27. Ella
Twenty Seven
Ella
Even though spring had only just begun, the hard courts radiated heat like a second sun, shimmering in waves that blurred the white lines if you stared at them for too long.
My shoes squeaked against the gritty blue surface as I sprinted to the baseline for yet another suicide drill.
“Last one!” Coach’s voice cracked like a whip from the far court, and a chorus of groans rolled through the team.
I bent, touched the line, pivoted, and exploded back. My legs burned, lungs clawed for air, ponytail slapping my neck. When I finally crossed the baseline, I bent over, braced my hands on my knees, and sucked in air like I’d just run from a serial killer.
“Ella, quit pretending you’re dying,” Brianna teased, pulling her visor low as she straightened from her own sprint. “Your stamina’s better than mine, and I actually did cardio this summer.”
“Yeah,” Ashley chimed in, flopping onto her back near the fence. “And speaking of stamina …” She wiggled her brows. “Somebody’s been glowing lately.”
I squinted against the sun. “Glowing? That’s just fucking sweat. Thanks.”
Brianna snorted. “Please. You’ve had a stupid little smile on your face all week. You’re not fooling anybody.”
“It’s called serotonin,” I said flatly, grabbing my water bottle.
“Uh-huh. Serotonin from what, though?” Ashley rolled onto her side, grinning like a cat. “From getting that—”
“Stop.” I unscrewed my bottle cap a little too aggressively.
“—dick,” she finished anyway, drawing out the word like a victory serve.
A couple of girls nearby burst out laughing. Even Coach, way down on Court Three, glanced over like he knew we were up to something.
I tugged my ponytail loose and wound a strand tight around my finger, pretending it was just habit and not an excuse not to answer.
“No comment,” I muttered, chugging water like it could wash away my embarrassment.
“Oh, come on,” Brianna said, collapsing onto the bench next to me. “You really expect us to believe you live with that hunk and nothing’s going on?”
My heart lurched so hard I nearly choked on my sip. “Excuse me?”
She smirked, all sharp teeth and evil delight. “Please. Half the campus knows. Big football dude, total smoke show, and you’re shacked up like some college rom-com? Either you’re lying, or you’ve achieved god-tier self-control.”
Ashley cackled. “God-tier? More like why-tier? Girl, if I had that walking testosterone commercial in the next room, you wouldn’t see me for a week. I’d come back needing physical therapy.”
Laughter exploded from the bench, and I wished the ground — or rather, the scuffed blue court — would swallow me whole.
“Not everything is about sex,” I said primly, as if I hadn’t been contemplating getting my back blown out after this during the entire practice, and tossed my empty bottle into the bin.
“Sure,” Brianna said sweetly. “And I’m joining a convent after nationals.”
“Whatever.” I grabbed my racket and headed for the next drill like my life depended on it.
Not because I couldn’t wait to hear about my sloppy backhand, but because I had no clue what to say if someone asked about Hunter again.
What were we?
I couldn’t even stick a label on it in my own head, and somehow that made it worse.
Hunter had never spelled it out.
Sweat rolled down my back as I stuffed my racket into my bag before chugging the rest of my electrolytes.
Why the fuck did I have to pick a sport with so much running involved?
Digging out my phone out of the depths of my bag, I checked my messages.
Hunter: You done?
This was boyfriend behavior, right?
Ella: Wrapping up now.
Hunter: Good. I’m waiting.
Ella: You could’ve told me before. I was dealing with the existential dread of having to walk home.
Hunter: Didn’t feel like it.
Ella: You’re infuriating.
Hunter: And you’re still texting instead of coming out.
After two hours of running suicides under a sun intent on doing me in, the air was cooler than it had any right to be.
My damp ponytail was plastered to the back of my neck as I crossed the parking lot, my phone buzzing in my hand.
Hunter: Where are you?
Ella: Walking out.
Hunter: Hurry up.
I rolled my eyes but picked up the pace nonetheless.
Hunter’s matte black truck sat rumbling in the lot. He was inside, his forearm draped over the steering wheel, expression unreadable. I tugged the door open and climbed in, my body already relaxing into the leather seat like it knew where it belonged.
“Hey.” My voice sounded casual, like I hadn’t spent the last hour with girls side-eyeing me and asking if Hunter’s stamina extended off the field .
He glanced over, a muscle in his jaw twitching once before his eyes dragged over me — sweaty tank top, skirt, all of it — like a slow inventory. “Hey.”
I swallowed and pulled my phone out again, holding it like a shield. “Well, umm … practice was fun. People are kind of starting to ask questions.”
“So?”
I shot him a look. “ So , I don’t know what to tell them.”
“Tell them the truth.”
My fingers tightened around my phone. “And what exactly would that be, Robot Boy?”
His eyes flicked to mine, something sharp and unbothered in them all at once. “You live with me. You sleep in my bed. You’re mine. Sounds pretty simple to me.”
Heat shot through me so fast it was almost dizzying, and not just because of how casually he uttered those words, like it wasn’t an insane comment to make.
“Still not an actual label,” I managed to choke out, my heart racing.
“Didn’t know we needed one.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, veins standing out like tension given form.
“It’s called communication .”
“It’s called not leaving .”
I blinked at him. “That’s not creepy at all.”
His mouth tipped, not into a smile but something darker, and he shrugged with one shoulder. “Wasn’t supposed to sound sweet.”
My pulse spiked, and it definitely wasn’t fear making it race.
His gray eyes locked onto mine, and I could feel the heat simmering beneath the surface. It was something fierce and unyielding, and it made my breath stall.
I wanted to say something, anything, when he suddenly leaned closer, one brow arched.
“You want another truth?” His voice dropped to a rough, gravelly pitch, making it sound like he was stating a fact rather than asking a question.
I frowned. “ Another truth?”
Hunter smirked. “You never dated anyone else in college, right?”
I scoffed. “Yeah, thanks for pointing out the obvious, Robot Boy. Way to make a girl feel wanted.”
“You ever wonder why?”
“Why?” I echoed dumbly.
He leaned back slightly, casual, but every inch still radiated danger. “Do you even know how many motherfuckers I had to deal with to get here?”
I choked on my laughter. “What do you mean—”
“Texts deleted,” he said, ticking off fingers. “Face-to-face warnings. One guy actually tried to show up at your match. Didn’t know I was already there in the stands. Some were polite. Some … not so much.”
I nearly lost it. “You threatened people?!”
“Absolutely,” he said, like he was shrugging off a mild inconvenience. His eyes gleamed, and he leaned in just a fraction closer. “I’ve known you’re mine from day fucking one, Ella. Only mine. And yes, I consider all that work an efficient use of my time .”
I laughed so hard my sides ached, nearly smacking the dashboard. “You are insane. This is insane. You—ugh—I can’t even—”
“And yet,” he added, his eyes darkening just slightly, “here you are. I’d say this worked out quite well for me. But go ahead, tell me I’m wrong.”
My laugh came to an abrupt and uneven halt.
“Why would you even want me, Hunter?” The words were out before I could contain them. “You don’t even know me. Not really. You don’t know the things people said about me. What they called me. What I … what I let them say.”
My chest tightened, and the air refused to fill my lungs properly. “You don’t know—”
“I know everything there is to know about you,” he cut in calmly, like it was the simplest truth in the world.
Again, my lungs seized. “Everything?”
“ Everything ,” Hunter replied, with no hesitation.
“I know the names they called you. I found the posts. I pulled the group chats. Screenshots, archived comments, texts people thought were private … I read them all. I know who fed the rumor mill and how hard they pushed. The weight you carried when you walked into rooms that felt like cages. The parts you think make you unlovable.” His jaw flexed. “And I know they were wrong .”
A wave of heat flushed through me as I suddenly grasped the depth and impossible scope of his observation. My stomach twisted, and I felt panic rising like bile.
“So you really saw all of it.” My voice cracked. “Then you must think I’m …” I couldn’t bring myself to say the rest.
What did he think of me now?
His hand closed over mine on my thigh, grounding me before the spiral could swallow me whole.
“No,” he said, low and certain. “I knew all along, and the only thing I have to say about it is this—”
His glare took on a lethal edge, making my heart stutter.
“No one will ever dare treat you this way again. If anyone tries to shame you, gossip about you, or belittle you, I’ll take them apart.
I’ll shred their stories, expose their hypocrisy, burn their good names until the people who smiled with them stop answering their texts.
I’ll ruin their comfortable little lives so hard they wish they’d never spoken.
If words don’t stop them, I’ll make sure their choices come with consequences that’ll follow them forever. ”
Those words should have terrified me. Instead, they wrapped around me like armor, sharp and impenetrable.
The panic was still lingering, but underneath, there was a strange sense of safety I hadn’t dared to even imagine.
“You actually mean it?” I asked, feeling both hopeful and anxious.
“Every. Fucking. Word.” His jaw was tight, but an air of quiet certainty surrounded him. “Try me.”
I shook my head slowly, biting my lips to keep from smiling. “You are insane.”