Off-Side (Hillview University Titans #2)

Prologue

DEREK

“He literally grabbed him,” Max shouted at the referee after Liam was grabbed by his shirt and pushed away with force by the opposing team.

This wasn’t football; it wasn’t supposed to happen, and all of us were pissed off, especially since this was one of the most important games against our arch-nemesis, the Lions. “Just look at the recording!”

“No, it wasn’t a fault,” the referee replied calmly with a dismissive hand motion. “If you say one more thing to me, you will get a yellow card.”

Ander Sanchez, the Lion's captain, snickered as Maddox and I lined up behind our captain, Max, ready to jump into a fight if needed. Edwins, the right winger of the Lions, was behind Sanchez, waiting for the fight to break out. His eyes burned with hatred.

We all could feel the tension mounting since the beginning of the game, and it was a matter of minutes until the fight broke apart.

Max couldn’t lose himself, not with the National Team coach watching and waiting for him to slip up.

Not when his career was on the line. But Maddox, our other midfielder, and I had no outside pressure to keep calm.

We could easily jump in and fight this for our team if that meant securing the victory.

“Whatever,” Max muttered, turning away and clearly giving up.

I reached for his shoulder, offering him silent consolation before forcing us all to focus on the matter at hand. The Game.

It was the semi-finals of the Championship, and we were fighting the Lions of Westpoint University.

“That’s okay, Aarons. There is no shame in being a loser… or dating one.” Sanchez inserted, provoking our captain.

Max took a deep breath and forced his body to keep walking; his eyes fixed on the grass in front of him.

I knew he had grown to care about Ivy, Sanchez’s ex, and Max’s fake date or real date.

I couldn’t really keep up with what they were, but it took everything in him to not react.

The only sign of him hearing the words was his clenched fist.

But just because he couldn’t react didn’t mean I wouldn't. I had nothing to lose. I was a great striker and an asset to the team, but I had no faults and nothing to really provoke the referee into pulling me out of the game. I could get away with it.

“I would be more concerned about your girlfriend, Edwins,” I jumped in, removing the attention from Max and putting myself in the spotlight.

I loved attention, but standing in the crossfire of death glares wasn’t my favorite.

“You know she booty-called me a couple of weeks ago when she was supposed to be yours?”

I watched his gaze darken, and a murderous expression took over his ugly face. I grinned harder.

“I fucked her,” I added with a cocky grin. “She came all over my dick, screaming my name. So, I guess you guys need to ask yourselves why all your girls prefer us over you. I mean... It’s a no-brainer, really.”

Max pulled me by the back of my shirt, clearly worried about the aggressive glances I was receiving. “Come on, let’s get back to the game.”

“You’re dead,” Edwins growled, and I flat out laughed.

Such a shitty, unoriginal threat. But then again, I wasn't expecting much from him. Not when he couldn't even keep a fangirl to himself, and his girl was booty calling me.

Ridiculous.

“Let’s change to defense,” Max muttered to our team, his worried gaze fixed upon me. “You will need some people around you. Aaron, Hudson, Maverick?” He called on our best defensive players and pointed toward their position, signaling the change in formation.

With the score being 0-0 we didn't have much time. All we needed to do was make sure I was in position to score and that I was safe from the dirty players.

“If any of us has the opening to shoot on the goal, go for it. We need to score.”

Both Maddox and Oliver nodded, and the game resumed at a more intense and faster pace. The Lions were growing impatient and aggressive, especially with their previous offenses going unnoticed by the referee.

My heart rate peaked as I pushed myself past my limits. We were closing in on their goalpost, pushing them back inch by inch. Within minutes, we were all in a position where if we got the ball, we could potentially shoot.

The defenders passed the ball between them, giving it to Oliver, who moved it to Maddox, and it finally landed with Max.

The Lions’ defenders were circling him. He only had seconds to break away from them, but no matter what trick he pulled with the ball, there was always someone around him.

He pivoted over and over until he found a small break in their line and passed the ball smoothly to me as I positioned to shoot at the goal.

I caught the ball with my left foot and immediately lifted my right one to shoot.

I felt the defenders move toward me, their anger and impatience rolling off them in waves. From the corner of my eye, both Max and Maddox, the two midfielders, moved in closer in case I wanted to pass them the ball once I freed up.

I didn't want to do that. I needed to score and give our team at least a slight advantage.

My eyes focused on the goal, and I picked the exact spot where I wanted the ball to land as I lifted my foot and put all my force into it, ready to send it flying.

But as my foot connected with the ball, pain exploded in my left knee. I buckled and fell onto the damp grass.

The agony tore up from my knee all over my left leg, and I clutched it as shouts echoed around me.

It took me a second of rolling on the grass, watching my teammates surround me, to realize the shouts were coming from me.

In the background, Sanchez took a couple of steps back, his hands lifted in an innocent motion as the referee approached. Then darkness claimed me, putting me out of my misery.

ROSALIE

8 months ago - January

The hospital hallway smelled like disinfectant and sadness.

I clutched the Tupperware container against my chest, second-guessing this entire plan.

The cupcakes inside weren't even that good; the frosting was too thick, and the tops were slightly lopsided.

But Nova had mentioned Derek was refusing visitors, barely eating, and spiraling into a depression that scared everyone.

And I knew exactly what that felt like.

“You sure about this?” Aaron asked, hovering protectively beside me. “He's been pretty rough with everyone.”

“I'm sure.” I wasn't. But I also couldn't stop thinking about the way Derek had screamed when his knee gave out. The way the entire stadium had gone silent. The way I'd felt my own hip ache in sympathy.

Aaron knocked, and a muffled “go away” came from inside.

My brother glanced at me, but I was already pushing the door open.

Derek sat propped up in the hospital bed, his left leg elevated and wrapped in enough bandages to supply a small pharmacy.

His usually perfect hair stuck up in every direction, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.

He looked small in the oversized hospital gown, nothing like the cocky striker who commanded attention on the field.

“I said go...” He stopped when he saw me, confusion replacing the anger on his face. “Rosalie?”

“Hi.” I lifted the Tupperware like a peace offering. “I brought cupcakes.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“I didn't ask if you were hungry. I said I brought cupcakes.” I set them on the rolling table beside his bed and pulled up a chair, ignoring Aaron's surprised expression.

“Chocolate with vanilla frosting. They're not great, the frosting's too thick, and I think I overbaked them, but they're edible.”

Derek stared at me like I'd sprouted a second head. “Why are you here?”

“Because everyone else is tiptoeing around you like you're dying, and that must be exhausting.” I peeled open the container. “And because I know what it's like.”

“What's what like?”

“Losing the thing you love most.” I met his eyes. “Having your body betray you. Wondering if you'll ever be yourself again.”

Something shifted in his expression. The defensive walls didn't crumble, but they cracked. Just a little.

“You had an injury,” he said quietly. Not a question.

“Hip replacement. At seventeen.” I picked up a cupcake and held it out to him. “I was supposed to audition for companies this year. Instead, I’m going to university and acting like everything’s fine.”

Derek took the cupcake, his fingers brushing mine. “Are you? Fine?”

“Some days.” I grabbed one for myself. “Other days, I want to scream. Or cry. Or both.”

“Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Yeah, I get that.”

We ate in silence for a moment. Aaron had disappeared at some point, probably to give us privacy. The only sounds were the beeping of monitors and the distant chatter of nurses in the hallway.

“The frosting really is too thick,” Derek said finally, but there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I warned you.”

“Still better than hospital food.” He set the half-eaten cupcake aside. “Why aren't you out with your friends or at a party, or doing literally anything else on a Friday night?”

I shrugged. “Because I remember what it was like right after my surgery. Everyone either avoided me because they didn't know what to say, or they hovered and treated me like I was made of glass. Both sucked.”

“So you're here to... what? Not treat me like I'm made of glass?”

“I'm here to eat mediocre cupcakes with you and acknowledge that this whole situation is shit.” I leaned back in the chair. “No inspirational speeches. No 'everything happens for a reason' bullshit. Just... this sucks, and I'm sorry it happened to you.”

Derek's jaw worked, and for a second I thought he might cry. But he just nodded, his throat moving as he swallowed hard.

“It does suck,” he said roughly. “It really fucking sucks.”

“I know.”

We sat there until the cupcakes were gone and visiting hours were over. We didn't talk much more; we didn't need to. Sometimes just having someone who understood was enough.

As I stood to leave, Derek caught my wrist.

“Rosalie?”

“Yeah?”