Tatum's POVThe sun streaming in through the curtains, forcing my eyes open unwillingly with a sleeping Nico beside me, his cheek pressed against the pillow and his long lashes resting on top of his cheekbones, reminds me of the first time I woke up in his bed. The memory is still raw, and I can't help but smile. This is something I could get used to. I roll onto my side – my body aching from the activities the night before – and watch Nico sleep peacefully beside him. I'm momentarily distracted by the way his mouth forms a little o, his breaths coming out in short, soft waves. It's a stark contrast to the dominant man I witnessed the previous night. Remembering the words Nico said to me last night sends a shiver down my spine and I can't stop the smile tugging at the corner of my lips. I made the right decision to pursue this type of relationship with Nico. He knows what he's doing, and how to make me feel good. I trust him with my body. I peer over my shoul
Tatum's POVAfter grabbing breakfast with my dad earlier in the day, and then spending the rest of it exploring San Francisco with Sammie, it was time to leave for the game. Thankfully, we got a hotel nearby the stadium, so Dad was able to drive by from where he was staying and pick us up. "Are you nervous about the game tonight?" I ask from the front seat, turning my head to look at him. "Do you think the Cats will win?" "I have faith in the team," Dad responds, turning his head to briefly smile at me before looking back at the road, keeping an eye on the traffic. "The Cats and Raiders have had a long history of being rivals, so I'm sure the guys are fired up and ready to go out onto the diamond and kick some a*s. Sorry for my language." "Why is there so much history between them?" Sammie asks from the backseat, curiosity evident in her voice. "Well…" Dad says, his words trailing off as if he's trying to find the best way to explain the history to us withou
Phoenix's POVI groan as I rub my temples with my fingers, trying to ease the ache that is making my head pound. Not even taking Advil has been able to relieve the dull ache throbbing behind my eyes. The mound of paperwork on my desk hasn't helped how stressed out and annoyed I feel either. The feeling stems from what happened over the weekend and now it has followed me into Monday, which is the worst day of the week to be off my game. A lot of my time is spent catching up on work emails, following up with the board team on the new products or flavors to make sure they're on track, filing paperwork, and then having to attend a meeting with the marketing team. It's the busiest day of the week and all I can think about is how I feel like such a dick for the way I treated Tatum. Since leaving my room on Saturday morning, the feeling has been eating me inside. Images of Tatum looking sad as she walked out of the room haven't stopped flashing through my mind. I want to kick my
Tatum's POVDo you know the song "I Don't Like Mondays" by The Boomtown Rats? It's the theme song of my life right now. The lyrics have been replaying repeatedly in my head since the moment I walked on campus this morning and was faced with the dreaded classes that make me want to rip my hair out. The song has a more sinister meaning behind it, but the only lyrics I can focus on are "I don't like Mondays". Reminding myself that this is the last semester I'll have to complete doesn't make me feel any better about the situation or help improve productivity. If anything, it makes me want to curl into a ball and wait for the rest of the semester to pass me by and pray that someone kind enough will complete my assessments for me. But that would be wishful thinking. I sigh, leaning my chin on my hand as I stare across the room at the professor standing in front of the whiteboard that displays the PowerPoint he's reading from. While the content makes sense to me, I have no
Tatum's POV"God, I hate this," I groan, dropping my head forward to rest on my desk in front of my laptop. Learning a degree I'm not passionate about is already hard enough, let alone having to complete the assignments that make me want to cry every time my fingers touch the keyboard. I'd much rather be working on my novel than writing an essay about something that I care very little about. My eyes scan the screen, taking in the half-written essay that is due tomorrow morning that I only started working on an hour ago. I've made good progress since starting, but I can feel myself hitting a wall very quickly. And yes, I like leaving assessments to the last minute because oddly enough, I work very well under the pressure of a tight deadline. The longer I stare at the cursor flickering on the page where I should be starting a new paragraph, the more I can find myself getting frustrated and wishing I was doing anything other than this damn assessment. I sigh, pu
Tatum's POVAs usual on a Friday night, Mario's is bouncing with music and patrons as the regulars leave for the night and the partygoers looking to drink and dance all night begin to file in. Luckily for me, Al always has two seats reserved for me at the bar because coming here each week has become my new routine. Well, mine and Nico's new routine. Because of our busy schedules – mostly Nico's – we can only find time to see each other on a Friday night where we share a drink or two at Mario's before we head back to Nico's place. It's a routine I have grown to love over the past few weeks because I find myself missing him when he's not around. I don't know if I miss him because I feel something more for him or because I enjoy his company, and his bed, and always want to be around him. It's easier to tell myself that I'm just insanely attracted to him and that's why I always want to be around him. For the sake of our no strings attached relationship, it's just easier
Tatum's POVJax turns the both of us to face Nico who is standing behind us. His face is twisted into annoyance, his brows turned down as his sharp eyes look between Jax and me. Oh, sh*t. I had forgotten about the rivalry between the Cats and Raiders. But I didn't think the two of them had their own rivalry. Jax raises a brow, an amused smile touching his lips. "Your girl, Phoenix?" My eyes turn down to look at Nico's hands, his knuckles turning white from the pressure of his fingernails digging into the palm of his hands. His gaze is sharp and his jaw is clenched hard, making his jawline sharp enough to slice through paper. "I won't repeat myself," Nico hisses through clenched teeth. Jax's grip around my shoulders tightens. "Last time I checked, you're not the type of guy who dates girls, or are you a changed man now?" "That's none of your f*cking business," Nico snaps, taking a menacing step forward. "Don't make me beat your a*s like I did last ti
Tatum's POVBeep. Beep. Beep. I drag my eyes toward the beeping noise, taking in the plethora of machines beside my parents' bed attached to my fragile mother lying in the large king-sized bed, looking as small as a puppy would in such an ample space. Since my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer at stage three almost two years ago, I have become accustomed to the machines beeping throughout the night, haunting me as I lie awake in bed wondering what my life would be like with my mom standing beside me as I graduated college, got married, and had my first child. It fills me with rage knowing that she won't be around long enough to witness those monumental moments in my life that every mother and daughter should get to experience together. I know I'll have my dad beside me, but there is just something different about having your mom for those moments too. Watching my mom slowly lose her ability to eat, walk around the house without needing to sit down from lac