I bite the inside of my cheek, praying no one saw me check it. My dad is somewhere in this house. He could walk by at any second, and what then? What would he say if he saw the captain of his team sending his daughter messages like this?
The thought should terrify me. Instead it makes my stomach flip and tighten with something far more dangerous.
I type back with trembling thumbs, quick and frantic.
Stop. Someone will see.
The reply comes instantly, like he’s been waiting.
I want them to. I want them to know you’re mine.
A shiver races down my spine, so sharp it nearly buckles my knees. I grip the edge of a table, nails digging into the wood, pretending I’m just steadying myself from the push of the crowd.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can feel is his words slipping under my skin like hooks, pulling, dragging, leaving me raw.
Across the room, someone laughs too loud. The vampire boy; the one who asked me to dance. He’s talking with a group of teammates, beer in one hand, gesturing with the other. My stomach twists when his eyes cut back to me.
Please, no. Don’t.
He pushes away from his group, heading toward me again. His smirk says he didn’t take my rejection seriously.
And I know. I know without even turning my head that Triston sees it too.
My phone buzzes so hard it jolts against my thigh.
If he touches you, I’ll break him in front of everyone.
My breath hitches. He means it. I know he does.
The vampire boy steps closer, voice slurring with drink. “Come on, princess. One dance won’t kill you.”
My mouth goes dry. I shake my head, backing toward the wall. “I said no.”
He grins wider, reaching out, but I jerk away before his fingers can brush mine.
“Back off.” I snap, louder this time. People nearby glance over, eyebrows raised.
The boy laughs it off, lifting his hands like he’s innocent, then stumbles back into the crowd.
But I can feel the storm building.
I can feel him.
My phone buzzes again, and this time I don’t even need to read it to know the fury inside. My heart hammers as I slip through the crowd, desperate for air.
I push through a doorway into the quieter hall, shadows swallowing me whole. The thump of music dulls, leaving only the sound of my own ragged breathing.
I pull out my phone.
You handled him. Good girl. But don’t ever let another man near you again.
My knees nearly buckle. I sag against the wall, staring at the words, heat flooding every inch of me. I should be terrified. I should delete it. I should run back into the noise, into the safety of numbers, into my father’s line of sight.
Instead, I whisper, “God help me,” and type back.
You’re scaring me.
Another buzz.
