Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
ELLA
Charity Flag Football Game
The skin of my arm sang where he touched me. Even though I'd known he'd be here and tried to prepare myself, as soon as I saw him again, the world stopped. Gravity shifted, pulling at my limbs even as a whirling tempest brewed inside.
And I'm decidedly not over him. I mentally groaned at the unfairness of it all.
For months, I'd been perfecting the art of not-thinking about Maddox McBride. It started with not-thinking about how we met, our mouths reckless, my hands clinging to his shoulders, the feel of his arms around my waist…Or how everything inside my flesh moved without prior consent of my brain.
It was a bit harder to not-think about how he'd played volunteer security detail, watching over me as I packed my stuff to move from the sorority house. Then, he helped me move into Kanami's off-campus apartment.
I took a deep breath and folded my leg to continue my stretch.
But I most certainly never thought about—anymore, anyway—how safe I felt when he'd stay over, as the height of Ash's "coping mechanisms" became some mix of drinking and stalking.
Because just when I'd thought maybe, just maybe, everything happened for a reason—and my "reason" was Maddox McBride, he chose to push me away. But not before we crossed a few "just friends" boundaries, and almost…
My skin flushed hot as a cold, sick, churning hollowed out my stomach.
No, I definitely never think about how it felt to have his rock-solid, sweat-slicked body pressed against mine. His breath hot against my ear, groaning my name as his fingers teased my aching core to, ahem, certain orgasmic heights.
I couldn't think about it because it led to remembering how he left me that night—wanton and needy, so desperate to be his.
"Maddox…"
God, I was such an idiot. And so I made sure to not-think about his apologies and how he rushed away from my apartment. And out of my life.
I rose to my feet, effecting a lunge to stretch my calves.
As months passed, clarity eventually settled in. The only thing that made any sense was that he'd just been taking pity on me. Poor, stupid, deluded Briella, practically a textbook damsel in distress. So humiliating.
But, still, his rejection felt so much worse than breaking up with Ash. Wrong. Like a Band-Aid over a wound that needed stitches to heal.
When I wasn't as good at not-thinking about Maddox, I'd considered reaching out, thanking him for his help, his friendship, at a time when I needed it—even if it had only been motivated out of pity.
I could let him know I was fine now. Wish him well.
Like a mature, responsible adult who was completely over him could do.
Which was me…definitely.
Or it was. Yesterday.
Today? Maybe not. Because seeing him again, all I could think of was how familiar he smelled. How he wore just the right amount of scruff on his jaw. How the scowl above those blue-grey eyes lent him an edgy, dangerous appeal.
And this was exactly why I’d avoided anything to do with the football team, once the rumor mill had decided I'd "broken up with Ash over Mick."
Apparently, it was OK for Ash to have an entire sorority wing of extras. I was just supposed to accept it as the price of being the quarterback’s girlfriend.
Yeah, no.
"What, did you think he was serious? About you?" Kennedy rolled her eyes. "Someone has a primo ego. Mick won’t be any different. But maybe you’ve learned a valuable lesson."
"They don’t have to choose, Bree," Cheryl taunted. "Get used to it."
A bunch of giggles erupted. I shook my head and pushed past Kennedy and the rest. But they weren’t done…
"You have to spend more time on your back, honey."
I righted myself and inhaled the crisp February air. The day couldn't decide if it was going to rain or stay a vague, grey mist. But either way, the practice field was slowly turning into mud. Cold mud. Small puddles from an earlier rain dripped through the uneven grass.
"Ugh. This weather. Why did we let Kanami talk us into this?" Liesl groaned.
"We didn't. We lost the bet fair and square," I said.
"Yeah. The eye candy's not worth it. What an asshole."
"He's not. He's just…focused." I huffed visible breaths and pulled my winter headband down over my ears. "Seager said Mick's aiming for the draft next year."
"Well, when he's rich, I'm sure someone will put up with his surly grump-itude. Especially when he looks like that." She grimaced and rolled her eyes. "But I'd rather have a golden retriever than a rottweiler."
"Here's my number." Maddox ripped a piece of paper out of a notebook and handed it to me. "If he shows up. If you need anything…”
"You didn't have to do all of this." I couldn't get my voice to rise above a whisper. "Just because of some random kiss."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "Wasn't random."
"Mmm, German shepherd. My opinion, anyway." I blew warm air into my fists. We needed to get going. I glanced at midfield.
Maddox stood with a small group, facing the referees. Seager, the freshman quarterback, looked like he had a scowl etched into every cell of his body.
I did a few jumping jacks to get my blood pumping.
"Geez, what's his problem?" One of the basketball players stretched her arms in front of her. I stopped jumping and jacking.
"He's just Seager," I said with a shrug. Beaux wasn’t a bad guy, just a bit childish. I got the impression he was used to getting his way—between his rugged good looks and his football talent. But even if he tried to hide it, the big bully was mostly full of hot air.
He'd joined the softball team's monthly service efforts at a nearby children’s program. And it didn't take long before he was wrapped so tight around a little girl’s finger, Amberine had him coloring unicorns while wearing daisies in his hair.
They were black unicorns with fiery horns, but that was Seager. Rottweiler, definitely.
The guy jabbed two fingers into Maddox's chest, steam puffing in the air between them. Cold turned Seager's cheeks a bright red, as if he'd hit maximum anger capacity and was about to boil over.
I winced as Maddox squared his shoulders. But, cold as ice, he just turned away.
Seager snarled and spit as his lineman pulled him back.
Geez. Maybe a pitbull.
Kanami arranged us into a huddle on our side of the field. It felt strange, looking at faces from other Strikers teams I didn't recognize.
"Red, need you to play wide receiver. Remember, our team can't score unless we're the ones in the endzone. So, basically, we're the offense."
"Got it."
"Um, I have a date tonight." A dark-haired girl in a basketball jersey made a face. "I'm really not digging the idea of being tackled into this mud. On Valentine's Day."
I tried not to roll my eyes.
"Whose idea was this nonsense?" Another voice chimed in.
"No tackling," Kanami said. "It's flag football. We just pull flags—"
"Tell that to the anger-gremlin screeching over there." Liesl scowled and pointed at the freshmen. "We're all gonna end up drenched and dirty."
A chorus of groans erupted from our group.
"It's just mud." Kanami rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I've got the key to the women's locker room. In case anyone needs the restroom or to change after the game."
I shook my head. But before we could break, our male teammates joined the group. Danny, the running back, grinned and winked at me. He looked "miniature" compared to Sato—who was well over six feet, to be fair. They handed out black belts with dangling neon orange flags attached.
Maddox pulled his on, twisting one way then the other. He glanced up and his eyes locked with mine.
I caught my breath as a rush of heat bathed my skin, warming every last nerve ending in my body. I couldn’t read the look on his face. Furrowed brow, stormy eyes. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn't look away.
Was he remembering…that night?