A Game of Jealousy

This would be the boldest move I would make in my life. To walk past the phone cameras, the flashlights and all these rich, snobby teenagers arm-in-arm with our school's biggest rival player, Mason Vane, all to get back at Ashton.

I sucked in a deep breath. Mason and I were in one of the empty bathrooms because I was having a panic attack.

“Relax,” he chuckled. “Breathe… shit, one would think I was walking you down the aisle.”

“You wish!” I bit back instantly, trying to hide my nervousness. My palms were getting clammy already.

His eyes roved over me, making me uncomfortable.

“What?” I snapped.

“Oh, nothing.” He gave that cocky grin of his as he popped a mint into his mouth. “Just that you look like an angel today.”

Under different circumstances, his compliment might have flustered me. But Mason had a talent for making sincerity and sarcasm sound exactly alike.

“Ha ha ha. Very funny,” I deadpanned. “And you look like the devil himself… as always.”

“Touché.” He grinned, but his eyes never left me.

I shifted uncomfortably.

Once again, my hair wasn't in pigtails, and I didn't wear my glasses. Granted, I was half-blind without them, but also, I needed to look hot for this to work out perfectly.

And hot I looked. Taking a glance at the mirror, my eyes wandered over my blue summer dress, with a halter neckline.

I wore a pearly necklace, the one 'trust-fund step-daddy' bought for my birthday last year, and I never wore it after I googled and found out the price.

It was more expensive than our former apartment rent. He got Hunter a Rolex watch, which he wore every day.

I wore my hair loose over my shoulders and dabbed light makeup across my face.

But now, I was getting a little sweaty and tense because I knew they would all be there: Briar, Ashton, Hunter… heck, Hunter would murder me for not taking his advice of avoiding Mason.

“Mason, maybe we should call the plan quits,” I said, a worried frown on my face.

“Listen, Gabbriette,” he held my shoulders. “You wanted to get back at your crush… or whatever. Remember why you wanted this in the first place. I want to prove that I'm not gay, and also get the satisfaction of seeing that asshole break.”

“That's easy for you to say,” I rolled my eyes. “You're Mason Vane.”

Notorious, outspoken, unapologetic and completely unbothered by rules. 

I'd spent most of my life being the girl who followed the rules, kept her head down, and tried not to attract the wrong kind of attention.

I hated that Ashton was making me feel like I had to do this.

I could hear the crowd outside get wilder. The players were probably already arriving.

“Ready or not.” 

Huh?

Mason pushed me out of our hiding spot and grabbed my hand; we walked past the crowd of people. 

I noticed the glares of horror, the gasps, the whisperings, but for some reason, I could feel my confidence rising.

Suddenly, I felt all the sports cameras flashing and phone lights trained on us. This would be the next new buzz, and boy, was I ready for it.

“Act natural,” Mason said in a low tone, so only I could hear. “He's watching.”

My eyes drifted to the other side of the arena, and sure enough, there he was. 

Ashton Evander, in his full football jersey, glaring at us with a look I'd never seen in his eyes before. His fists were balled tightly at his sides, and a vein in his neck throbbed so violently that I thought it would burst.

And then I had the craziest idea.

“Kiss me,” I whispered to Mason.

Confusion flashed in his eyes for a brief moment.

Then, without another word, he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me. My first kiss.

It felt odd in a good way; my lips were tingling, and I could taste the mint from his mouth.

By the time he pulled away, I was breathless, and I saw mortified glances in our direction.

The whistle shrieked as the referee signaled that it was game time.

I walked to the student stands, wearing a poker face and trying to ignore the stares.

The game began. The Wolves versus the Titans. But to me, it was quarterback Ashton versus quarterback Mason.

I spotted Ashton, and gone was his cool, controlled, nonchalant demeanor, and in its place was a look filled with passion and intensity.

Then something I never anticipated happened.

And it all happened so fast.

In the first half, Mason scrambled downfield with the ball. Ashton came barreling toward him, and although he had every chance to make a clean tackle, he drove his shoulder into Mason with enough force to send him crashing hard onto the turf.

‘Oof,’ someone winced painfully as the crowd erupted in mixed voices.

I got up from my seat in the stands, watching in stunned silence.

Mason lay on the field, rolling in pain while Ashton stared at him, panting and furious.

Then Ashton’s eyes drifted toward me, and for the first time, I felt like I was no longer invincible to him.

The paramedics rushed onto the field with a stretcher, carefully placing Mason on it before wheeling him away for medical attention.

The referee's whistle pierced the air. A flag flew onto the turf as he pointed at Ashton. “You're ejected!”

With a defiant look on his face, Ashton walked off the field toward the bleachers and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me out of the stadium.

“Ouch, what are you doing, Ashton? You're hurting me!” I yelled as he pulled me away.

Ashton didn't speak until we reached an empty corridor away from the crowd.

He released my arm, but before I could step away, he moved in front of me, blocking my path.

His chest rose and fell rapidly. His jaw was clenched, and his blue eyes burned with an anger I'd never seen directed at me before.

"What the hell is going on with you, Gabby?" he said, his eyes on mine. “I thought you were a virgin.” 

And at that moment, I forgot to breathe…

I could feel my heart thrumming in my chest as I watched his eyes devour me, his warm breath fanning my parted lips.

Ashton Evander.

His fingers tangled in my hair, and then I felt his lips on mine—at first, slow, then filled with passion, and I let out a strangled moan.

This was bad. I wasn't supposed to be feeling my brother's best friend's boner pressed up against my thighs, my tongue tangled with his.

I'd spent years aching for his attention; now he struggled not to look at me with raw, undeniable desire.

Suddenly, I pulled away from him, holding my ground and refusing to back down.

“Why Gabby?” he said. “Of all people, why him? Why Mason?”

I scoffed. “I can be with whoever I want to be; you don't own me. So I ask you, Ashton—why not him?”

"Because Mason is my cousin. He's the one."

My blood ran cold.

Ashton's cousin.

The very cousin Hunter had warned me never to get involved with.

I stared at Ashton, my pulse hammering.

Then he leaned closer, his eyes burning into mine.

"Now tell me, Gabby. Are you using him to get back at me, or have you always wanted him?"