He says nothing to me. Instead, he sits directly across from me, close enough that our knees almost touch under the table.
And when I finally find the courage to look at him, he’s already staring at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
His eyes are dark, menacing, possessive.
He doesn’t look away. Not for a second.
And I know, with absolute certainty, that this is going to be a very long night.
9
Chapter 9
The bar is getting louder, more crowded. Someone orders another round of drinks, and the table erupts in cheers.
“That goal in the second period was insane,” Marcus says, gesturing wildly with his beer. “I mean, you completely destroyed their defense, Dev.”
Devlin shrugs. “Team effort.”
“Don’t be modest,” another player—Jake, I think—laughs. “You skated circles around them.”
Lizzy leans into Marcus, her face flushed and happy. “Are you guys nervous about the game next week? I heard the other team is really good.”
“We’re better,” Jake says confidently.
The conversation flows around me. I don’t participate, just smile when appropriate and take small sips of my drink. Acrossfrom me, Devlin speaks only twice—brief, clipped responses when someone addresses him directly.
But he never stops staring at me.
“Did you guys hear about another biker incident?” one of the girls asks—Sarah. “That makes two in the last ten days.”
“Yeah, campus security sent out another alert,” Liz says, her expression sobering. “They’re saying groups of three or four guys on motorcycles, harassing students near the east side apartments.”
“That’s where Val’s building is,” Marcus points out, and suddenly everyone’s looking at me.
“I’m careful,” I say automatically. “I don’t walk alone at night.”
Devlin’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
The conversation shifts to other topics—midterms, spring break plans, someone’s upcoming birthday party. But I can barely focus.
The tension radiating from Devlin is suffocating, making it hard to breathe. And I’m dealing with my own inner conflict, this constant war between wanting him and hating myself for wanting him.
I also realize he’s angry with me, though I don’t understand why. Because I left the game early? Because I’m here now, surrounded by his teammates?
I can’t take it anymore.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, standing up. “Bathroom.”
Nobody really notices except Lizzy, who gives me a concerned look. And Devlin, whose eyes track my movement across the bar.
The bathroom is a blessed relief— empty, a moment to breathe. I lean against the sink and stare at my reflection. My face is flushed, my eyes too bright. I look like someone on the edge of falling apart.
I can’t go back out there. I can’t sit across from Devlin for another hour, feeling his eyes on me, drowning in confusion and want and anger.
I pull out my phone and text Liz:Not feeling well. Heading home. Sorry. Have fun! x
Then I slip out of the bathroom, keeping my head down as I navigate through the crowd toward the exit. I don’t look back at our table.
