Taylor POV
The long halftime break feels like an endless pause between two storms which will soon unleash their fury.
The tunnel walls continue to vibrate from the crowd noise while I walk toward the locker room.
I enter the locker room with my clipboard against my body to find Aiden and his teammates resting on benches while their sweat -drenched shoulders glistening and their water bottles release a steady stream of water.
He sits alone with his elbows resting on his knees while his head remains lowered as if the entire weight of the fields is resting in his hands. Now or never. I force my legs to move.
The air feels thicker around him, heavy like static, making every nerve in me go tight.
“Hey, Aiden,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel “I want to talk to you About Ella.”
His lift his head, staring at me with those gray eyes narrowing, though his expression stays unreadable.
“What about her?” His tone is flat, as if he doesn’t care, but the flicker in his gaze betrays him.
He cares.
I swallow hard. “L.. I accidentally overheard her conversation with her friend. They were talking about you.”
His eyes sharpen, cutting into me. The silence between us stretches, sharp as glass.
My pulse pounds, but I push forward anyway. “I can tell you what they talked about. And I have an idea. Something that could help you get her back. In return, clear that last two warning records you gave me.”
The corner of his mouth tenses. “And what makes you think that I will let you meddle in something that isn’t yours?”
I grip the clipboard tighter, the edge biting into my palm. “Because I know what I heard. And because I think you still want her. If I’m right, then what I know and what I can do could matter to you. Ignore me if you want, but if you push me away, someone might steal her away from forever, someone like Dylan.”
That’s when his eyes turn colder than steel He leans forward, his voice low and dangerous. “No one can threaten me.”
My throat goes dry, but I force the words out anyway.“It’s not a threat. It’s a fair exchange.”
“Whether I stay or not doesn’t matter, but if it helps you win back Ella—”
“You say it first,” he cuts me with a smirk, cool and sharp. ” And don’t try to fool me.”
The warning sends shivers down my spine.
“Ella and her friend still think you’re better than Dylan.” His eyes narrow slightly, but I keep going. “She doesn’t want anyone else taking you from her. I suggest you make her jealous by being seen with another woman, and she will come back to you.”
Aiden’s laugh comes sharp, derisive, echoing off concrete walls. “Are you offering yourself up as bait now?” His eyes gleam, almost amused. “I’ve already seen through your game.”
“I meant someone else! Maybe even flirt with her friend!” Heat burns through my chest. “You think all women revolve around you?”
My voice shakes with anger I can’t swallow, I look out at the corridor.
And then I see her. Ella. She is standing a few yards away, with her mouth clenched and her eyes burning intensely.
From where she’s standing, it looks like Aiden and I are closer than we are, too close. Her gaze clings to the space between us, to the heat of an intimacy that isn’t there, but might as well be. I freez
Aiden doesn’t. He notices. Of course he notices.
1/3
Chapter 10
+25 Bonus
That smirk flickers again. He shifts subtly closer, tilting his shoulders, so the angle looks even more intimate from Ella’s view.
It’s a deliberate performance. And Ella’s face hardens, every inch her body screaming jealousy.
My heart pounds against my ribs, uneven and quick.
Aiden stands suddenly taller, stronger and his mood has changed,s if someone flipped a switch.
“Jeremy,” Aiden calls across the room. His teammate jogs over, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Yeah?”
“Go tell Ella I want to talk to her after the game.” His voice is low and calm, but still has that firmness. “Ooh,” Jeremy nods with
a smile and walks off.
I don’t miss how Dylan lingers nearby, eyes narrowing when Jeremy approaches Ella.
After Jeremy walks away, Dylan walks up to Ella, and they exchange sharp words I can’t make out over the echo of halftime announcements, but Ella’s expression says enough–tight, furious, conflicted. Dylan gestures, sharp and defensive.
Ella fires back, her hands slicing the air. It’s messy, heated, and impossible to ignore.
I glance at Aiden.
His jaw is set, but his lips show a hint of contentment. The game has become his domain and for the first time Ella does not control every aspect of it. The whistle blows again, sharp and merciless.
We’re back. The second half opens at a breakneck pace. Dylan storms the field with renewed aggression, like anger could sharpen his edges.
But it dulls them instead. His passes become uncontrolled, and his foot movements become uncoordinated. His forehead glistens with sweat as he moves with abrupt jerks, revealing his growing frustration.
And then–he lunges. He cuts sharp toward Aiden, faster than before, his body angled wrong. My stomach knots.
He’s aiming for Aiden’s left side–the old injury everyone whispers about but no one says aloud.
It’s dirty. Calculated.
“Watch it!” one of the players yells, but the words are too late. The ball strikes with a loud impact that resonates deep inside my body. Aiden loses his balance while trying to protect his injured side as he drops to the ground.
The crowd erupts, half gasps, half cheers. My clipboard slips from my hands, clattering to the turf.
Before I know it, my legs are moving, my lungs burning as I rush across the sideline.
“Aiden!” My voice tears from my throat. I drop to my knees beside him, my hands reaching instinctively for his shoulder, his wrist anything.
“Are you okay? Did he-“His breathing becomes labored as his face distorts from the pain. The team members form a tight circle around us while coaches yell and while the referee blush his whistles.
Panic grips me. My chest aches with it. If Dylan targeted that injur–if he really-
But then. A flicker. Aiden’s eyes cut to mine and for a fraction of a cond, they aren’t clouded with pain at all.
They’re sharp. Clear. Calculating.
My breath catches. He is faking?
The referee’s whistle pierces the stadium air like a blade, shrilling mercilessly.
My heart stutters as his hand lifts the red card high, catching in the floodlights.
2/3
