Page 13 of Pucking Obsessed

I swear my pulse spikes.

You good, princess? You’ve been on my mind all day. That uniform is otherworldly on you.

I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face. He’s watching me. I scan the field and the bleachers behind me, but there’s too many people milling around to spot him. It might be chilly today, but the sun is shining and it seems to have brought even the most reclusive Castlebrook students out for some fresh air. Hayden’s behavior should feel invasive, maybeeven a little suffocating, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel... cared for? Protected? Something I haven’t felt in a long time.

But then my stomach drops when I see another text, this one from an unknown number.

Do you think they screamed when I gutted them like fish?

My breath catches in my throat, and a cold shiver runs down my spine, but I try to stay calm. I try to glance around to see if anyone is looking at me without making it obvious that I’m freaking out inside. The only people who have my number are my mom, Chapel, Hayden, Kirsten and Winter. I onlygaveit to two of those people. How would someone else have gotten it when I literally got this number the day I moved here?

My coach's voice cuts through my thoughts, snapping me out of the haze. I realize she has resumed practice and I’m the only one not paying attention. I’m caught redhanded with my phone out, so things couldn’t get much worse unless whoever sent me that text shows up brandishing the knife they killed my father with.

"Madison," she calls, glaring at me. "I know all about you and the Lockwood boy and how various strings were pulled to acclimate you so quickly in the middle of the semester. If you’re not going to apply yourself, don’t bother coming back to practice because I’m not swayed by money.”

My stomach twists at her words, and it’s not because she’s hurt my feelings…I’ve had far worse said to me. I feel every eye on me as the other girls glance over, whispering to each other. I’m the new girl, the one who’s apparently all tangled up with the Lockwoods. And now? I’m the topic of gossip.

“Of course. I apologize,” is all I can say, tucking my phone back into my skirt, and I see the surprised look on the coach’sface that I didn’t argue with her and accepted my defeat. I’ve got bigger things to worry about. Who the hell sent it? I know I’ll have to bring it up to Hayden when I see him next. If this is a game, a scare tactic, then he needs to know. To be honest, I want to confide in him, I don’t want to carry this on my own.

As practice ends, I’m winded, but it’s a good kind of tired. I notice Kirsten on her phone, and it’s obvious she’s tattling to her father about the coach. I’m actually relieved. At least I won’t have to deal with her directly for a bit. Maybe she feels bad for me, being new and all, or maybe Hayden told her to look out for me. Either way, some space would be nice while I try and figure out what to do about the text.

I’m re-reading it when seemingly out of nowhere, a football player jogs across the field, his face glistening with sweat from practice, football helmet tucked under his arm. He has brown hair, scruffy in the way that makes him look like he doesn't care, and cold, calculating blue eyes that study me like I'm his next conquest.

"Hey, do you remember me?" he asks, and I blink at him, disoriented, because I have no idea who he is. My brain's sluggish with exhaustion, and I’m not in the mood to play along with whatever game he’s trying to start.

He clears his throat, clearly irritated by my silence. “I’m Dawson Meyers. Quarterback for the football team,” he says, as if he expects me to drop everything and worship him for those stats. These guys, all of them including Hayden and his friends, think they’re gods because they play a sport that makes everyone fawn over them. I just tolerate it a little better from Hayden because I like that thing he does with his tongue when he’s kissing me.

Stop it.

I can tell from the way Dawson stands too close, how he invades my space, that he's used to getting what he wants.Dawson shifts on his feet, taking another step into my space. "I wanted to ask you about the paper for English Lit. You’re in that class, right? I’ve noticed you," he presses, as though he thinks I should be flattered. I’m not as dumb as he needs me to be. This is about making me aware of him. His eyes track me, weighing me, measuring me like I’m just another object.

I try not to roll my eyes, but I can't help myself. This guy's never written a paper in his life. "I’m still figuring out everything at Castlebrook. I’m sure someone else might be a better fit as a study partner," I reply flatly, turning to get my bag, desperate for this to end.

But of course, it doesn’t. Dawson steps even closer, and my stomach clenches in discomfort. He’s crowding me now, pressing into my personal space like he has the right to. He could be the one who sent me that text for all I know. Something is off because the way he’s looking at me does not indicate desire. I know what desire looks like. I see it in Hayden every time my eyes lock onto his. There’s something sinister in this guy’s stare, and it makes me want to vomit.

"Come on, lighten up. When are you going to come to one of the football parties?" His voice is smooth, calculating. "You're a cheerleader now, it's your duty."

I tense, feeling a rush of panic. He's not listening, not hearing me when I try to brush him off. So I snap, "What do you actually want from me?"

He smirks, eyes narrowing. "You know the cheerleaders at this school know how to have fun. You want to fit in, don’t you?" His breath is too close. My body reacts with an instinctive repulsion. Does he have some sort of beef with Hayden? Is that what this whole interaction is about? The rest of the guys at this school have left me alone, and I don’t doubt that’s because of whatever little ‘no touching or looking’ rule Hayden has put into effect.

Dawson moves faster than I think is possible, and I’m just as quick, jerking my elbow away from his grasp when he grabs me. "Don’t touch me." My voice shakes, though I try to keep it steady.

It’s like a trigger, making me spiral into a rage. His touch, that firm grip reminds me of the way my father used to grab me and hold me in place when I didn’t comply with his commands. My heart thuds in my chest, pounding hard against the memories. He’s dead. He’s fucking dead. I shove at Dawson, pushing him back, my voice icy as I meet his gaze, "Don’t you ever touch me like that again, do you hear me?"

He laughs. It’s a harsh, dismissive sound that makes my skin crawl. "Have it your way. Everyone knows I love a chase, especially when the prey is blonde. They’re always more fun when they finally submit." He’s mocking me now, treating me like a toy, and I’m still convinced I’m not his opponent. My gut feeling tells me that this has something to do with Hayden.

I suck in a steadying breath, my stomach rolling, and turn away from Dawson, just wanting to get out of this conversation, away from the pressure he's putting on me. People are starting to notice. I can feel their eyes on me as I walk, and it only makes everything feel more on edge. I don’t need to be caught up in any more scandals this soon into my stay at Castlebrook.

I only get a few strides away when Kirsten catches up, her cheer bag slung over her shoulder. "You need to stay away from Dawson Meyers," she says under her breath, like she’s warning me and she’s annoyed. I don’t know if she thinks I was flirting with him or if she’s just irritated that he approached me at all.

I let my carefully constructed façade slip for a moment, unable to stop the sarcastic words from coming out. "No shit, he’s heinous."

Kirsten’s about to reply, but then there's a sudden, loud noise. The commotion is coming from behind us. My heart skipsa beat, and I instinctively turn around, my eyes locking on Hayden. He must have been here the whole time because he’s on top of Dawson, and fists are flying. Hayden's punches are fast and controlled, landing hard, clearly winning the fight. But Dawson, despite the fact that he's getting pummeled, still tries to fight back. It’s like watching a violent ballet, fluid, intense, and utterly terrifying.

I can’t look away, especially when Hayden glances up at me, our eyes locking. I know I must look horrified, but the beautiful psycho smirks at me before landing another blow to Dawson’s face.

Kirsten screams at the two guys who are just standing there, watching. One of them I recognize as Tristan. He looks completely unbothered, his eyes impassive as he watches the fight. Winter is by his side, ducking her face into his chest like she’s trying to shield herself from the violence. The other guy has cropped dark brown hair, and he’s wearing sweatpants and a Castlebrook hockey hoodie. He’s grinning, looking entertained by the whole scene.

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