The Heart Breaker (Colton U Playbook #4)

1. Cole

COLE

They say there’s a thin line between love and hate.

I call fucking bullshit.

Anyone who believes that has never met Aurora Prescott. If there’s a line, it’s miles wide and on fire.

There’s nothing complicated about what I feel for her. Not even close. It’s pure and raw, a burning, relentless certainty that’s lived in my veins for years.

And because the universe is apparently in the mood to fuck with me, my attention snags on the door the second she steps inside.

My grip tightens around the plastic cup, my body tensing up.

I shouldn’t even be here. If any of the frat guys who live here recognize me, they’ll toss me out before I can finish this beer.

I broke someone’s nose last semester—one time—and now I’m “bad for their image.” There’s a freshman in the kitchen right now, drunk off his ass, throwing up in the sink, but sure, I’m the problem.

I needed to get out. Needed a break from my own head, and since everyone was here, I decided to come too.

Figured I’d grab a drink, maybe two. Maybe even find someone willing to distract me for a couple hours.

But the second I walked in, I realized it wouldn’t work.

It never does. The noise is still there, gnawing at the back of my skull, and nothing in this place is loud enough to drown it out.

I drag my gaze away and act like I don’t notice her stepping inside.

But I do. Every fucking detail.

Aurora is tall as hell—five-eleven, only a few inches shorter than my six-five.

She moves through the crowd in a short dress that shows off those endless legs, her blonde hair falling down her back as she tosses it over one shoulder and turns to look at something behind her.

Even from here, I catch those sharp, cold blue eyes.

That familiar knot in my gut twists, already bracing for whatever fresh hell she’s about to bring with her. It’s bad enough that she’s here—that she somehow always ends up exactly where I least want her—but then I realize she’s not alone.

My gaze catches on Chase coming in right behind her, his hand sliding to her waist before he ducks his head and kisses his girlfriend.

Chase Johnson. Westbrook’s golden boy. Star forward of the Falcons. The smug prick everyone acts like walks on water, and the same bastard I’ve wanted to lay out since before I could legally drink.

And Aurora brought him here to a Colton U party.

Unbelievable.

The back of my throat burns as I watch them move through the party. Part of me wonders if she did this on purpose. It wouldn’t surprise me if she got a kick out of dragging the enemy straight into our house.

I watch them weave through the crowd, Chase stuck to her side, but he barely makes it two steps before his attention wanders toward some girl near the kitchen, his gaze dragging down her body like Aurora’s not even there, and he throws the girl a cocky smirk.

I let out a disgusted scoff and lean back against the wall, lifting the cup to my mouth for another sip. I don’t know what she was thinking, bringing her boyfriend to a Wolves party. She’s either clueless or asking for trouble.

Knowing Aurora, it’s probably the second one.

What I do know is that I’m about two seconds away from making a mistake. Saying something. Starting something. Anything to wipe that smug look off Chase’s face.

I watch Chase make his way over to the beer pong table and start talking to a few of the guys from the Colton U hockey team.

I don’t know if he expected a warm welcome or if he’s arrogant enough to think they’d forget what a dirty piece of shit he is on the ice, but if looks could kill, he’d already be face-first on the floor.

Still, none of them look quite as ready to swing as I do.

From the second he walked in, my fists have been itching for a fight I know I can’t actually have. I already caught shit from Coach for losing my temper once this season. One more screw-up and my ass is riding the bench.

Not that it does a damn thing to kill the urge.

Chase laughs and pulls Aurora in closer, staking his claim.

Maybe that’s smart. Half the room would sell a kidney for a shot with her.

All they see is that blonde hair, those long legs, and the way that tiny dress clings to every inch of her body.

They don’t know her the way I do. Don’t know she’s all venom under that pretty packaging.

They turn and head deeper into the room, and as they pass, Chase gives the blonde another slow once-over, his gaze dragging over her body while his hand stays planted on Aurora’s waist. The girl smirks right back, not giving a shit that his girlfriend is standing right there.

I scoff and take a long pull from my beer as they walk past me without so much as a glance, like I’m not even there. Like none of it ever happened. Like they didn’t torch my life years ago and walk away without looking back.

My jaw goes tight, the muscle ticking the way it always does when she’s anywhere in sight. I crush the empty cup in my hand, letting the plastic fall by my feet.

I shove off the wall and cut through the crowd, shouldering past sweaty strangers because all I want is another drink. Something stronger. Something that might take the edge off the irritation winding tighter every time I look at her.

I never used to drink like this before Aurora showed up at Colton U. Now I can’t seem to make it through an hour with her in the room without reaching for something cheap and strong, hoping it’ll burn off some of the anger.

The vodka on the table smells cheap, but I pour a double anyway and let it burn on the way down. But apparently the universe still isn’t done fucking with me, because the second I turn to leave, she’s right there, cutting a path straight for the drink table.

In those heels, she’s damn near eye level, and her eyes narrow the second she spots me, her red mouth pressing into a hard line.

“Great,” she says with a sigh, rolling her eyes as she stops beside me. She doesn’t even look my way, just grabs a plastic cup and starts filling it with punch. “Didn’t expect to see you leave whatever dark corner you usually haunt.”

I take a slow sip of my drink, watching her over the rim. “Didn’t expect you to drag Westbrook trash into a Wolves party.”

Her eyes snap up, that sharp blue stare cutting straight into me. “Chase isn’t trash.”

A short laugh slips out. “Really?” I tip my chin toward the corner. “Because your boyfriend’s been eye-fucking that blonde all night.” My eyes narrow. “But sure. Great taste, Prescott. You always did know how to pick ’em.”

She goes still, her cup hovering halfway to her mouth, eyes narrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I shift and let my gaze drift back to Chase.

He’s already halfway into a conversation with the girl, like Aurora barely exists.

It’s almost impressive how fast he works.

“Pretty sure I do,” I say, tipping my chin in their direction before I look back at her.

“And if you’re honest with yourself, you do too. ”

For a second, she tries to act like she doesn’t care, but then she glances over her shoulder, just long enough to catch Chase with his hand on the girl’s arm, leaning in too close, and her shoulders go tight.

She doesn’t say anything, but I catch the way her brows pull together. For half a second, something almost like guilt pricks at me.

Almost.

Then I remember exactly who I’m talking to.

I lean in. “Can’t wait to see how long it takes you to figure out he’s not the guy you think he is.”

Her head snaps back around, a scowl already in place. “God, you’re such a dick.”

I shrug. “At least I’m not blind.” I tip my chin toward Chase, still laying it on thick across the room. “I’ve played against him, Prescott. I know exactly what kind of guy he is. He plays dirty on the ice and dirtier off it.”

I take a slow sip, keeping my eyes on her as her breathing picks up. “But go ahead. Keep pretending he’s some stand-up guy if that helps you sleep at night.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at me, her chest rising a little too fast. My grip tightens on the cup when my eyes—traitorous bastards—drop to where her top pulls tight across her chest for half a second before I drag them back up.

She arches a brow, that vicious mouth curving into a smirk, always so quick to put on a show even when her eyes are giving her away. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Reaper.”

The nickname hits like a strike to the ribs, but I let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Jealous?” I tip my head, looking her over.

“Trust me, Viper, I’m not interested in anything Chase Johnson’s already had his hands on.

” I lower the cup and hold her stare. “I’m warning you. What you do with that is your problem.”

She crosses her arms, lifting her chin. “You really think I want your opinion on my love life?”

I let out a short, disgusted scoff. “I thought you had enough self-respect not to stand here defending a guy who’s making a fool out of you in front of the whole room.”

She goes still, and for a second the mask slips, her brows pulling together.

“You lose that viper bite whenever you’re around him. You know that?” I hold her stare. “It’s fucking pathetic to watch. Didn’t think you were that desperate.”

She opens her mouth, but for once, nothing comes out.

For a second, the fight slips out of her face and those blue eyes lose some of their anger, and something else flashes there instead.

She wants to act like my opinion doesn’t mean shit, like Chase hung the moon and I’m just another asshole looking to start something. But her eyes give her away.

She knows I’m right.

And she hates that I’m the one saying it.

Her scent hits me a second later, making my jaw tighten. Vanilla and smoke. Too sweet, too sharp, and suddenly all I can breathe.

I realize I’m still staring, caught on that crack in her armor, when my phone buzzes and snaps me out of it. I tear my eyes away, dig it out of my pocket, and glance at the screen.

My stomach drops instantly.

I lock my phone and shove it back into my pocket, then finish the rest of my drink.

Then I shoulder past her and push through the crowd toward the front door. Cold air hits me the second I step outside, stripping the last of her perfume from my lungs and clearing my head faster than the vodka ever could. I shove my hands into my pockets and keep walking.

If she wants to stand there defending Westbrook’s golden boy, that’s on her.

I’ve got bigger shit to deal with than Aurora Prescott.

God knows she’s already cost me enough.