Chapter 5

Taylor POV

Aiden's jaw tightens.

The corridor light reflects off his cheekbone to create a harsh expression, making his face appear unyielding and dark.

The heat inside me starts to fade after I finally lashed out.

I turn my back to him while my leather jacket swings behind me as I sprint down the corridor.

The night air outside slams against me, sharp and cool.

No security guards are searching for me anymore, but I still slip through the shadows carefully until the stadium noise fades behind me.

My lungs burn as I push into a run, sneakers slapping against the cracked pavement.

My legs are trembling, but I don't slow down—not until I spot a familiar figure standing by her car, her phone screencasting a blue light across her face.

"Kiera!"

"Taylor!" She waves at me.

Kiera lowers her phone, eyes searching mine as I stumble closer. "Did you find Ella?" she asks, her voice quick and anxious.

"I did," I admit, breath still ragged. "But it didn't go well. She—she wouldn't listen. I don't know how I'm supposed to get the money back now." My shoulders sag in disappointment.

Reaching out, she rests a hand on my arm. "Hey. We'll figure it out," she tells me.

"Yeah I know, it's not over, I'll find another way," I reply.

"That's my girl."

"By the way, the man you just kissed—people found him online! He is Aiden Kincaid! Billionaire! Quarterback! Every sport lover girl's wet dream!" Kiera thrusts her phone toward me.

The screen shows a grainy replay of the kiss cam. My back is front and center, hair spilling down my jacket, while Aiden shows his jawline only.

I'm not a sport lover, but I heard Aiden Kincaid's name from Dylan before.

"How could they know he is Aiden Kincaid from just a jawline and a hat?" I doubted.

Kiera has already searched him up online. Looking at the pictures on G****e, I realize that the guy I kissed is really Aiden Kincaid.

I start searching the video on my own phone.

Only the back of my head is visible, which is a small mercy.

But the comment section burns worse than any stadium spotlight.

"Lucky girl—where do I sign up?"

"I wish it was me kissing Aiden"

My stomach twists. I'm torn between horror and disbelief.

People are actually envious of me?

"The billionaire star player has haters too though" Kiera scrolls down and shows me more of the comment section.

"Aiden Kincaid is just an arrogant prick."

"He only dates white blonde and his whole family disrespects poor people. Gross."

"Isn't he married?"

I have to say I agree more with the haters.

My chest still echoes with his cold voice from earlier.

Poor and greedy, he said.

"He's got zero respect for anyone but himself." I start typing my comment and send it out without even hesitating for a second.

Then I tap likes on every insult aimed at him.

Arrogant. Heartless. Fake.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Oh, speaking of drama—I found Ella and Dylan too,"

"What?" My head jerks up.

Kiera shoves her phone back at me, scrolling to a different feed.

There is also a video of Dylan kissing Ella. Then they both expose their faces to the camera, looking panicked.

There aren't many posts yet, but the headlines are eye-catching:

Celebrity marriages in meltdown.

Ella spotted with Dylan.

Aiden rumored with a mystery woman. Divorce on the horizon.

"People are saying it's like some reality show," Kiera explains.

My throat tightens. "But none of it's true. At least—not like that."

"Truth doesn't matter online," she says with a shrug. "Only the story people want to believe."

I scroll through, and find a new statement on his official page — a polished and professional announcement that he and Ella are divorcing, and it will be finalized within a week.

"Rich people don't fight dirty online. They fight with lawyers and PR teams, "Kiera says.

And she's right. Because when we check again a few hours later, almost every post mentioning me, Aiden, Ella, or Dylan is gone.

Just like that. He erased all the noise about the four of us.

When I finally get home that day, I realize my apartment feels emptier than before.

The scent of Dylan's cologne is slowly fading. And I notice gaps where his sneakers used to line the door, a shelf missing his watch box, drawers that slide too easily now.

He has been peeling himself away piece by piece and I didn't even notice.

I sink into my pink furry couch, with a wave of sadness pooling in my chest.

Even though I'm really angry at him, his absence still hurts.

Then my mind starts to drift to things that are more urgent.

Not Aiden, not Ella, not Dylan.

But my rent. My bills. My future.

But then—finally—something breaks the storm. An email. A job offer.

I have been sending out my resume for over three months, trying to get a full-time job in a higher ranking and well-equipped sports team. I believed it would be a vital step in my career.

I probably lost a lot today, but I finally got a job offer.

Not glamorous, not permanent, but real. A well-known team wants me. An internship as a team physiotherapist.

Thank God.

I clutch my phone to my chest, I feel so relieved. For once, I feel like the universe is giving me something instead of taking it away from me today.

I was asked to join a week later.

When my first day for that team finally came, I wake up early and put on my most presentable blazer to get ready for my new job.

Walking into the training facility, I immediately like how the building itself has a vibrant atmosphere: a combination of squeaking sneakers on shiny floors, the strong scents of antiseptic and sweat, and the distant sounds of voices in the hallways.

With my clipboard in hand, I follow the staff coordinator into a room that smells faintly of muscle rub and laundry detergent.

"You'll be starting simple," she says, gesturing toward the table set in the middle. "Warm-ups, relaxation massages, that kind of thing. First player is waiting."

I nod, forcing confidence into my spine.

This is it. My fresh start.

Then the door opens. My breath catches.

Aiden Kincaid walks in.

How could I forget it's HIS team?

Great now.

I managed to piss off my first client and my big boss even before my very first day.