it like I had all the control, but moments like this made me wonder if I ever did.

The drive to my apartment was short, but I was surprised when he pulled into an open spot instead of just stopping in front of the building.

I guess he was coming inside. Again .

As I climbed out, my heart rate was just slightly elevated, not because I was afraid, but because I hated not knowing his angle. If he wanted to throw me off balance, it was working.

And if he wasn’t stalking me? He was doing a damn good impression of it.

As expected, by the time we reached the upstairs apartment, I already regretted accepting the ride. Dom was right on my heels, acting like he belonged there, which — technically — he didn’t.

But when your roommate was his sister, the boundaries got fuzzy — fast.

I unlocked the door and shot him a look over my shoulder. “You know this isn’t your place, right?”

He shrugged and stepped inside like I’d just asked what he wanted for dinner. “Could’ve fooled me. Couch still has my imprint.”

“Yeah, because you’re always on it.” I dropped my bag by the kitchen island, scowling. “Don’t you have your own dorm to infest?”

He flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a smug golden retriever. “Sure. But your Wi-Fi’s better.”

“And yet, you always time it for when I’m home. Weird.”

“Coincidence,” he fired back, gold-green eyes locked on mine as if daring me to call bullshit.

I opened the fridge, needing something cold to distract me. Nothing worth grabbing, so I just shut it again, a little too hard.

He was still watching me. Waiting. Like always.

“You’re annoying.” I narrowed my eyes.

“You’re hot when you’re mean.”

I shot him a glare, but he just grinned wider.

Then, casually — too casually — he said, “Oh, I declared my major today.”

I blinked. “You already have a major?”

He leaned back like he was waiting for applause. “Mechanical engineering.”

“Seriously? I didn’t declare until I was well into my sophomore year.”

“What can I say? Ain’t ever been a late bloomer.” He shrugged, cocking his head as he returned my gaze. “Thought I was just here for the vibes?”

“Honestly?” I crossed my arms. “Yeah, kind of. I’m twenty-three, and I barely know what I’m doing.” How the fuck could he be so sure about … well, everything ? That couldn’t be normal.

He didn’t miss a beat, that smug grin sliding back onto his face. “Age is just a number, Darlin’. But yeah, I get that a lot.”

I scoffed, eyeing him up — the way his sleeves strained over those flexing underarms, the powerful tree-trunk thighs that probably came from lifting way more than textbooks. “You don’t exactly scream ’academic.’”

“That’s the point,” he said, almost too easily. “People underestimate me. It’s useful.”

The way he said it made my skin itch. Like it wasn’t just about classes. Like he always had a plan B.

A blueprint for everything.

“You’re a freshman,” I reminded him. “Most guys your age don’t even have a plan for what they’re eating next.”

“I’ve always had a plan B,” he said in a low voice, his eyes turning dark as he held my gaze. “And a plan C. Doesn’t mean I want to use them. But I like knowing they’re there.”

He sounded less like a student and more like someone expecting the world to fall apart at any second. Which… didn’t exactly scream casual little brother of my roommate .

Still, I forced a smirk. “Well, congrats. I hope your plan includes fixing my car next time it breaks down.”

“Sure,” he drawled, smirking right back. “But it’ll cost you.”

“Pass.” I scoffed.

Ella emerged from her room with damp hair, her bare feet padding across the floor. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against the counter.

I lit one of our scented candles — lavender and fresh linen — hoping to mask the faint scent of our sweat-soaked gear, which unfortunately, we had to store inside the apartment.

“You looked wrecked after practice today,” she said, nodding at me. “Y’all running suicides or something?”

I peeled the wrapper off a protein bar I grabbed out of the pantry, my muscles still sore from yesterday’s conditioning.

I shook out my hand, flexing my fingers slightly. “More like Coach’s weekly attempt to murder us.”

“She does know you’re not training for the Hunger Games, right?”

I smirked. “You say that now. Wait till she makes us run stairs in weighted vests again.”

Ella groaned. “Hard pass. I’ll stick to the tennis courts.” She gave me a sidelong look, like she was trying to guess what I wasn’t saying.

“You thinking about going pro?” she asked, as if it weren’t a big deal.

I swallowed quickly and turned away. “I’m just focused on my senior season.”

Ella didn’t push. She just nodded and went back to her room, tossing over her shoulder, “Good luck with the moody gremlin.”

The door shut behind her. I stood frozen for a moment too long. Thankfully, she didn’t pry, but I knew someone else wouldn’t be as courteous. Truth was, I was scared to say it out loud. Like I’d jinx it.

“You are thinking about it,” Dom said quietly, his voice softer now.

“None of your business.” I bit back.

“You said it too fast.”

I turned to glare at him. “Do you analyze everything people say?”

“Only when they’re lying,” he drawled, one corner of his mouth curling up.

I let out a breath and picked up my tumbler, filling it with water just to keep my hands busy. “Why do you even care?”

“Maybe I like seeing you off balance.” No kidding .

“You’re a menace.”

“Yet you keep letting me in.”

I spun back toward him, my heart thudding a little too fast, heat crawling up my neck. “I don’t let you do anything.”

His smile turned sharp. “Sure, Darlin’.”

Then, as if he hadn’t just set off every nerve in my body, he smiled devilishly.

As he reached for the remote and started flipping through Netflix, I caught myself sneaking a glance at those flexing arms again. The way his thighs pressed into the couch made me wonder how he could be so calm.

I glared daggers at his profile. “You’re staying?”

He didn’t even look over. “You kicked me out last time. I think I earned a night.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He grinned without turning around. “Get used to it.”

With a huff, I stomped toward the bathroom, so fucking ready for a scalding hot shower. Maybe that would clear my head.

“Hey, Darlin’?”

I stopped in my tracks.

“Make sure to lock the door. Wouldn’t want anyone to take this as an invitation now, would we?”

And just like that, he made himself comfortable. On my couch. In my apartment. Like the tension between us wasn’t a live wire slowly burning down.