YOU'RE ENJOYING THE ATTENTION, ENJOY IT WHILE IT LASTS

Chapter 2

Max

I raised my brow at Ace's retreating figure but said nothing. What was there to say? He'd already disappeared into the crowd.

"Don't mind him, you know he has mood swings," Freya said with a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Ace Stiles was weird as hell.

I nodded and pulled Freya closer, kissing her again, deeply.

"I have a gift for you later," she whispered against my ear, her voice taking on that sultry tone that usually made my pulse race. Her hands roamed over my sweaty jersey, fingertips tracing the numbers on my chest.

"I can't wait, baby." I kissed her again, savoring the moment. I loved kissing Freya. It was like my favorite habit—comforting, easy, something I'd been doing for so long it felt automatic.

"Max! Come over here!" Coach's voice boomed across the court, cutting through our moment. I already knew what this meant. Another manager, another sponsor, another person trying to fast-track my future.

"I need to go. See you tomorrow?" I kissed her one more time, lingering for just a second before turning to my parents.

My mom wrapped me in another fierce hug, her small frame shaking with leftover excitement. "Mijo, I'm still excited and shaking from that last shot!"

Dad clapped my shoulder hard enough to make me stumble. "Proud of you, son."

I reached over to ruffle Sofia's hair, and she immediately swatted my hand away with an annoyed grunt that made me laugh out loud.

"Take care of yourself, champ, and make sure you're home before midnight!" Dad called out as I walked away, his stern voice carrying that familiar parental warning.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. I always got home before midnight—well, usually. But not tonight. Tonight I was going to celebrate with my teammates until I couldn't stand up anymore. We'd earned it.

Coach introduced me to some guy in an expensive suit who immediately started talking about management opportunities and professional contracts. I took his business card and gave him the same polite response I'd given dozens of others: I'd think about it.

The truth was, I'd already thought about it plenty. I didn't want to rush into the professional leagues yet.

I wanted to earn my spot in the NBA the right way, and that meant getting better first. That's why I'd applied to Elite Sports University in the first place, to learn, to grow, to make sure I was ready when the time came.

As I walked toward the locker room, people kept stopping me. Girls waved from a distance, smart enough to keep their space since everyone knew Freya was possessive as hell.

Not that I blamed her. Being the girlfriend of the most popular guy on campus couldn't be easy.

The moment I stepped into the locker room, my teammates erupted in cheers.

"Man, that shot was insane!" Dennis, my best friend since freshman year, jumped up and started mimicking my shooting motion in the most dramatic way possible. Everyone cracked up as he added sound effects and everything.

"You were brilliant too. That assist was perfect," I said, pulling him into a bro hug. But something in his expression made me pause.

"Dude, you stink. Go shower, then we'll all head out for the after-parrey," he said, putting on his ridiculous Italian accent for the last word.

I grinned and headed for the showers. The hot water felt amazing on my sore muscles, washing away the sweat and tension from the game. When I came out, I threw on a clean black jersey and some loose pants.

"Don't tell me that's what you're wearing to the party," Miles said, looking at me like I'd shown up in pajamas.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"This is an after-party, not a tea party. Actually, who even wears that to a tea party?" Miles laughed at his own joke, and a few guys chuckled along.

I just stood there. Nothing about this was funny to me.

"At least Rivera can wear the simplest clothes and still look good enough that your girlfriend sends him love letters," Dennis shot back, wiping the smirk right off Miles' face.

Miles jumped up like he was ready to fight, and I felt that familiar tension creep into my shoulders.

"Okay, it's fine. I thought we were all just joking around," I said calmly, but my voice carried just enough edge to make Miles sit back down.

He might run his mouth, but he knew better than to actually cross me. We all remembered what happened last year when he came at me over some girl who'd been asking me out.

I'd warned him not to waste his time, but then he said something about my mom that made me see red. One punch sent him flying, and I got suspended for two weeks.

That was my first and last time in the dean's office for something that stupid.

I grabbed my bag and patted Dennis on the shoulder as I headed out.

"What about the party?" he called after me.

"Call me when you're ready," I said without turning around. There was somewhere I needed to be first. Someone I needed to see.

The cemetery was quiet except for the soft rumble of my bike's engine as I parked near the entrance. I walked the familiar path to the headstone that read "Maximus Rivera" in bold letters.

"Hey, Grandps," I said, setting down the white roses I'd picked up from the flower shop on the way. "I did it, just like you always said I would. I really wish you could have been there to see me lift that trophy."

I settled onto the grass beside his grave, not caring about the dampness seeping through my jeans.

"Can you believe I won it with that shot you taught me? Remember when you used to make me practice from way out there, and I'd complain it was too far? You'd just smile and say, 'Mijo, when the moment comes, you'll be ready.'"

My throat tightened. "I missed you so much today, especially during that final timeout. I kept thinking about what you'd tell me to do."

I stayed there as the sun disappeared behind the trees, telling him about practice, about the season, about everything I'd been holding inside. I didn't realize how dark it had gotten until my phone buzzed with a text from Dennis.

Time to go.

"I have to head out now, but I'll be back soon, okay? I love you, Grandpa." I pressed my hand to the cool stone before walking back to my bike.

The after-party was already in full swing when I arrived at the frat house. Music pounded through the walls, and I could hear people shouting and laughing from the street.

As soon as I walked in, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, everyone cheering and patting me on the back.

Dennis climbed onto a table and launched into some long speech about how I'd brought the team to victory—the same stuff I'd heard after every big game. I smiled and nodded, letting my eyes wander across the packed room.

That's when I saw him.

Ace Stiles stood in the corner, a red solo cup in his hand, those ice-blue eyes fixed on me with that same bored, hateful look from earlier. My smile almost faltered, but I forced myself to look away.

What was he even doing here? This was our celebration, our moment. Why couldn't he just stay away?

I spent the next hour trying to forget about him, drinking beer and laughing with my teammates. But every time I glanced toward that corner, he was still there, watching me like I was some kind of science experiment gone wrong.

After my fourth beer, I needed to use the bathroom. The alcohol made me stumble slightly as I pushed through the crowd, people calling my name and trying to get my attention. I was almost to the hallway when I saw him coming out of the men's room.

His massive frame filled the hallway, his scent hitting me hard. My birthmark flared, and that thing in my chest roared, making my hands shake.

My steps faltered for just a second, but then I forced myself to keep walking. I wasn't going to let Ace Stiles intimidate me. Not tonight.

I tried to walk past him like he didn't exist, like he was just another face in the crowd.

"You're enjoying the attention," his voice cut through the music and laughter, cold with spite. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Beta."

The words hit me as I felt a shiver run down my spine. Not from cold, but from something else, something that felt almost like fear.

I turned around, ready to ask him what the hell he meant by that, but he was already gone. Vanished into the crowd like he'd never been there at all.

I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding harder than it had during the championship game. What did he mean? Enjoy what while it lasts? My career? My relationship with Freya? My happiness?

I shook my head and pushed into the bathroom, trying to focus on the simple task at hand as I splash cold water on my face, trying to calm down. But as I stood there, my mind kept circling back to Ace's words, to the way he'd looked at me, with the usual disgust.

I stared at my reflection, my brown eyes had turned darker. That thing in my chest wouldn’t settle, and my birthmark throbbed like a warning.

What did I ever do to him? Why does he hate me that much?