A smile tugs at my lips, seeing his midfielder mode activated.
Nico isn’t playing pretty; he’s playing angry, and every touch is aggressive. I quickly recover, pushing off the ground and drifting wide, waiting for him to pass it my way. He doesn’t; instead, Nico keeps the ball close, weaving through invisible defenders. I cut across his path, trying to intercept, only for him to feel itcoming, shielding the ball with his hip before he spins, dragging it behind him with the inside of his foot.
I lunge—toe out and fast—poking the ball free.
We both watch it skitter across the crunchy grass, and I chase it down. Trapping it with my right foot, I flick it up with the tip of my shoe. Nico’s already on me, breath hot, small clouds leaving our mouths as I volley it forward with the outside of my foot, moving quickly past him.
It doesn’t take Nico long to catch up; we collide shoulder to shoulder, both of us slipping on the frost. I lose control of the ball, and Nico successfully steals it with a clean tap and then drives it forward. Cutting left, then right, the ball and him moving in sync as if it’s glued to his foot.
The asshole is attacking now.
I drop back, tracking his movement. He swings his leg back, ready to shoot towards the goal. That’s when I slide, just enough to know the line of the ball, my foot connecting with the frozen ground, sending a shock up my leg. Nico stumbles, catching himself and laughing breathlessly.
“Gotta play harder than that to beat me,” he teases.
I flip him off, and once again, we go after it. Of course, Nico gets there first, tapping the ball lightly, then he cuts sharply to the right. I follow, slipping again because fuck these shoes. Before I hit the ground, I catch myself with a hand, and he slows. I let myself fall, and the ball just rolls between us, losing momentum when we both stop.
Breathing heavy. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, Z.”
Nico looks up at the sky, his chest rising and falling fast with each breath. “I don’t even trust myself at this point. This all seems pointless. Fernanda is dead. June is dead.” He snorts, but it sounds more like a chuckle. “And still I have no idea how to help myself or her.”
My throat tightens, and the cold air burns my lungs with each inhale. I don’t answer, even though I know that he’s looking for reassurance, anything. I give him none, because I’m one of those people he can’t trust. Even though I tell myself excuses for why I need to do this, it's all a lie that I feed myself to make the betrayal digestible.
“Fuck, I’m such an asshole, Zayden… Fuck, how are you?”
I scoff, waving my hand, trying to get him to stop before he gets going. I didn’t need pity; my dad had been dead long before his body got the memo. I wasn’t grieving…
All I feel is rage, resentment, and I guess everything in between. I stare into the horizon, trying not to focus on the look on Nico’s face. “Talk to me, bro.”
“There’s not much to say,” I reply honestly.
I didn’t have a burial for him. I didn't go to the memorial our neighbors threw together. Something lodges in my chest. I spent my entire life grieving a man who wasn’t there, and now that he’s really gone, the only difference is that I now have a bag full of ashes. Nico sits beside me, and I turn to look at him, noticing all the bruises and the dark circles that permanently shadow his under eye. I hate how much this place has taken from him, and I hate knowing that it was all pointless because the girl he’s trying to seek justice for is the same one who holds me hostage to this deception. What a hard pill to fucking swallow.
“You should really lay low, man. I know you love Shiloh, but that’s gonna get you killed.”
Nico drags a hand down his face, and with a sideways smile, he just says, “I’ve been dying slowly since I got here, Z.” Playfully, I punch his shoulder; there’s no real power behind it.
“Think about your grandma and your little brother. You still have a lot to lose. Don’t throw it all away.”
This time, Nico doesn’t respond, and I’m thankful for the comfortable silence that settles between us. The cold continues to bite into my flesh, my extremities growing numb.
“It’s cold, man.” Nico shoots up to his feet, shaking off his limbs to get his blood pumping, and I do the same. Then footsteps crunch across the field, causing us both to turn toward the source of the sound.
ShilohfuckingJohnson.
“You gotta be kidding me,” I snarl, shaking my head in disapproval. Shiloh doesn’t budge, holding her head up with no shame, wrapped in a thick coat with her hair pulled back and eyes locked on Nico.
“I need to talk to him,” she says in a low voice.
I quickly stand between them, brushing ice off my pants. “No, what you need to do is stay away, Johnson.” Her lip quivers, and I can feel Nico glare a dagger into the back of my head.
“Zayden,” he murmurs softly as I snap my gaze towards him.
“Don’t Zayden me. This is gonna end badly.”
He shrugs. The assholefuckingshrugs, then moves past me and towards Shiloh. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t choose this for me.”
“But you are for him,” I snap back at her, and Nico gives me a look to back off, a subtle warning only I notice. My jaw clenches tight, and I give in, forcing myself to accept that this is his choice in a world where all of them have been taken. “I’ll keep an eye out, make it quick.”
