Six

CHAPTER 6: ELLIOT'S POV

The entire arrangement was completely absurd.

I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop open, staring at video footage of our upcoming opponent’s defensive line, but I hadn't absorbed a single thing in twenty minutes.

A surrender bet, a game where the first person to fall in love loses everything.

It was ridiculous, childish, and completely insane. The very thought of falling in love with Adrian Kessaro, a loud, impulsive, hot-headed brute who had tormented me for fifteen years was mathematically impossible.

I didn't love him, I hated him. I hated the way he breathed, the way he occupied space, and the arrogant, smirk filled look he gave me every time he thought he had the upper hand.

I wasn't going to let his childish games distract me. I wanted that captaincy, and if playing Adrian's stupid, twisted mind game was what it took to make him step down, I was going to win. I just needed to stay detached, stay focused, and let his own recklessness ruin him.

The bathroom door upstairs opened, followed by the heavy sound of footsteps coming down the wooden staircase.

I kept my eyes glued to my laptop screen, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking up. I heard his bare feet padding across the hardwood floor, stopping right beside my stool.

"Still analyzing film, Sorelli?" Adrian’s voice was lower than usual, smooth, lazy, and obnoxious.

I finally looked up, fully intending to tell him to move, and was met with the sight of Adrian leaning against the counter without a shirt on. Sweat was still drying on his skin, his chest bare, his hair damp from a shower.

It was classic Adrian—arrogant, attention seeking, and utterly shameless. He actually thought showing off his body was going to shake me. It was so transparent it was almost pathetic.

"Put a shirt on, Adrian," I said, my tone flat, unbothered, and dripping with annoyance. "Nobody wants to look at you while they're working."

Instead of backing off, Adrian leaned down over the counter. He crowded into my space, trapping me between his body and the table, trying to use his size to intimidate me.

He reached out, his big, warm hand sliding directly over mine where it rested on the laptop trackpad.

"You know," Adrian whispered, his face dropping close to mine, his damp hair brushing my temple, "if you spent half as much time looking at me as you do at that screen, you might actually learn how to read a real play."

I didn't panic, I didn't flinch. I just felt a surge of pure, irritating annoyance at his desperate attempt to fluster me. He really thought a little physical contact was going to break fifteen years of mutual hatred.

"Get your hand off me, Adrian," I said coldly, staring him dead in the eye.

Adrian let out a low chuckle, leaning closer until his lips were near my ear. "Why? Does my touch make it hard to concentrate, Elliot? I thought you had absolute control over your emotions."

I didn't pull my hand away. Doing that would give him the satisfaction of thinking he had affected me. Instead, I leaned into his space, bringing my face millimeters from his, letting a cold, mocking smile touch my lips.

"You're trying way too hard, captain," I whispered back, my voice laced with disdain. "If this cheap, shirtless routine is your best attempt at a mind game, you're going to lose your jersey faster than you think."

Adrian’s smirk instantly vanished. The confident, playful look in his eyes cracked, replaced by a flash of genuine, sharp irritation.

His grip on my hand tightened for a brief second before he abruptly let go, pulling back and taking a step away from the table. He dragged a hand through his damp hair, glaring at me as if I had just slapped him.

"We'll see about that, Sorelli," Adrian muttered, turning on his heel and marching toward the living room. "The night is still young."

I turned back to my laptop, completely unmoved, and casually wiped the back of my hand against my pants.

He thought he could play games with me. But if Adrian Kessaro wanted a war of endurance, he was going to learn very quickly that I couldn't be broken by something as simple as his ego.