Page 187 of The Blairville Legacies

Again, his guys laughed.

“Don’t take it personally,” Bayla said, and I tried to listen to her, but Nash didn’t seem to want to stop.

“I’d like to know if you can play as well as you can flirt.” He looked at his friends. “So, obviously, not at all...”

“Oooh!” It came from Noah and also from a few others around us who had paused in their actions and were now looking at me and Bayla or at Nash.

“Julian, let’s go.”

Bayla grabbed my arm, but I stood still. More than that. I looked at Nash.

“Come on, Bardot!”

“Bardot, Bardot, Bardot!” he shouted, clapping his hands, and his friends joined in.

Don’t do it.I heard Emely in my head. She was trying to communicate with me, but I cut the connection.

Neither Nash nor her father had put an alpha bond on me, but Emely somehow always made it into my head.

“Hold this,” I said, taking off my shirt to hand it to Bayla, who accepted it, partly confused, partly overwhelmed.

Again, people cheered as I ran onto the field in just my sweatpants to show Nash how to play properly.

We’d practiced together for years in high school, until it had been over for me.

Now Nash looked at me with a condescending grin, as if he’d forgotten those days, and divided his guys into two teams. Hunter and Noah came to me.

Of course, he sent the one who probably liked me the least and one who couldn’t really play, even though he was very well trained.

What we were going to play here wasn’t a real football game, but something similar, a silly little game, part of the pack duels.

I threw the ball to one of the guys from my team on Nash’s side, got into position and ignored all the people gathered around us, some of whom had their cell phones out.

“Let’s go!” one of the guys on the edge of the imaginary pitch shouted.

The ball flew up into the air, and with a leap, I caught it just in time to run for it. The crowd cheered, but I didn’t really care. I ran straight at Nash, who was standing there with his legs wide and focused, ready to tackle me to the ground.

Just at the right second, I ducked, slid under his outstretched arms, rolled and kept running until I reached the finish line and pushed the ball to the ground. Loud clapping and cheering filled the campus.

Only Nash looked at me with a grumpy expression. Apparently, he hadn’t expected me to be in such good shape.

“Come on, Nash!” one of the guys I didn’t know called out, probably a newbie.

Immediately, people on the outside joined in to cheer Nash on.

I briefly looked for Bayla, who seemed a little distrustful of the game.

We repositioned ourselves and one of Nash’s team members stood behind me on the right, holding the football.

“Go!” the blonde guy on the sideline shouted, and the ball flew over my head to Nash, who was standing about 30 meters away from me. He threw himself up to catch the ball.

The crowd cheered as he immediately took off running.

I concentrated on his steps, his movement and his muscles.

However, just in front of me, something happened that I hadn’t expected.

Nash didn’t seem to want to avoid me, instead he rammed me so hard on the shoulder that I flew to the ground. A murmur went through the crowd as I stayed on the ground a little longer, twisting in pain.

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