Page 141 of The Casualty of Us
“Really?” Kyler laughs with disbelief. “He called a play without helmets or anything?”
But Hayes just stares at him for a beat as his chest seems to expand. “Whoops.” The word leaves him on a harsh breath, making it very clear he really couldn’t give a shit. “Must’ve forgot.”
I see the anger flood Kyler’s face as he takes another step toward Hayes, while the latter just looks like he’s won something.
“Shit.” I move with the curse when Hayes clenches his fists and am about to intervene when Ollie shouts across the field.
“Kyler! Come on, man!” He finally throws me a bone. “Defensive line!”
Kyler’s gaze moves to where Ollie is standing with his hands on his hips before going back to Hayes and then finally to me. Clearly torn on which choice to make but eventually giving me a single nod before trudging off across the field because there’s no way he’d pass up any opportunity to get back in Ollie’s good graces. Leaving me and Hayes staring at each other with a much different energy pulsing through the air.
“Why the fuck is he there every time I turn around?”
His hands clench with the words, and even though I know they’re not directed at me so much as the situation…it still makesme want to defend myself. “I told you there’s nothing going on with him.”
“Right,” he scoffs darkly, turning his head to look across the field and giving me his profile. “I know. It was a crush, and you don’t like him like that now.”
The phrase seems like it’s a repetition already, though, making me frown but…
“You can’t hit him, Hayes. Ever.” His gaze snaps back to mine and I swallow at the way it narrows but still repeat so that he really gets it. “Tackle him in football all you want, but do not lay a finger on him outside of it.”
“What the fuck?” he bites out, that darkness pulsing around him again. “Why not?”
“His dad is the director of the FBI,” I whisper, some of the frustration filling me up because of Kyler’s unfortunate presence here making its way into my voice. “He plays golf with my dad on the weekends.” His face goes hard, and I suck in a quick breath, trying to get him to understand. “It’s a pain, but Ollie and I know that it would make things awkward if we ever had a huge falling out, so it’s just easier to ignore him for the most part.”
“So…what?” His eyes dart to the field, nostrils flaring, before they finally come back to mine. “You just let him harass you and don’t say shit so that your dad can keep his playdate?”
“No.” I narrow my eyes right back at him as that frustration flares. “I ignore him and understand that he’ll go away once he gets bored enough.”
“I didn’t.” His brows shoot down with the statement like it’s just another unwelcome realization, and he immediately argues. “Ophelia, you can’t expect me—”
“Let’s not be stupid here, okay?” I hiss out, slightly panicked that he really doesn’t seem to be getting this. “His father is the director of theFBI, Hayes—you know, the people who still handle my kidnapping case?” An incredulous sound leaves meat the reality of it all. “That is not a person you want to make an enemy of, and punching his son in the face would definitely do that. Even Ollie understands that.”
He stares at me for a long moment, hazel swirling with so many things that I can’t keep track of them before he breathes out tensely. “And what do you expect me to do, O?”
“I—”
“Just stand there like a good soldier and watch him fawn all over you?”
“I didn’t—”
“I don’t give a fuck who his father is.” He ducks his head close, and I tip mine back to keep him in sight. “If I see him touch you again, I’m going to lay him out flat, and you need to figure out what the fuck you’re doing here before that happens.”
I open my mouth, but he spins around before I can get a word out, heading straight across the field to where Ollie is staring at us curiously. Ollie’s mouth opens like he’s about to say something before Hayes gives him a hard shake of his head and grabs a ball from the ground. Ollie’s eyes find mine next with a reproachful look, like I’m the one in the wrong here or something.
I didn’t plan any of this.
In fact, this is every bit as inconvenient for me as them. More so even.
“He’s not wrong, though.” I startle at the sound of Lisette’s voice, head whipping around in time to catch the lift of her brows. “You do need to get that figured out this year. Add it to your to-do list or something.”
“I know, I know,” I grumble, not really sure whether she catches it and not caring enough to repeat it before taking off at a jog again. “Now remind me of the other sycophant’s names.”
Knowing there’s nothing I can do to make it better for him right now and having to make my peace with starting on a plan for later.
“Aw,” she snarks back. “Look at you, already embracing the sisterhood.”
I snort. “Nice try.”
