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As I walk away, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of Lil, her eyes locked on mine.

For a moment, just a moment, a flicker of something other than hurt marks her gaze. Longing? Regret?

I can’t be sure. But it’s enough to give me hope. Don’t worry, princess. I’ll have you in my arms soon enough.

“Dude, you’re gonna get us all benched!” Brandon shoves a helmet into my hands.

“I know, I know. Thanks for covering.” I tug my practice jersey over my head and follow him onto the field. Football is a welcome distraction I can channel my restless energy into.

The team is already running drills. Coach bellows at them, face beet red. Here we go.

“Barron! Late again? What’s your excuse this time?” Coach asks.

“Sorry, Coach. Won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” He points at the others. “Now, get your asses on the field before I bench you for the rest of the season!”

The whistle blows, and we launch into action. We run through play after play, and sweat drips down my neck, soaking my shirt. By the time Coach finally blows the whistle, signaling the end of practice, my muscles burn, protesting each hit and tackle.

I stagger over to the bench and peel off my helmet to splash water on my face, relishing the brief relief.

“You need to get your shit with her fixed.” Brandon comes up behind me.

I give him a weak smile. “If I knew how.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yes. I tried talking to her, and since then, Jason’s hovering over her.”

I grab a towel and dry my face. I lower the towel and spot Jason striding over, eyes narrowed. Speak of the devil.

He stops right in front of my face, and I stand up, meeting him head-on.

“Stop stalking her, Barron,” he says.

My fingers curl into fists. “Mind your own damn business.”

“She is my business, and she finally realized you’re not worth her time.”

“Leave it, Campbell.” I’m barely holding on here.

“Or what?” Jason shoves me. “You know, I was with her all last night. Real close and—”

My fist connects with his face with a sickening crack. Pain flares up my arm, but it’s drowned in the satisfaction of wiping that sneer off his face. The impact sends Jason staggering, his eyes wide with shock and fury as he clutches his jaw.

“You son of a bitch!” He launches himself at me, and we tumble to the ground, rolling around as we exchange blows.

The world blurs, and all I can see is red—blinding, searing red.

It consumes me as my fists connect with flesh again and again. Everything’s fucking red. How fucking dare he? How dare he touch her, talk about her like he has any right? Each blow is a promise: He will never put his hands on her again. He will never speak her name again. He will never—

Hands grab at me, voices shouting, but they’re distant, drowned out by the blood roaring in my ears. I shrug them off, focused solely on making Jason pay. Pay for putting his hands on my girl.

My princess. My Lil.

“Sebastian, stop! You’re going to kill him!” Brandon’s voice slices through the fog of my fury.

Kill him? Good. He deserves it. I draw back my fist, ready to deliver another blow—

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