4: Tryouts and a Target

MIA

The first week of classes passed in a blur.

I threw myself into schoolwork. My days were filled with classes, reading, assignments and networking events for the business school. Anything to keep my mind off the disaster that was my personal life. Anything to avoid thinking about golden eyes and the way my skin had felt when Xavier touched me.

The only good thing was, I hadn't seen him all through. I told myself it was better that way. That whatever had happened that night in the gym stayed there.

Even as I said that, my eyes were always searching for him. In the dining hall, I’d scan the room while pretending to read. On the quad, where I’d take the long way to classes just in case. Every time I walked past the athletic complex, my heart would kick up a notch, anticipating.

By Wednesday night, I’d almost convinced myself I’d imagined the whole thing. The electricity. The way he’d looked at me like I was something precious and dangerous. The protective edge in his voice when he’d faced down David.

Then my phone buzzed during my Accounting 301 lecture.

Unknown: Tryouts. Thursday 4pm. You should be there.

I stared at the message for a solid thirty seconds, my heart doing something complicated in my chest. Excitement buzzed my skin, no matter how I tried to get myself to calm down.

He’d texted me. Which meant he’d gotten my number somehow. Which meant he’d been thinking about me too.

The girl next to me leaned over. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Fine,” I managed. “Just… surprised.”

Against every rational thought in the world telling me to delete the text and even forget about practice. I found myself typing back.

Me: How did you get my number?

Three dots appeared immediately.

Unknown: Team roster has all student athletes’ info. You registered your intent to try out.

Right. I’d filled out that form during orientation, back when I’d still believed I could have a normal college experience.

-----

I’d debated if I should go ahead with joining the team or just keep my head down and wait three months until I was forced to marry Silas. That thought somehow ended with me standing outside the gym in practice clothes on thursday, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I could see Xavier running drills with a group of hopefuls from the window. He moved like water, like his body understood the physics of the game in a way that defied explanation.

“First time trying out?” a girl next to me asked. She was tall and had a friendly smile.

“Yeah. Transfer student.”

“Cool. I’m Madison.” She gestured toward the gym. “Fair warning. Xavier’s tough but fair. He doesn’t care about your high school stats or your connections. If you can play, you’re in. If you can’t…” She shrugged. “There’s always intramurals.”

“Good to know.”

Another girl joined us, eyeing the gym with obvious appreciation. “God, he’s so hot.”

“And completely unavailable,” Madison added. “Trust me, half the team has tried. The answer is always no.”

“Maybe he’s just focused on basketball.”

“Or maybe he’s just not interested in relationships. Some guys are like that.” Madison checked her watch. “Come on, we should head in.”

Xavier’s eyes found mine the moment I walked through the door. That same electric charge that made my breath catch passed through and I lost my footing, which resulted in me almost tripping and falling on my face. Thankfully, Madison reached out and steadied me.

“Be careful.”

I swallowed, my attention returning to him just as he looked away, his expression shifting.

“Alright, everyone circle up,” His voice carried effortlessly across the gym, commanding attention without effort. “I’m Xavier Volkov, team captain. This is Falcon Grey, our point guard. We’re going to run you through some basic drills to evaluate your skills. Work hard, listen to instruction, and don’t be an asshole. Questions?”

The whole room went quiet.

“Good. Pair up for defense drills.”

I partnered with Madison. We ran through the exercises, defensive slides, closeouts, and help rotations. I could feel Xavier’s attention even when he was on the other side of the gym, coaching someone else. It was like a physical weight, pressing against my skin.

When he finally made his way to our group, my mouth went dry.

“Winston,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Show me your defensive stance.”

I demonstrated, falling into the position I’d practiced a thousand times.

Xavier circled me slowly. “Wider base,” he said, demonstrating the adjustment. “And keep your hands active, like this.”

He reached out to correct my position, his fingers brushing my wrist.

That same electricity shot through me. I could have sworn he felt it too because his jaw tightened. He stepped back quickly.

“Better,” he said, his voice slightly strained. “Madison, your turn.”

He moved on, but I could feel his awareness like a touch. Every time I glanced his way, I caught him watching me. And every time our eyes met, he’d look away first.

The tryout lasted two hours. By the end, I was drenched in sweat and my muscles were screaming. Not to brag but I’d been one of the strongest players there.

“Results will be posted Monday on the athletic department website,” Xavier announced. “Thanks for coming out.”

People filtered toward the locker rooms. I grabbed my bag, preparing to leave.

“Winston. Hold back a second.”

I froze. Madison shot me a curious look before heading out with the others.

Xavier waited until the gym was empty. Then he turned to me, that professional mask slipped and I saw something dark in his eyes before he locked it down again in a second.

“You did good,” he said. “Better than most of the people who tried out. You’ll make the team.”

“Is that why you asked me to stay?” my throat felt scrubbed raw.

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. It was the first time I’d seen him look anything other than completely controlled. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. After the other night.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did they come back?”

“Not yet.” I shifted my bag on my shoulder. But they will. Just as soon as my father runs out of patience or Silas pushes him harder.

“Mia—”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw the other night, but I don’t need saving, okay? I have a plan. I’m handling it.”

Xavier studied me. “What kind of plan?”

“The kind that doesn’t involve dragging other people into my mess.” I headed for the door. “But thank you. For Monday night. And for the text. I appreciate it.”

“Mia, wait.”

I stopped, my hand on the door.

“If you need help,” Xavier said quietly, “if things get worse—”

“I won’t,” I cut him off. “But I appreciate the offer.”

I pushed through the door before he could say anything else. I refused to acknowledge the part of me that wanted to turn around and tell him everything. About my father and Silas and the engagement I never wanted. About feeling trapped and desperate and so tired of being strong.

Before I could admit that I’d felt safer in that gym with him than I had anywhere else in years.

The evening air was cool against my overheated skin as I walked toward the parking lot. My necklace felt warm against my chest, almost pulsing with heat.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown: Be careful, Mia. Your new friend doesn’t know what he’s getting into. It would be a shame if something happened to him because of you. -S

My blood turned to ice. I looked around me like a crazy person. As though I would find Silas standing in the middle of the hallway.

He was watching me. Or he has someone doing it for him and whoever that was had seen me with Xavier.

I became more paranoid as I headed to the parking lot. Was he here? Had he followed me?

Another text came through.

Unknown: Three months, sweetheart. The clock is ticking. Don’t make me come get you. You won’t like what happens if I do.

I got in my car and locked the doors with shaking hands. Trying to pretend I wasn’t absolutely terrified that Silas knew about Xavier. And now he had a target on his back and he didn’t even know.