Page 156 of The Kiss Of Death
“Go, Dalia!” Yasmine cheered from the sidelines.
That was my cue to turn around and join the group. They each towered over me by at least two heads and were twice as broad. I felt like a white rabbit in the middle of bears. The moment Kay’s whistle pierced the air, the teams surged toward the ball in a rugby melee while I ended up sprawled in the mud in the middle of this chaos.
Others lunged for the ball. Levi, seemingly unconcerned by the pandemonium, hunkered down beside me. My face was already streaked with dirt, and I hastily wiped it clean with the pink sleeve of my sweatshirt.
“You can do better than that,” Levi snarled, like this all was amusing to him.
“And you could actually play instead of standing around like an idiot!” I shot back.
“I’m not standing around. I’m waiting for the right opportunity.”
The ball was flung into the air, landing perfectly in Levi’s waiting hand. With a smirk, he dashed toward the opposing team’s goal.
For the first time in days, I didn’t feel the crushing weight of heartbreak and agony because hatred can also become as powerful as love and as devastating. It was an easier feeling than loving someone.
And to hate Levi right now—it felt good; it felt healing.
“Dalia, wake up!” Tara’s voice thundered as I sprinted to intercept the ball midair.
Dirt clung to me from head to toe, and the initial notion of fun now seemed like a distant memory. Grasping the ball, I charged toward the opposing team’s territory, a bulky opponent bearing down on me.
But Levi, that insufferable jerk, swooped in and tackled him before he could reach me. I lunged to the ground and squeezed my eyes shut while landing on the grass to score my first point and offer my team a tie.
As I rose, mud-splattered and breathless, Sylas grinned at me, his polo shirt and pulled-back hair still miraculously neat. “Well done, Dalia. Continue like that, and you’ll soon be as tough as—”
“Dalia!” Tara marched toward me, her eyebrows furrowed while Sylas seized that opportunity to eclipse himself with a laugh. “You weren’t terrible for once. Unlike you!” She jabbed a finger at another teammate, listing his mistakes.
I smiled. A “not terrible” from Tara was worth more than a thousand compliments.
“You’re dirtying one of my ribbons.”
That gravelly voice.I met his gaze head-on, tilting my chin. Levi, as dirty as me from all the tackles he took on my behalf, was still looking unfairly and effortlessly gorgeous in the most sadistic way, with his hands casually tucked in his pockets.
My heart pounded against my rib cage. He’d never failed to send me one ribbon each day, but then, Levi had never been one to give up easily.
“Well.” I offered him the coldest smile I could imagine, trying to imitate him. “It was an upgrade from the trash. Have you ever considered that I might never want you back?”
I crossed my fingers behind my back.
“I have, but I’ll fight for you no matter what.” His smirk made my skin crawl. He leaned closer, his voice a dark promise, “You can’t get rid of me.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “You’re never going to change, and—”
I blinked, not because of the sunlight, but because Levi had shed his sweater, standing before me in just a tight shirt that accentuated every sculpted, lean muscle. Levi, who always hid the scars on his forearms.As my eyes traced the lines of his veins, another wave of goose bumps rippled across my skin. I felt the reminders of his grip on my throat, his mouth on my nape, his hard body making me feel things I never—
“Are you staring at me?”
“No!” I screamed, tearing my gaze away and hurrying back to the group huddled in a circle.Don’t get distracted by his beauty. Everything about him is a scheme.
Even his lips. His oh-so-kissable lips that had only ever kissedme.
“This is going to be our last action,” Tara warned. “Be killers!”
A swift slap on her hand set the team into motion. We surged back into a melee, and Kay blew the final whistle, signaling the last two minutes of the game. Levi obviously stood steadfast by my side, his glare serving as a deterrent to anyone who dared to approach too closely.
“You know I’m seeing my old therapist; we booked a weekly session.” His voice reached me from within the fray.
“Push!” the team roared, grappling for control of the ball.
