“Look, there’s Brad!” Melissa points to a hulking figure in black and yellow padding who resembles a refrigerator with legs. “He’s been on fire today.”
“I hope not literally. Polyester is highly flammable,” I mutter. “I should know. Get too close to the grill, and your uniform is toast.”
Melissa either doesn’t hear me, or decides she doesn’t want to encourage my new brand of weird.
My phone remains silent. I’ve tried three different approaches with Kai now, and nothing’s worked. If I could just get my hands on that video, I’d have my own leverage on Bastian.
But Kai’s determined to take gold in the Hard to Get Olympics, apparently.
I glance back at Bastian, who’s still watching me like I’m a particularly interesting lab specimen. He lifts his coffee cup in a mocking toast.
Below, on the field, the referee blows a whistle. Players begin jogging toward the sidelines, their shoulder pads making them look like action figures come to life.
“End of the first quarter,” Melissa explains when she sees my confusion.
A squad of cheerleaders in skimpy black and yellow uniforms cartwheel onto the field, sleek ponytails bouncing. Bet none of them have professors who’ve drugged and assaulted them. Or childhood best friends who filmed it happening.
I also doubt any of them have fantasized about burning this place to the ground and dancing in the ashes.
They’re too busy practicing spirit fingers.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and for a second, I think it’s Kai finally growing a conscience. But the screen shows ‘UNKNOWN NUMBER’
I hesitate, then answer with a cautious, “Hello?”
“Every sip from that cup is eradicating hundreds of brain cells,” Bastian’s deep voice purrs into my ear.
I cut my gaze across the field, catching him staring at me with such intensity, it feels like a physical touch. He holds the stare for a second before turning away.
Guess he doesn’t want to make it obvious who he’s talking to, in case one of the faculty members around eavesdrop.
“Are you seriously watching me—” I cut off when Melissa’s head turns my way, a tiny frown between her brows.
She shrugs like she’s asking who’s calling, but I say nothing, grabbing her cup from her instead. I take a long, slow sip through the straw, so the slurping is extra obnoxious.
Bastian had his back turned. But he glances at me over his shoulder and then slowly turns to face me across the distance like we’re standing right in front of each other.
“Sorry, couldn’t hear you,” I say into the phone, my voice husky from the strong booze. “Too busy culling the herd.”
I end the call with a stab of my shaking thumb.
Damn, it’s getting cold.
Even at a distance, I can see his mouth turning up at the corners with a rueful smile.
I have to force myself to look away.
Maybe I don’t have any common sense left at all. How else can I explain the urge to text him to meet me somewhere discrete so?—
So what, Haven?
Kai stands, the guys on either side of him following suit. They follow him to the aisle, and all three head down toward the food trucks. This stadium only has one confection stand that sells hotdogs, drinks, and snacks, but the food trucks nearing the parking lot make up for it.
People are swarming towards the area to stock up before the rest of the game. When I came in, I thought I’d see Milo’s truck, but either he wasn’t invited or decided it wasn’t worth his while.
Don’t see why—looks like they’re making a killing.
“Hungry?” Melissa asks, probably mistaking my frown.
