Chapter 5

Kellan’s Pov

The sound of Sasha's chair scraping against the floor and her sudden bolt out of the coffee shop echoed in my head long after she was gone.

I had watched her rush across the street, climb into her car, and drive away into the dark night. Her words about her family falling apart, about a scandal and a life destroyed overnight, hung heavily in the air between the empty coffee mugs.

She thought I was just another spoiled rich kid who never had to worry about a thing. She thought my life was a fairy tale.

For the first time since Marcus proposed that stupid billionaire bet, winning the money didn't matter to me anymore.

This wasn't about proving a point to my teammates, and it wasn't about my ego. It was about Sasha. I needed her to see that I wasn't just a face on a billboard or a last name with a trust fund. But sitting there alone in the quiet cafe, I realized something important: rushing her would ruin everything.

If I pushed too hard, she would just build her walls higher and shut me out forever. I had to play this smart. I had to earn her trust, piece by piece, without using my money, my fame, or any of my usual tricks.

The next morning, the sun was bright, but the air inside the West Wolves training facility felt tense. When Sasha walked through the heavy doors carrying her camera bag, she looked like a soldier walking into a battle zone. She kept her eyes straight ahead, her shoulders tight, and avoided looking directly at me.

I made sure to give her space. I didn't crowd her, I didn't tease her, and I didn't jump in front of her camera. I just went through my practice drills, keeping a close eye on her whenever I took a break on the bench.

And you know what? It drove her crazy.

During a water break in the afternoon, I was sitting on the bench wiping the sweat from my forehead when I felt a shadow fall over me. I looked up to see Sasha standing there with her hands on her hips, her dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, glaring down at me with pure suspicion.

"Alright, West," she said, her voice sharp and demanding. "What is your game today?"

I looked up at her, taking a slow sip from my water bottle, trying hard not to smile at how fiery she looked when she was confused. "My game? I am just resting between drills, Sasha. Is breathing a crime now too?"

"Don't play dumb with me," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yesterday at the coffee shop, you backed off right away when I got mad. And today, you are acting like a ghost. You aren't teasing me, you aren't trying to flirt, and you aren't making my job difficult. It is creeping me out.”

I set my water bottle down on the bench and stood up, towering over her just a little bit. I kept my voice calm and steady.

"I am just trying to respect your boundaries, Sasha. You made it pretty clear you don't want me bothering you. So I am backing off. Why does that make you so mad? Aren't you happy I am leaving you alone?"

She opened her mouth to snap back an answer, but the words got stuck in her throat. She blinked, her green eyes darting across my face like she was trying to solve a puzzle she couldn't figure out.

"I just... I don't trust it. People like you don't just change overnight."

"Maybe I am not trying to change," I said softly, stepping just a tiny bit closer. "Maybe I am just trying to figure out why you look at me like I am the enemy. Yesterday, when you started talking about your family... about what happened to you... you stopped yourself. Why?"

Sasha's expression froze. The fire in her eyes turned into instant ice. Her body went stiff, and she took a fast step backward, putting distance between us.

"That is none of your business, Kellan," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with anger and warning. "Some things are private. Just because we sat in a coffee shop for ten minutes doesn't mean you get to dig into my past. Stay out of it."

"Okay," I said instantly, holding up both hands in a peaceful surrender. "I'm sorry. I won't ask again."

She stared at me like she expected me to argue or push further, but when I just nodded and respected her boundary, she looked genuinely stunned.

Without another word, she turned on her heel, grabbed her camera tripod, and walked away.

That night, after practice, the team met up at our usual private lounge downtown. Marcus was sitting at the corner booth, sipping a drink, grinning like he owned the place. I walked over and slid into the vinyl booth across from him.

"Well?" Marcus asked, leaning forward with an amused smirk. "How is the great billionaire bet going, Captain? Have you managed to make the fierce Sasha Reed fall madly in love with you yet, or are you still striking out?"

"Shut up, Marcus," I muttered, shaking my head as I ordered a soda from the waiter. "It's going fine. It's just going to take a little longer than I thought. She's stubborn."

Marcus let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "No kidding, man! Everyone in the locker room knows Sasha is tougher than a brick wall. But let me tell you something, Kellan—making her notice you was never the real problem."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Then what is?"

"Making her trust you," Marcus said, his tone turning a little more serious for a second. "She hates wealthy athletes. She thinks we are all arrogant jerks who use people and throw them away. If you want to win this bet without using your money or your fame, you have to break down those walls. And honestly? I don't think you can do it."

I felt a flash of heat flare up in my chest. Nobody tells me what I can or cannot do.

"Watch me, Marcus. I'm going to win this bet."

Before Marcus could answer, my phone buzzed loudly against the dark wooden table. I looked down at the screen. It was a text message from Luke in our team group chat, reminding me with a laughing emoji that the three-month countdown for the bet had officially started today.

I stared at the group message, then looked down at my phone's contact list, scrolling until I saw Sasha's name.

Three months. That was all the time I had. If I kept taking things slow, we would still be playing the same game of cat and mouse at the end of the season.

It was time to step up my game. No money, no fancy cars, no celebrity status—just me, asking her to give me a real chance.

A slow, confident smile spread across my face. I didn't give myself time to second-guess it. I opened up a blank text thread to Sasha, typed out a single sentence, and hit send before my common sense could stop me.

“Tomorrow, you're going on a date with me.”

I tossed my phone back onto the table, my heart pounding with a crazy rhythm against my ribs.

The game was officially on, and there was no turning back now.