Chapter 5

Cole

I have been hit harder on the field.

Full-speed tackles. Helmet-to-helmet collisions. One time, a linebacker nearly snapped me in half.

None of it compares to the absolute violence of Maya standing in my hallway in a red dress and looking at me like she wanted to run away and slap me at the same time.

That combination?

Lethal.

And I was this close—

This close—

To kissing her.

Then Coach Daniels showed up like the grim reaper in khakis.

Now I’m downstairs, standing in front of my entire team like I’m a criminal.

Coach’s arms are crossed.

His wife is beside him, looking deeply disappointed in all of us, like she’s witnessing the fall of civilization in real time.

The living room is silent except for someone’s stupid Bluetooth speaker still blinking in the corner like it didn’t just betray us.

Coach’s gaze lands on me.

“Ryder.”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrow.

“Do you know what time it is?”

I swallow.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know why I’m standing in my star quarterback’s living room on a Wednesday night while someone upstairs is screaming lyrics to a song about body shots?”

I pause.

“No, sir.”

Coach stares at me for a long, terrifying moment.

Then—

“I have a meeting with the athletic director tomorrow morning.”

Oh.

Oh, that’s worse.

“And,” he continues slowly, “I was driving by and saw approximately thirty students lined up outside this house like it was the gates of hell.”

Someone behind me coughs.

Coach’s eyes flick toward them.

“I will make every single one of you run until you see God.”

No one breathes.

Coach steps closer.

“And you,” he says, pointing directly at me, “are supposed to be the leader in this house.”

My jaw tightens.

“Yes, sir.”

His voice drops.

“Am I interrupting something, Ryder?”

The room goes deathly still.

I feel heat crawl up my neck.

Because the answer is…

Yes.

You interrupted me almost kissing the girl next door.

But I am not suicidal.

So instead I say—

“No, sir.”

Coach’s wife hums.

“That’s funny.”

Coach turns slightly. “What’s funny, Linda?”

She gestures toward my face.

“He looks like someone interrupted something.”

My teammates make choking noises.

Coach’s glare sharpens.

“Ryder.”

I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.”

Coach steps even closer.

“If I find out you’re being reckless—on the field or off it—I will bench you so fast your head spins.”

My stomach drops.

“Yes, sir.”

Coach holds my gaze for another moment.

Then he exhales sharply.

“Shut this down. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turns toward the rest of the room.

“And if I hear music from this house again before Friday…”

He pauses.

“…pray.”

Then he walks out.

His wife follows, still shaking her head like she’s reconsidering society.

The second the door closes, the room explodes.

“What the hell, Ryder?”

“Coach’s angry jacket is real!”

“Who tipped him off?!”

I don’t answer.

Because I’m already moving.

Straight back upstairs.

⸻

I take the steps two at a time, ignoring the guys calling after me.

I don’t care about the party anymore.

I don’t care about the house.

I care about one thing.

Maya.

When I reach the hallway, she’s still there.

Thank God.

She’s standing beside Bree, arms crossed, looking like she’s trying very hard to pretend her lips weren’t about to be on mine.

Bree looks delighted, like she feeds on emotional destruction.

Maya’s eyes flick to me.

My chest tightens.

I slow my steps, suddenly aware of how insane I must look.

Like a guy sprinting back to a girl he barely knows.

But I don’t stop.

I stop right in front of her.

Her voice is sharp.

“Is your coach gone?”

“Yeah,” I say, still catching my breath.

She exhales. “Good.”

I tilt my head.

“Were you worried about me?”

Her glare could cut steel.

“I was worried about your entire house getting arrested.”

I grin.

“Liar.”

Her cheeks flush.

Bree claps softly.

“Oh my God. He’s smiling at her like she’s a cupcake.”

Maya groans.

“Bree, stop.”

I glance at Bree.

“You’re still here.”

Bree smiles innocently.

“I live for moments like this.”

“I can tell.”

Maya points toward the stairs.

“I’m leaving.”

My stomach drops.

“No.”

Her brows shoot up.

“No?”

I step closer, lowering my voice.

“You can’t leave.”

She looks offended.

“I absolutely can.”

I swallow, forcing honesty out of my mouth before I lose my nerve.

“If you leave now…”

I pause.

“…I don’t get to finish what I started.”

Silence.

Maya’s breath catches.

Bree makes a sound like she’s witnessing the birth of a star.

Maya’s voice comes out quieter.

“What you started was stealing my pizza.”

I grin, unable to help it.

“That was step one.”

Her eyes narrow.

“And step two?”

I let my gaze drop to her lips.

Then back up.

“This.”

Her pulse visibly jumps.

Bree whispers loudly, “KISS HER.”

Maya snaps, “Bree!”

I don’t move yet.

I don’t push.

I just hold her gaze, giving her the choice.

Because Maya isn’t like the girls who throw themselves at me.

Maya is the kind of girl who makes me feel like I’m the one standing on unfamiliar ground.

And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.

But I know one thing.

I don’t want her disappearing back into that little house next door like she was just a fantasy in red.

So I murmur—

“Don’t disappear on me, sweetheart.”

And for the first time…

She doesn’t look annoyed.

She looks unsure.

Like maybe she’s about to make a mistake.

The same mistake I’m already making.