[BOOK2]
Friendship built their world. Love will break it open. ❤️
*****
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
But I can't have her. Because the moment I admit that out loud, the moment I risk everything we've built, I could lo...
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I chuckle under my breath as I toss my phone onto the bench beside me.
Isla.
Fucking hell, she's cute when she's pretending not to be jealous. The way she threw in that little dig about the cheerleaders. Like I'd give a shit about any of them when I've got her.
She tries to act unbothered, but I can see right through it. And the fact that she actually wants to go to the gala? Yeah, that's a win for me. Because now I get to spend the night watching her walk around in some dress that's going to ruin me.
"Dude, you good?" Carter drops down onto the bench next to me, his towel hanging around his neck, his skin still glistening from his last set.
I stretch my arms over my head, smirking like a guy who just hit the jackpot. "Yeah. Just my girl being... very much my girl."
He snorts. "You're so fucking whipped, it's actually painful."
"Not even trying to deny it." I grab my water bottle and take a long sip, my grin refusing to die.
My thoughts are still on Isla. On how she thinks a bunch of girls in short dresses could distract me. Isla could show up wearing a goddamn trash bag and I'd still be spending the whole night making sure no one even breathes near her.
The gym's thick with the usual—sweat, testosterone, the clank of weights, the soft thud of cleats against the turf. A few guys finish their reps, the energy shifting when Coach's voice cuts through the air like a whip.
"Alright, listen up."
Silence rolls in fast. When Clarkson talks, you shut up and pay attention.
"We've got the annual gala in two weeks," he starts, arms folded like he's ready to call out anyone who looks like they're about to zone out. "I want every single one of you there. Suited. Clean-cut. On your best behavior. This is your future knocking. Don't be the idiot who doesn't answer."
A few nods. Some grunts. One guy coughs like he's trying to play off a hangover.
Coach's eyes narrow. "We've got some heavy hitters attending. Alumni. Scouts. Big names."
He lets that sit for a beat.
"Finnley Brookes. Atlético Madrid's head coach."
My stomach dips. I don't blink.
Someone mutters, "Theo's father-in-law."
Snickers ripple through the room. I roll my neck slowly, jaw tight.
Coach barrels on. "Kai Parker. He's running the Premier League U25 training camps."
That gets some actual impressed sounds. Even Carter raises his brows.
"And Charlie Davies. One of La Liga's top scouts."
Now everyone's alert. Phones are probably being Googled in their heads.
