Chapter Seven
Joshua
The guys were already bitching about the warm-up laps, feet pounding against the turf, breaths loud in the late afternoon air. I led them like always, pace steady, ears tuned to the rhythm of our steps being in sync.
That’s when I saw her. Aurora.
Folder clutched tight against her chest like it was a shield. Head down, shoulders curled in, not even daring to step onto the field, just hovering by the bleachers like she’d walked into some place forbidden. Like she was waiting for someone to kick her out.
My jaw clenched. She wasn’t disturbing anyone. She wasn’t disturbing me. If anything, I wanted to drag her ass right onto the field, sit her down where everyone could see and let her know she belonged here.
Instead, I kept running. Didn’t break stride, didn’t let the guys see me falter.
But my eyes… yeah, they betrayed me.
They kept flicking back toward her, again and again. Watching the way she pressed herself into the shadows, as if she thought the sun didn’t want to touch her either.
Pathetic
She probably thought she was in the way. That she was interrupting something. And I wanted to shout across the whole field that she wasn’t. That she could stand wherever the hell she wanted.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to raise my voice at her, ever.
So I kept my pace, every muscle tight, lungs burning, but not from the run. From the way her presence wrapped around me, even when she wasn’t doing a damn thing.
The whistle blew; last lap done. The guys peeled off toward the benches, bending over, hands on knees, groaning like they’d been through hell. I didn’t stop. Not until I crossed to her.
She noticed me coming, of course she did. She always does. Her spine straightened instantly, folder pressed tighter against her chest. Then—
Fuck. She smiled.
Not wide. Not bright. Just… awkward. Uneven. Like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to. Like she was asking permission to sit down, asking with her lips instead of her voice. And my brain short-circuited.
I forgot how to breathe.
How to move.
Everything in me just locked up because Aurora Mae Campbell smiled at me. At me.
God, it didn’t even make sense. She’s given me nods, blinks, all her pathetic little acknowledgements that I’ve grown addicted to, but this? A smile? It felt like she’d handed me something no one else was ever allowed to see. Something fragile. Something I should keep.
I should’ve said something. Should’ve barked out my usual cold nothingness to remind her what I am to her. Dangerous. Untouchable. But instead, I cleared my throat and simply told her in a flat tone. “Sit.”
She lowered herself onto the bench, folder balanced on her lap like a shield, and I turned back to the field, barking for the players to get into position. They groaned but obeyed, spreading across the grass.
Still, I didn’t watch them. I watched her.
Her eyes tracked the team, soft, curious, almost sympathetic.
They were tired, dragging their feet, and she smiled. A tiny, gentle curve of her mouth, the kind that said, aww, it’s okay. And fuck me, I felt it. Like a fist around my chest.
Then, as if she felt me staring, she turned. And her gaze met mine, dead on. No folder to hide behind. No ground to stare at. Just those wide eyes, locking into mine like she wasn’t afraid for once.
I should’ve looked away. Should’ve said something sharp to cut the moment before it swallowed me whole. But I didn’t. I just stood there, locked in, as if she’d nailed me to the ground with nothing but her eyes.
I watched closely as her eyes widened a bit, seeing that I didn’t look away, but she also didn’t. Her eyes started wandering around my face.
Eye. Lips. Eye.
Fuck.
Her fucking eyes graze my lips. Out of everywhere she could look, she chose to look there. Somewhere I wished her own lips were, her whole body, actually.
I snapped myself out of it, ripping my eyes away before I made it obvious. “Shadow properly,” I muttered, harsher than I meant to. “Watch me. Or whatever.”
I didn’t wait for her to nod and skipped down the bleacher steps. Fighting the urge to turn back, I jogged over to the others instead.
She’d be here for a couple of hours. I should just focus on practice. It’s not like anything will tear her away from me.
Wrong. So fucking wrong.
About an hour in, the wind picked up, sharp and relentless.
I turned, eyes scanning instinctively, and there she was.
Her writing had slowed, the tip of her pen dragging like she couldn’t focus.
Her knees bounced, folder sliding on her lap as she curled in tighter around herself.
One arm clutched at the thin cardigan like it was a lifeline, but it wasn’t enough.
For fuck’s sake. I was moving around nonstop, body heat carrying me through, and even I felt the bite of the air. Her? She probably couldn’t even feel her fingers anymore.
I dragged my tongue across my teeth, frustrated. I could walk over, throw my jacket around her, make her take it, but no. That would be obvious. That would be soft. And I don’t do soft. Not in front of her or anyone.
But a jacket wouldn’t fix this, anyway. Not the way the wind was cutting through. So I blew the whistle, sharp and loud. “That’s it. Wrap it up, we’re done for today.”
The groans came instantly, the protests.
“It’s only been an hour!”
“Cap, we’ve got stamina to build!”
“Run extra laps tomorrow,” I snapped, cutting them down with a glare. No one argued after that.
I didn’t look at her again. Not directly. But I didn’t need to. I could feel the way her shoulders loosened, the way relief softened her edges, the way she probably thought the universe just threw her a bone.
She’d never think it was anyone else, anyway. Just the universe being kind to her, protecting her. But it’s more than that. She’d never understand how far the universe would go for her. He’d do anything, even if it got overlooked. He’d do it even if it doesn’t benefit him at all.
The others ran past me, heading inside, as I just slowly followed behind. From the corner of my eyes, I could see her jogging to catch up, hand raised in a small wave, pathetic and soft, like she couldn’t bring herself to shout. Like always.
I didn’t stop walking until we reached inside, and the warmth hit, until the glass doors closed behind us. Only then did I turn.
She was already flipping open her folder, sliding a paper free. She held it out to me with both hands, her eyes darting up then away, like she was handing me something forbidden.
I took it, my gaze skimming. A clean copy of the schedule. Shadowing from today, November 3rd, straight through until December 15th. Almost every day. Weeks. She was mine for weeks. Then I saw it. Every Friday neatly highlighted. Partner Work.
I lifted my head. “Partner work?”
She nodded immediately, pointing between us, then pressing her fingers together, slow and deliberate, close.
Something hot and ugly lit in my chest, curling through me like smoke. She didn’t even realise what she’d just handed me. She thought this was normal, harmless. To me, it was a fucking gift.
I didn’t question it. Didn’t need to. I just folded the paper, slipped it into my pocket, and nodded like it meant nothing. But inside? I was already burning with the thought of Friday.
I walked away before she could look at me again, fists balled in my pockets, nails biting into my palms. My strides were steady, casual on the outside, but inside, I was clawing at anything to drag my mind off her.
Partner work. Sitting next to her. Close. Closer than we’d ever been.
My jaw tightened.
After Monday, when I humiliated her, making her crawl through the mud in front of the campus just for a stupid key I never actually threw in there, she still chose to stick around. No survival instinct whatsoever.
Pathetic. A girl like her should’ve been eaten alive by now.
But not here. Not with me.
Good on her, really. That lack of instinct means she’d stay exactly where I wanted her. Right by my side when Friday comes.