Page 69 of Beautiful Defiance

The wind and rain pick up, and I hunch forward and draw my shoulders inward. The last three days has been this annoying drizzle that covers my face like a spray bottle on “mist” setting. It also obscures my sight. I would rather have the skies open and dump rain than put up with “the mist.”

My wish came true. It is dumping, and my umbrella is bearing the brunt of the fat drops pounding on it. Holding on to the handle with one hand, I shove my other hand in my jacket pocket. My teeth chatter. I cocoon my backpack between my feet. With my luck, it’ll fall in the gap in the bleachers and I’ll have to go after it.

In my line of sight, I see a pair of cleats coming closer to me. I slide my eyes upward. Seven is running toward me.

“Hey, wait for me inside my truck. Make sure you turn on the heat. I can hear your teeth chattering from across the field.”

I tip the umbrella back so I can see him. He is soaking wet, and drops of rain cling to his skin, his long lashes, and his mouth. I want to flick the tip of my tongue on all those places and lick at the drops. His skin would be cool. Salty too.

“Don’t stare at me like that, Leigh.” He blinks at the raindrops in his eyes. “Go before I do something we’ll regret.”

What could he be regretting? It can’t be the temptation to kiss me. We’ve kissed many times, with and without tongues, and he’s never said he regretted kissing me. In fact, he asked if he could keep on kissing me.

“The guys will think something’s going on between us.”

“Well, yeah. I told them you’re out here freezing your ass off because you’re helping me pass my classes.”

“You did?”

He cups the back of his neck. “It’s my own damn fault you’re out here in the cold and rain. It’s time I take responsibility for my fuck-ups.” He hands me his truck keys.

I am so proud of him for owning his mistakes, I don’t defy. Or think too hard on how he hasn’t told his friends and teammates we’re more than study buddies. I take the keys from him.

“Thank you, Seven. I’ll see you soon.”

Does he agree with his jerk teammate that I’m weird and he wouldn’t date me? Is Seven embarrassed or ashamed to be seen in public with me as anything more than his tutor? Is he that concerned with what everyone thinks of him? Is he interested in Ginger? I wouldn’t blame him if he is. She’s drop dead gorgeous, has great fashion sense, is liked by everyone, and she doesn’t rock the boat. Compared to me, Ginger is an angel.

Why go down the road paved with doubt? If I do, I’ll have to give up spending time with Seven. Put the screen back on over my bedroom window. Keep him out of my life, my mind, and my heart.

“Soon. Get warm quick, yeah?”

“Yep.”

He helps me down from the bleachers, one hand holding the umbrella over my head and the other holding my free hand. After my feet are firmly on the ground and he hands me back the umbrella, Seven runs over to his teammates.

Malice and Trace high-five him. His coach clamps his hand on Seven’s shoulder and squeezes. They exchange words. Seven glances my way with a smile on his face. Our gazes lock, and he gives me a two-finger salute.

My heart pitter-patters as hard as the rain pounding the ground around me. For the rest of practice, I divide my time watching Seven and wondering how I’ll invite myself to the party Hannah’s going to tonight.

I don’t have to wonder long. I get a text from Rue. There’s this happening party tonight. The guy hosting it goes to her school, and the girl he’s dating goes to mine. How perfect is that? “Very,” I text back, smiling. She is a social butterfly and doesn’t let school rivalries get in the way of having fun.

I read her next text.

Rue: Bonus? Shay and Winslow will be there. They’re good guys

Me: I am in. See you later

I hold my cell to my chest, excited for my first party since moving to Cambridge. Too bad Seven won’t be there. He told me yesterday he won’t be coming over tonight. There is a huge quiz tomorrow in his finance class, and he’ll be up late studying. That guy is on the right track.

I look up. Practice is over, and he’s sauntering over to the truck. I check him out from head to toe. His dark hair is plastered to his head, and his uniform molds to his body. He is all bulk with the padding he’s wearing under the uniform, but he moves with the grace and stealth of a predator on the hunt.

The intense way he looks at me tells me I am the prey. Heat uncoils in my core and pools in my girl parts. Seven is downright sexy, but it’s not his good looks that draws me to him, though it’s a bonus.

What has me falling hard is how kind he is, and he hides this kindness well, using his bad-boy jerk image to his advantage. It’s brilliant, but I won’t be telling him I’m onto him anytime soon.

There’s a good chance he’ll stop doing good just to prove to me how bad he is. Reverse psychology. I shake my head. That boy.

He pays more than the asking price for the items that the poorer kids at our school are selling on this buy, sell app. If that kid dares inflate the price for someone other than Seven, Seven will give the kid a bad rating and make his life at and outside school miserable. That’s what I overheard as he paced outside my front door, haggling a higher price with the seller. Who does that? Um, apparently Seven Shanahan.

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