The Captain that was never mine
My eyes locked immediately on the guy front and center.
Brad Walker. Captain. Arms crossed, cocky smirk, messy dark hair, and those same piercing eyes that used to make teenage me weak. The ache in my chest sharpened for a moment before I forced it down.
“Anyway,” Kayla continued, oblivious, “we’ve got a game against Westfield tomorrow. You should come. It’s the perfect way to get thrown into the chaos.”
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally.
She stopped at a junction in the hallway. “My class is this way. Yours is straight down there, end of the hall. Sorry we’re not in the same one.”