Chapter Eleven #2
As expected, the sports channel is all over the fight from last night, discussing it in detail. Reactions are…not as bad as I expected, honestly. It's pretty clear from the video that Austin reacted to protect me.
Watching his jealous little fan shriek and stalk away feeds my soul in a way that's likely to land me in hell. But you know what? Screw it. She had it coming. If being glad he hurt her feelings makes me a terrible person, I'll own it. I'd rather be an honest bitch than a bitter bitch.
I'm lost in thought when the anchor cuts to a live video feed from the presser at the stadium.
It takes me a second to register the fact that Austin is on my screen, his suit tailored to perfection, his arms crossed over his chest, and his jaw set in a line I know by heart. He's furious, but controlled, icy almost.
I sit up a little straighter, my heart in my throat, unable to stop staring. How much of that fury is because of me? Most of it, probably. He was mad as hell at me last night. I don't really blame him. I'm mad at myself.
I don't even think everyone is seated before the first question is fired at him.
"Austin, do you have any comment about the altercation at The Bandwagon last night? Do you regret what transpired?" a female reporter asks.
Austin doesn't even blink. He stares directly into the camera.
"I saw a group of grown men and women cornering and physically assaulting the love of my life.
I did what any man would do." His voice is calm and steady.
"If anyone thinks I'm going to stand by and let some grown man lay hands on her, they're mistaken. "
"Are you saying you don't regret it?" the reporter follows up, her tone incredulous, like she fully expects him to apologize and grovel. She clearly doesn't know him very well if that's what she wants. Austin is stubborn as hell, and I doubt he's ever groveled a day in his life.
"I'm saying I would do it again," he says right on cue, earning chuckles and grins from Lucas and Jasper, seated on either side of him.
"And if anyone else thinks it's okay to harass, body-shame, or lay a hand on any woman—not just mine—they should know there will be consequences.
" His gaze turns ice cold. "Serena has been mocked, bullied, and humiliated over and over since she came into my life.
Enough is enough. We will be taking legal action against anyone who continues to harass my future wife. "
Did he just—
Future wife?
I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't even think.
He just called me his future wife. On national television.
Is this real?
Is this happening right now?
"Did he just go on national television and call me his future wife?" I whisper at the television, like it's really going to answer me.
My phone rings before I can even process any of this. It's Peyton, of course.
The second I answer, she's already screaming. "You fucking got engaged and didn't tell me?" she shrieks so loud my ears ring.
"Uh…" I stutter, my mind still reeling.
"I'm so mad at you right now!" she growls. "And so happy for you."
"He told me he loves me," I blurt, glancing back at the screen. Jasper is talking now, but there's a ticker along the bottom calling me Austin's future wife.
Jesus Christ. This is real.
"Obviously. You're engaged."
"I didn't say it back," I say.
"What?"
"I didn't say it back."
"I'm so confused right now," Peyton mutters.
"He never asked me to marry him!" I cry, suddenly not sure if I want to laugh or cry or crawl through the television and strangle him before I kiss him. "He just… Oh my god. He just told the whole world we're getting married, and he never even asked me!"
Peyton is silent for a second, then cracks up, laughing so hard she wheezes. "Holy shit. He's a diabolical genius," she breathes.
"I have to go," I say, already rushing for the door. I don't even care that I'm wearing sweatpants and his hoodie. I just need to get to him. "I have to…"
"Kiss him? Kill him?"
"Yes, that."
"Tell him you love him while you're at it!" Peyton says through laughter before I hang up on her.
When I get to the stadium, security just waves me through like usual, only he does it with a grin this time instead of his usual practiced disinterest.
"Where are they?" I ask.
"Weight-room, Miss Abrams," he says. "Congratulations."
I march straight to the weight room, barging inside like I own the place. It still smells like sweat and looks like Hot Guy Mecca. But there's only one hot guy I'm interested in…their completely unhinged former Golden Boy.
"Yo, Hawkes! Your girl is here again!" Dace says, smirking at me as he uses some machine that looks like it belongs in a medieval dungeon. Or maybe a sex dungeon. Either way, I will not be using it at any point in this lifetime.
Austin is on the treadmill again, running like he's trying to outpace his own mind.
The way sweat slides down his back is so fucking sexy to me.
Clearly, there are too many pheromones in this gym because sweat should not be sexy.
And yet, here I stand, wondering if it's bad form to hit the fire alarm at a football stadium so I can see just how fast he can run while fucking me.
This time, he slams the machine to a stop before whirling to face me. His eyes lock with mine, and I'm pretty sure my heart stops beating. It's lodged in my throat, choking me.
I don't take a single breath as he saunters toward me like he isn't sure if he wants to eat me or spank me. He's still pissed. Not that I blame him or anything. He laid his heart on the line last night, and I fumbled it. Fourth quarter, seconds left on the clock, and I choked.
Yeah, he's pissed.
"Can…can we talk?" I ask, nervous is a way I've never been.
He jerks his chin in a nod, motioning toward the door.
Neither of us says anything as we step out, and it's so goddamn familiar, it's spooky.
We've been here before. We've done this before.
And just like then, we were here doing this because I couldn't walk away from him.
Even back then, I didn't want to walk away.
"I love you," I blurt as soon as the door shuts behind us. "I realized I loved you weeks ago, but I was so fucking scared that if I admitted it or let myself believe this could be real, that I'd mess it all up." Tears well in my eyes. "And then I messed it up anyway."
He doesn't say anything. He just watches me with those impossibly green eyes, his expression unreadable.
"I thought I'd be fine with never falling in love or getting married," I rasp. "I thought that's what I had to accept to keep from ruining someone's life the way my parents ruined each other's over and over. But it's not what I want."
"What do you want, Serena?"
"I want…" I pause, trying to put it into words.
"I want all of it. I want my ass on the internet because I spilled wine on you.
I want to be blackmailed into dates with you, and I want reporters to catch us making out like horny teenagers.
I want you to kiss me in front of everyone who hates me, and then I want you to fuck me until I can't remember why I ever thought they mattered in the first place.
" My voice cracks, but I keep going, barreling through the fear because if I stop now, I might never start again.
"I want you to pick fights with me over stupid shit, like who gets the remote, just so you have an excuse to kiss me.
I want you to lose your mind if I almost get fired, and then offer me a job with a ridiculous salary because you're a maniac and you can't stand the thought of not seeing me every day.
I want you to be so crazy about me that you go on national television and tell the whole world that I'm your future wife instead of asking me to marry you like a normal person. "
"Jesus," he rumbles, swallowing hard.
"You, Austin," I whisper. "I just want you. I want us."
He stands there, just breathing, like he's letting every single word settle deep in his bones. For a second, it feels like the whole world is holding its breath with him.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I should have said it last night. I should have said it days ago, weeks ago." I swallow, my hands shaking. "I don't ever want to stop saying it. I love you. I love you so damn much I can't breathe without you."
He's on me before I can process what's happening. The next thing I know, I'm off my feet, his arms locked around me as if he's remembering all the times he let me pretend this wasn't always going to end here and isn't ever going to let me pretend again.
I squeal, clutching at his neck, his body so solid and warm it wrecks me.
He doesn't say a word as he stalks down the hallway, past the equipment room, and then turns into a utility closet. He kicks the door shut behind us, the force so loud it echoes.
"Say it again," he rasps, his voice all gravel and need, his eyes burning like fire as he pins me to the door.
I can't breathe, but I force the words out anyway. "I love you."
There's a heartbeat of silence, then his mouth is on mine, his kiss hot and deep and greedy, like he's trying to swallow the memory of me not saying it last night. His hands are rough as he yanks my sweats down like he can't wait another second.
"I love you," I say, as his fingers slide inside me.
He lifts my hips and wraps my legs around his waist, groaning wildly. He doesn't bother with finesse or patience. My hoodie's bunched up under my arms, my panties barely hanging on as he fingers me, fumbling with his own shorts.
The look on his face is pure hunger. I don't even try to slow him down. I don't want him to slow down. I want him right here and now, just like this.
The head of his cock nudges against me, and then he pushes inside in a single, brutal stroke that makes me cry out. My back slams against the door, but it feels so damn good.
He just keeps going, filling me so completely I feel him everywhere.
"Again," he demands, his voice a growl.
"I love you," I gasp. I do. I love him so much it's terrifying. It's all the things I never let myself dream I could have, wrapped up in three little words that somehow feel like they're wrecking and saving me at the same damn time.
His hand comes up to my throat, not quite squeezing, just holding me there so I can't look away from him as he fucks me hard and deep. My head thumps against the closet door with every thrust.
He drops his forehead to mine. "You're mine, Serena."
"Always," I whisper. It's not a promise. It's surrender—to him, to this, to us.
He fucks me like he's trying to repair every broken thing inside me, slamming into me so hard the mop buckets clatter on their racks, and paint cans rattle on the shelf.
His hand never leaves my throat, not really. Sometimes his palm slides up to cradle my jaw, sometimes it drops down to hook my knee higher, but always he's holding on, as if he's afraid I'll vanish if he lets go.
I can barely breathe, but I don't want to. I don't want anything but him, breaking me open and putting me back together at the same time.
He keeps his eyes locked on mine, greedy, unblinking, like he's trying to memorize every second.
I don't even realize I'm crying until he wipes a tear from my cheek. I'm not sad, though. I'm whole in a way I didn't know was possible.
He fucks me until my voice breaks and my body goes limp, so wrung out that he's the only thing holding me up. Even then, he keeps going, refusing to relent until I come apart again, sobbing into his neck from the sheer force of it.
When he finally lets go, he bites my shoulder to keep from shouting, shudders wracking his whole body. He buries his face in my hair, his breath hot and frantic against my ear.
"I love you," I whisper one more time.
"I already knew you did," he breathes. "You told me in your sleep."
"Really?"
He nods, his head bumping mine. "I was going fucking crazy, waiting for you to say it when you were conscious."
Guilt pricks at me. "I should have said it back last night."
He tips my head back, meeting my gaze, his expression soft and somber. "No regrets, baby. I don't have any."
"None?"
"None."
"Not even not asking me to marry you before you told the whole world that I'm your future wife?"
His lips curve into my favorite panty-melting smirk before he kisses me again. "I was hedged my bets."
I melt against him, my body shaking with laughter. "You're an absolute menace."
"Yeah, but I'm your menace."
I smile against his shoulder, my heart light and full in a way it's never been. "Yeah," I whisper, burrowing into him. "You are."