Page 136 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

We’re pieces of a puzzle that weren’t meant to come together.

“I know it’s not because I’m rich. Damien’s loaded with generational wealth, and you treat him better than me.”

“This isn’t about Damien,” I mutter, fighting the urge to look at the floor.

Anywhere but his angered eyes.

I’m only holding it together because of that small strand of pride. It’s strained—struggling not to snap—but it feels like my only lifeline to keeping my dignity in a public place like this.

This forbidden place of dark memories.

“Then who is this about?” he questions me, his nostrils flaring.

I don’t back down.

“This is about Maddox, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer.

We just stare at one another, the tension between us palpable.

He gravitates toward me, inch by inch, and I hold my breath because there’s nowhere I can go.

Nowhere to run…

This Isn’t About Us

~MIKAYLA~

“It’s always about Maddox, isn’t it?”

Jayce freezes in place, his lips mere centimeters from mine while I’m trying to hold back the sigh of relief that begs to come out of my parted lips.

I break the intense stare with Jayce to look to my left and put an image to the calm yet confident voice that manages to save me from experiencing something I’d surely regret.

“Damien.” I can barely speak.

My eyes widened to take his 6’4” figure in the perfectly fitted dark blue suit. His hair is tied back, and those beautiful black with hints of brown eyes stare back at me with not a speck of judgment.

I’m surprised he’s calm and still—his hands in his pockets while he stands there like an observer, ready to reveal the verdict of our performance.

He pulls his hand out of his pocket, showing me the phone that I realize is mine that I left on the bench.

He was able to pass by the bench, grab my phone, and stop Jayce from kissing me. How long has he been standing here?

“Jagiya,” he begins, pronouncing the word with a thick Korean accent. “Phone call.”

“Phone… call,” I whisper the words before I gasp and duck so I can run under Jayce’s outstretched arm and skid to a stop before Damien in three seconds flat.

Damien further smiles, the look far too sly and taunting not to have a purpose, but I’m focused on apologizing to Dimitri.

I forgot to hang up!

“Hello, Dimitri?” I begin and don’t really get why I’m breathless.

“So, should I stop running?” Dimitri actually sounds out of breath.

“Why are you running?” I breathe.

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