Don't Break Up With Me.

Darren’s POV

“Drink! Drink! Drink!”

The chant was loud and rough, bottles knocking against each other as my teammates tried to shake off the loss. Someone pushed a beer into my hand and I didn’t argue, I just took it and drank, letting the bitter taste sit on my tongue longer than it should. It didn’t help, not really, but it gave me something to do instead of thinking about the scoreboard still stuck in my head.

Icebulls had won us again.

I dropped the bottle on the table and leaned back, dragging a hand over my face. The bar was packed, full of noise and heat, but it didn’t feel like a celebration on our side. It felt forced, like we were all pretending we didn’t care about losing for the three consecutive times.

“We’ll get them next time,” Mark said beside me, already sounding drunk.

I let out a quiet scoff. “You said that last time.”

“And we will say it again,” he replied with a grin, lifting his bottle.

I didn’t smile back, because it wasn’t just about losing to me.

It was those fuckers.

I reached for my drink again, but before I could take another sip, the door of the bar opened with loud noises that followed the truck of people that came in.

My mood dropped instantly the moment I saw who they were.

The Freaking Icebulls.

They walked in like they owned the place, loud, laughing, still high from their win. A few people turned to look at them, cheering and adding to those prick's egos.

I tightened my grip on the bottle, my fingers pressing into the glass.

Of all bars to celebrate, why do they have to choose this one?

Philip was the first one I noticed, his voice already cutting through the room as he laughed, that same easy smile on his face like everything was a game to him. Right behind him was Cole, bigger, quieter, his eyes already scanning the place like he was looking for trouble.

And then August followed, slower than the rest, like he was already a few drinks in, his movements just a little off.

Three of them, my jaw clenched as I watched their annoying faces laughing and chanting their team names as they pushed in. One was missing, my eyes scanned behind them without thinking, but he wasn’t there.

Asher, the leader of the quads.

I looked away quickly, forcing myself to focus on the table again, but it was too late. My chest had already tightened, that familiar feeling crawling back up like it had never really left.

They didn’t recognize me, though I knew they wouldn’t. Back then, I wasn’t like this…

~~

“Move.” The voice was sharp, bored, like I was just in the way.

I froze, my fingers tightening around my books as I stood in the hallway. My shoulder brushed the locker behind me as I tried to step aside quickly.

“Sorry,” I muttered and instead of a reply or ignore, I got laughter instead.

“Did you hear that?” Philip’s voice, light and amused. “He said sorry like we actually care.”

Heat rushed to my face, but I kept my head down.

“Hey, look at him,” Cole added, stepping closer. I could feel his presence before I even saw him. “You gonna cry or something?”

“I’m not…” I started, but my voice came out like a squeak.

“Speak up,” another voice cut in.

Asher, I didn't have to look up to know that was him. I could recognize his voice from a mile away.

“Pathetic,” he said. There was the usual coldness in them like the ones he normally used for his fan girls to push them away.

“Leave him,” August muttered from somewhere behind them, though it didn’t sound like he meant it. More like he was bored already.

Philip laughed again. “Why? He’s entertaining.”

A hand shoved my shoulder, not hard but enough to make me stumble back into the lockers. The metal screamed loudly behind me, drawing a few looks from people passing by but no one stopped.

No one ever stopped or they would be their next target.

“Careful,” Cole said, mock concern in his voice. “Wouldn’t want to break the omega.”

Their laughter increased.

My chest felt tight, my throat even tighter, but I forced myself not to react, not to give them anything more.

“Look at his face,” Philip added. “He’s trying so hard not to cry.”

“I’m not crying,” I said, a little louder this time, even though my voice still shook.

“Yeah?” Asher stepped closer. I could feel him right in front of me now. “Then look at me when you say it.”

I couldn’t.

Instead I stared at the floor, my grip tightening on my books.

“Thought so,” he said quietly.

Another shove came as they walked past me while acting like they were trying to avoid dirt from staining their expensive shoes.

Like I was trash.

The memory hit so hard it almost felt like I was back there again, pressed against the lockers, heat in my face, laughter in my ears. I blinked and the bar came back into focus.

No, I wasn’t that person anymore.

I straightened slightly in my seat, exhaling slowly, pushing the memory down where it belonged.

That was the past, and I was no longer that pathetic loser. I had transferred schools, worked really hard to get into the hockey team and that paid off, got an athletic scholarship ride to college and more opportunities to stand against those four bastards who were three now since the other one was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” Mark nudged me again. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said shortly.

But I wasn’t, because they were moving toward us. I forced myself not to look up as they strode towards our table while wearing those stupid smiles, taking another slow sip of my drink like I didn’t care.

The chair scraped besides me, followed by a voice.

“Well, well,” Philip said, stopping right by our table. “Didn’t expect to see you guys still out after that loss.”

I looked up then, meeting his gaze.

Up close, he looked exactly the same. Same face, same eyes and same stupid confidence.

“You should worry about your own table,” I replied calmly.

He grinned. “We are. This is just a quick stop.”

A few of his teammates laughed behind him.

Cole stood slightly behind Philip, his eyes on me now, sharper than before, like he was trying to place something. My stomach tightened at the possibility of him recognizing me, but I didn’t react.

He couldn't for the three consecutive times we've played against each other, and they had beaten our asses so he couldn't recognize me now.

“You play rough,” Philip continued, tilting his head slightly. “I like that.”

“Then you should try keeping up,” I said.

That got a small reaction, a few raised brows. Philip’s smile didn’t drop, but his eyes changed just a little.

“Confident,” he said.

“Realistic,” I corrected.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, tension sitting right there between us, threatening to snap if nothing was done. Then Philip reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, like we were friends, like he had the fucking right.

“Relax,” he said. “No need to be tense.”

I looked down at his hand, then back up at him.

“Take your hand off me,” I said, his fingers tightened for just a second.

Then he laughed and pulled back. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Sure,” I replied.

Cole was still watching me, his gaze lingering a second too long before he finally looked away.

“Come on,” Philip said, turning slightly. “Let’s not waste time here.”

They started to move off, but just before he turned fully, Philip looked at me again, slower this time, like something was bothering him. Then he shrugged it off and walked away, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“They were looking at you weird,” Mark said quietly.

“Let them,” I replied.

He frowned slightly but didn’t push.

I stood up, grabbing my bottle before setting it down again. “I’ll be back.”

“Where..?”

“Bathroom.”

I didn’t wait for more questions.

The bar felt louder as I moved through it, the music blasting through the speakers and the air filled with heats and sweats. By the time I reached the hallway leading to the restrooms, I was already rolling my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension still sitting under my skin.

It didn’t go away.

I stepped into the bathroom, the noise dropping behind me, and went straight into one of the stalls. I stayed there a moment longer than needed, just breathing, letting the quiet settle around me.

“Get a grip,” I muttered under my breath.

This was nothing.

They didn’t even know who I was, it's going to be fine. And besides I wasn't that pushover they once knew, or that stupid boy who had gotten so brave to confess his crush to one of them and was publicly humiliated in front of the whole school.

Fuck! I was different now, no glasses or extra kilos.

I finished up and stepped out of the stall, already turning toward the door to rejoin my team when I saw someone was standing there.

Blocking the way.

August.

Up close, he looked worse than before, his eyes unfocused, his stance slightly off, like he was already drunk enough not to care about anything around him.

“Move,” I said, my voice was annoyed. I didn't have strength to deal with all the Ice fuckers this night, I have to wrap up here and head back home.

August didn’t.

Instead, he stared at me, like he was trying to see something that wasn’t there.Then suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

“Hey…”

I didn’t get to finish.

He pulled me forward hard, my back hitting the wall behind me before I could react properly, and before I could push him away, his mouth crashed against mine.

For a second, I froze.

Then I shoved at his chest, trying to push him off, but he didn’t move, his grip too strong, his body pressing me against the wall like I weighed nothing.

“Get off me,” I snapped, turning my head away, but he followed, his mouth dragging across my jaw, then down to my neck.

My hands pushed harder, but it didn’t seem to budge him. He was stronger, though drunk, he was still a hell of a man than I was.

“Stop,” I said, trying so hard to stop my scent from spiralling over the sudden surge of emotions that was now running wild inside of me.

Fuck! I didn't have my suppressants with me and this bastard wasn't listening.

Instead, he tightened his hold, his face pressed against my neck like he was searching for something, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered suddenly, his voice low and rough. “Gigi… I’m sorry…”

I froze.

What the actual fuck?

“I didn’t mean it,” he went on, his grip not loosening. “Don’t… don’t break up with me…”