Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
LEO
The ball hit the hardwood with a crisp, satisfying echo. Over and over.
Bounce. Bounce. Spin. Shot.
Swish.
I barely watched it drop. Didn’t need to.
I wasn’t here to miss.
“Yo,” Xavier called out, towel slung around his neck, “you gonna actually run a drill or just make love to the three-point line?”
I caught the rebound and passed it hard enough to sting his hands. “Don’t need drills. I’m already better than you.”
He scoffed. “Cocky this early? What’d you eat for breakfast—arrogance and protein powder?”
“Your mom.”
The guys groaned and laughed. Garrett muttered something about Leo being on one, and Tristan—still hungover from who knows what—barely looked up from the bench where he nursed a Gatorade like it owed him child support.
I grabbed my shirt off the bleachers, but didn’t put it on. The gym was humid, reeking of sweat, polish, and ambition. And I liked feeling the sting of cool air on my back after every shot. Every missed thought.
Because I couldn’t get her out of my head.
Jade.
Little scholarship girl with hurricane eyes and a mouth made of fire.
Gitanilla.
Sharp and wild at the bonfire. Polished and buttoned-up during study hour. And still—somehow—just as hot in both versions.
She hadn’t texted. Hadn’t even flinched when I kissed that girl in front of her at the beach. Like I didn’t even rattle her.
Which only made me want to rattle her more.
Break the careful control she keeps clinging to like a lifeline.
“She’s in your head,” Tristan called without looking up, like he read my thoughts.
I sank a jumper from half court. “No one’s in my head.”
“Right. That’s why you’re playing like you’re trying to exorcise demons.”
“I am,” I muttered. “Just not mine.”
He finally looked up. Smirked. “You know, you could just ask her out. Like a normal human.”
I scoffed. “You think someone like me gets to date someone like her?”
“She’s hot. You’re hotter. Do the math.”
“It’s not that simple.” I palmed the ball and stared up at the scoreboard. “She’s not one of us.”
“She kissed you back, didn’t she?”
That shut me up.
Because yeah… she did.
And I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.
Her lips. The fire. The chaos I felt in my blood when she pushed back, when she didn’t fall at my feet like the others.
Jade Bryan was a problem.
And I wanted to sink deep into the mess she was making in my chest.
Even if it burned me alive.
Alright,” Xavier said, stretching his shoulders and wiping sweat from his brow, “spill it.”
I rolled the ball under my palm, slow and steady. “Spill what.”
“Don’t play dumb.” He stepped closer, grinning like a wolf. “The study session with Royal Oaks’ favorite little mystery girl.”
Garrett perked up from where he was chugging water. “Ohhh, is this about the girl who roasted y’all at the beach?”
“She roasted you, bro,” I corrected.
“Still counts,” he shot back.
“Fine,” Xavier said, folding his arms. “Tristan, give us the play-by-play. Leo’s not gonna say anything useful.”
Tristan didn’t even look up from where he was scrolling through his texts. “You mean the most sexually tense AP History session in the greater New England area?”
Xavier laughed. “That bad?”
“That good.” Tristan lifted his shades onto his head. “Leo was full throttle golden retriever energy. Following her around the table like she had the answers printed on her jeans. Which, by the way, I think he memorized.”
“Did not,” I muttered.
“He totally did,” Tristan shot back. “Every time she leaned over the laptop, I thought his pupils were gonna dilate out of his skull. It was painful.”
“She into it?” Xavier asked.
Tristan gave a lazy shrug. “She gave as good as she got. Sharp tongue, quick comebacks, sarcasm turned up to eleven. She’s got claws.”
I cleared my throat and grabbed my water bottle, hoping to redirect.
It didn’t work.
“Oh and get this,” Tristan said, lighting up now. “At one point, I draped an arm around her just to see what would happen—Leo nearly bit the glass off the coffee table.”
Garrett hooted. “You serious?”
“Dude looked like he was gonna rearrange my face.
“Shut up,” I grumbled.
Xavier stepped in, still grinning. “So what’s the plan, Holt? Gonna actually make a move or just keep acting like she’s not living rent-free in that over-inflated head of yours?”
“There’s no plan,” I said.
“Bullshit.”
“She’s…” I paused. “Complicated.”
“Translation,” Tristan muttered, “she’s not rich, not connected, and doesn’t suck up to you like everyone else.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
“She doesn’t belong here,” I finally said, jaw tight. “Not in this world.”
Xavier raised a brow. “And yet here she is—wearing the uniform, checking all your boxes, and somehow still not giving a single damn what any of us think.”
“She’s got balls,” Tristan said. “I’ll give her that. But the real question is—what are you gonna do when she stops pretending not to notice you?”
I looked out at the court. At the ball. At anything but them.
What was I gonna do?
No idea.
But if I didn’t figure it out soon, I was gonna lose more than a few hours of sleep.
I was gonna lose my edge.