Page 4 of Bend & Break
There's a vein ticking at her temple. Just one.
And I know this because itpulsateswhen she’s angry.
The entire men’s team is low-key in love with her, but none of them are unwise enough to admit it out loud. And me? I wouldn’t say Ihave a crush,exactly. I just think she could ruin my life, and I’d say thank you.
She takes one look at us—sweaty, rumpled, and still slightly flushed from shouting—and doesn’t even blink.
“My office.Now.”
Her tone isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be. It’s the kind that travels through your bones and makes every bad decision you’ve ever made line up for judgment.
Mads exhales beside me, the beginning of a word forming on his lips.
“Don’t,” I mutter before he can sayanything.
We start walking.
And for the first time since the elevator stopped, I kind of wish ithaddropped.
It would’ve been less painful than whatever’s waiting for us in that office.
Chapter 2
Mads
Iam madly in love with Blake Aster.
And there is nothing I love more about her than when she’s riled up.
She’s stomping down the hall ahead of me, shoulders squared, blue hair swishing behind her. It used to be blonde, before the… incident.
Three years and I’m still watching her the same way, like she hung the damn moon and doesn’t even realize it. She’s never looked my way for more than a second, too wrapped up in school and football to spare me a glance, but it doesn’t matter. I’d follow her anywhere. I already do.
And it’s not like I haven’t been into other people—my type’s never been that specific—but nobody’s ever stuck in my head like this. Not the way she does. Which is pathetic, really, because one look from her does me in worse than anything anyone else could offer.
The corridor stretches long and dim, lined with wood-paneled walls and glass cases filled with trophies that look older than we are. The air carries that permanent mix of floor polish and dust, the whole building creaking under the weight of too many years. Harsh light flickers from a brass sconce, throwingshadows across the worn runner that muffles her footsteps just enough.
Her neck is flushed, jaw set like she’s imagining what my blood would look like on the floor. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Doc strides beside me, seconds away from knocking our heads together.
But I don’t care.
I’d sit through a hundred disciplinary meetings if it means I get to watch Blake huff and stomp and yell in my general direction.
Hell, Ihopethey make us do some kind of team-building punishment. Community service. Shared detention.Is detention a thing in college?Pick your poison. As long as I get to spend more time with her, I’ll scrub the locker room floors with a damn toothbrush.
She glances back once, just to glare at me, and I grin.
God, she’s going to kill me.
I hope she waits until after the playoffs.
Growing up the youngest of three brothers, I learned quickly that winding people up was both an art and a survival tactic.
And maybe that’s why I get such a thrill out of Blake’s temper now. She doesn’t lose control often, but when she does? Christ, it’s like watching someone score the winning goal in stoppage time.
Doc holds the door open to her office, and we file in under the silent threat of death. Blake goes first, still fuming.
