Page 25 of The Players We Hate
A note. A message. A mistake left out in the open.
Instead, I found a planner tucked beneath the pillow. I hesitated before I opened it. She looked too soft to be dangerous.
But so did her brother once.
My fingers closed around the planner, and I pulled it free. Heavier than I expected, it was packed full. Each page was a carefully constructed day. I flipped to the current week and scanned the neat, meticulous handwriting.
Color-coded blocks with class assignments, study groups, and volunteer events. And then tonight:7:00 p.m. — Dinner with Parents.
Figured.
But what made my chest catch was what I saw scribbled in the corner of the page. A cluster of faint inked vines, half-drawn stars, and below it in small cursive:Some people sparkle. Others fade trying to be seen.
The words didn’t scream for attention. They were tucked away like a secret, as if she hadn’t meant for anyone to ever read them.
And for some reason... they gutted me.
I thought about the way she moved through campus, carrying herself as though she were above it all. But now I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t power—maybe it was armor.
She didn’t want to be watched. She wanted to be noticed, but for the right reasons.
My gaze dragged across the rest of her desk—lined notebooks, capped pens, a candle that hadn’t yet been lit. I found another book under the lamp. A journal. The kind you didn’t write assignmentsin.
I started to reach for it, then let my hand drop. This wasn’t what I came for. I told myself I needed leverage—something to hold on to if one mistake with the governor’s daughter was enough to cost me my season. Maybe even my career.
The longer I stood there, the less I believed that was true. Maybe I wanted to understand her, to see a piece of the version that stayed with me when the lights went out.
I backed away from the desk, nerves suddenly prickling the back of my neck when I heard voices echoing from the hallway outside. My mind immediately jumped to wondering if it was her or Alisa coming back.
I crossed the room fast, double-checked the lock, and smoothed the blanket where I’d moved it. I paused one last time by the desk. The planner sat exactly where I’d found it, yet something still felt off.
I slipped out into the hallway, heart thudding against my ribs.
After passing the elevator, I ducked down the stairs instead, taking them two at a time. Before I hit the exit, I doubled back and returned the spare key to the RA’s desk,tucking it behind the clipboard where I’d seen the guy grab it earlier.
I was almost in the clear.Almost.
I pushed open the stairwell door, the cool night air brushing against my face in a rush. And then I collided with someone. The jolt knocked me back a step, a soft gasp breaking the quiet.
“Talon?”
I glanced down, and my eyes met hers.
Wren.
Her hair was pulled back neatly, lips parted in surprise, a take-out bag clutched in her hand. I hadn’t expected her to be back already.
My stomach sank.
Shit.
ChapterSeven
Wren
The car ride back to campus felt longer than usual. Maybe because the silence between my parents had been louder than anything they’d said all night. Or maybe because the weight of pretending—for the entire dinner—was still coiled around my shoulders like a too tight scarf.
I’d tried. God, I really tried.
