Chapter 5
Five
BASS
It should have been easy to let her walk away.
Hell, I’ve never had trouble letting a girl walk away before. Usually, they come right back. Sometimes that night. Sometimes, the next morning, with one of my hoodies, “they forgot” to return.
But Kai Vega?
She doesn’t even hesitate. She leaves the room like she’s walking off a battlefield, head high, spine straight, heels slicing the floor with purpose.
And I’m standing here—again—staring at her back like a goddamn idiot.
She hit me with a whole “there is no yet”—said it like it was a done deal. Like, whatever this could be is so laughably beneath her, it doesn’t even merit a discussion. I can’t be the only one who feels this charged energy between us, can I?
I sit back down in the still-warm chair she left behind and press my hands together behind my head.
What the hell just happened?
It wasn’t the questions that got to me. I understood the assignment. Hell, I’ve handled tougher questions—like after I fought that asshole from Nevada State and got benched for a week. No, it wasn’t that.
It was her.
First of all, she looked like a straight man-eater in that red, fitted blazer and matching mini-skirt. And I swear on my Mom’s brown butter Rice Krispie treats that she wasn’t wearing any panties under that fucking skirt.
Hell, I’m rock hard just imagining it.
But secondly, there’s the way she looks at me with those soft brown eyes of hers.
The way she refuses to be impressed.
Like I ain’t shit.
Honestly, I should be pissed. What kind of branding expert judges someone before they even get started with them? She’s already decided that my only agenda in life is to fight and fuck.
And yeah, I may have said some stupid things to give her that impression—I always do when I’m trying to get under someone’s skin. But she dodged every move like she’d seen the playbook three times over.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t blush. Or didn’t bite.
Except when I told her, people think I don’t care.
That was the only moment she looked at me like I might be a half-decent human being.
And then she pulled the plug.
Straight up, cut the power.
I stare at the door she walked out of like I’m expecting her to change her mind and swing it back open. Maybe jump in my lap and shove her tits in my face like so many others have done.
Wishful thinking because spoiler alert: she doesn’t.
Back at the Ice House, it’s loud—Deuce blasting music, a few freshmen yelling over a Mario Kart match, someone trying to cook and definitely setting off the smoke alarm. Normal chaos.
But I’m not in the mood for it.
I cut through the noise and grab a water bottle from the fridge, chug half of it, then lean against the counter with my arms crossed and my head still spinning.
She said no.
She looked me in the eye, dropped that word like a gavel, and walked out.
Like I was nothing.
And I should be pissed.
I am pissed.
But I’m also... intrigued.
Because Kai Vega might think she knows who I am—thinks I’m just another jersey-chasing, fight-starting, campus-famous egomaniac—but the truth is?
She has no fucking clue.
“Dude.”
Shane’s voice cuts through my mental spiral. He walks in, grabs an energy drink, and leans next to me.
“You look like someone stole your stick.”
“Worse,” I mutter.
“Vega again?” he grins.
“My one-on-one was today.”
Shane whistles. “Should I be worried about mine?”
“I think you’re safe. It’s me she has a problem with.”
“And that bothers you?” he asks incredulously. It’s rare for me to be bothered by what people think.
“She told me, or maybe alluded, that I wasn’t trustworthy. That I don’t take anything seriously. That I’m not special. Then she walked out like she just submitted a standardized test—relieved it was over.”
He cracks open his drink. “Damn. She hit you with the character assassination and the emotional tax.”
“I don’t get it,” I snap. “I’ve never done anything to her. I mean, yeah, I was late. I joked around. But that’s my thing.”
“Maybe she’s not into your thing. Believe it or not, not every woman is going to fall for your bad boy jock thing.”
“I don’t need her to be into anything. I just—” I stop, biting the inside of my cheek.
“I’m surprised you care about what Vega thinks at all.”
“I don’t necessarily care,” I lie. “I just don’t like how she looks at me. Like she’s already made up her mind.”
Shane watches me for a beat. Then says, “So change her mind.”
I laugh. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“You’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”
“She’s not a challenge.”
I don’t want anyone thinking that this girl has me twisted into a pretzel. That’s not who I am. My pop taught me well: Don't ever let pussy derail you from your dreams, Bass. That's for the weak ones, and it's never worth it.
He raises a brow. “Then why are you this worked up?”
I don’t answer.
Because deep down, I already know the truth.
She’s the first person in a long time who’s made me question my behavior.
Who, dare I say, makes me want to be better?
Just so she’ll look at me differently. Just so she’ll see I’m more than my reputation, more than a good time with a puck bunny, more than the guy who walks in late and mindlessly plays around like nothing matters.
“Where’s Kennedy?” I ask him.
“Why?” Shane's voice drops an octave whenever anyone brings up his girl.
“She knows Kai, right?”
“Don’t bring Kennedy into this.”
“Shane, I just want to ask her a few questions.”
“Think about that. Girls talk. You’re going to grill Kennedy about Kai, and then what do you think will happen? She’s going to go right back and tell her what y’all discussed, and that’s not going to help your case.”
“Tell her not to.”
Shane chuckles. “You think I can tell Kennedy to do anything?”
I chug the rest of my water, wishing it were tequila. I don’t drink alcohol during the season because of my training protocol but damn there are times I wish I did.
I head upstairs, toss my phone on my bed, and sit down, the mattress creaking beneath me.
I’ve got one shot to rewrite the story Kai's already written in her head.
So yeah—she said no.
But that wasn’t the end.
That was the start.