Page 60 of Framed

The team scattered to their positions, while Xavier found himself standing in the middle with his right hand thumping his chest. He once told me it helped him focus on which play to call, on where to move the pieces on his chessboard.

His hand stopped and it was like watching a play or a ballet, how precise his next movements were. His movements exuded confidence and weren’t rushed as if he knew this was his show. That he was the director and they were his running crew. It was hard not to focus on him. He cupped his hands on either side of his mouth and shouted out a new play. Kane and another player on the opposite side of the field moved from their positions and ran past each other, swapping sides.

Xavier leaned forward and called the pick, starting the game, and the crowd went silent.

Everyone was on edge. Before we knew it, it was the fourth quarter and we were up by a touchdown. The crowd and sideline players groaned as the referee called the last play good. That meant it was the opponent’s ball.

At the end of the game, our side erupted, myself included. The crowd roared.

“For someone who’s not into football games, you sure seem thrilled to be here.” Winter teased as we pushed our way through the crowd of girls trying to speak to their favorite players.

My throat grew hot. I had lied to her earlier, and judging by the look in her eyes, she knew.

“I’m just messing with ya,” Winter elbowed me. Then we both came to an abrupt halt as a familiar figure blocked our path.

Kane grinned right at me, a wicked expression in his usually soft eyes. “Come for your first game of the season?” he asked. “Like anything you saw out there?”

I smiled, even as my heartbeat quickened. He’d flirted with me before, but it was always soft, coy. Not like this. Winter took one look at my expression and excused herself, drifting away to join a group of girls around another player.

“How’d you know it was my first?” I replied. “Been keeping an eye on me?”

“You could say that.” He stepped closer. He smelled like sweat and torn grass and leather—the scents of the football field. I was intimately familiar with those, after growing up around Xavier. “And you’re dodging my question.”

But the thought of Xavier derailed any further flirtatious responses. I could feel my pulse quickening, knowing he must be somewhere in this crowd, watching me too. My cheeks flooded with heat. “I… it was a good game.”

Kane blinked, no doubt thrown by my ignoring his obvious bait. “Yeah, well. Always happy to bring home a win.”

“I’m sure.” It took all my willpower not to scan our surroundings. Not to seek Xavier’s eyes. I felt certain I could feel them on me, white-hot. But I refused to look up. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He was the one who left me. He cut me out of his life without a word of explanation. The least he could do was approach me first. If he didn’t, I wouldn’t approach him either.

“So, are you—”

“How did—” Kane said at the same time I spoke.

We both stopped again. His face flushed, the same color I imagined mine must be now. I cleared my throat. “Congrats. Again. I should probably look for my roommate.”

“Sure.” He nodded, glancing around the crowd again. A row of girls had lined up by my elbow, elbowing one another and giggling when Kane’s gaze passed their direction. “Scarlett…” he started, but I was already moving. “Maybe I could see you again?” he called, before I was quite out of earshot. “This weekend. How about a movie?”

My pulse jack-rabbited in my chest. I couldn’t do this. Compete for his attention against a mob, all while standing in the spotlight under Xavier’s eye. It was too much. But I didn’t want to reject him in front of half the school either. Already, whispers circled around us. “Sure,” I called, not thinking about what I was agreeing to. “See you then.”

With that, I hurried past Kane and into the melee of people, seeking Winter’s familiar shock of red hair.

chapter twenty five

Xavier

Emotionswerethemostinconvenient social construct ever to exist. I shouldn’t feel the irate amount of agitation coursing through my body about the smile Scarlett gave Pretty Boy Kane two days ago. It’s been two fucking days since I saw the two of them smiling at each other like they knew each other. In the biblical sense. Two days and I still couldn’t get that look of pure happiness that took over her beautiful face out of my head.

All for him.

Kane fucking Rollins. My wide receiver.

Scarlett had been the easiest assignment I’d had thus far. I’d been security for models, actresses, high ranking officials who were all nice-looking. But it was always business, an obligation, a paycheck. Not Scarlett. I wanted to watch over her.

And she was predictable; I knew her routine like the back of my hand. She was in her bathroom before my fight, so I assumed that she was taking a shower and getting ready to resume the Hawaii-Five O marathon she normally reserved for her off days. But then something in my gut told me to call her. The burner phone was for emergencies only; that was protocol. I knew that, but I did it anyway. I figured she would answer and that would be that. But when she wasn’t answering her phone, I acted before I thought and assumed the worst possible scenario. By the time I reached her apartment, I found her door wide open.

My hand was resting on the gun that was nestled in my waistband as I rushed into her apartment. Winter St. James was in the living room, Scarlett’s bedroom door wide open behind her. She glared as I stormed inside, springing up to block me. My mama taught me never to hit a woman. Always be a gentleman. Boy would she roll over in her grave if she saw me now.

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