𝐆𝐈𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎, a young girl who's never known stability. Raised by a reckless, unstable mother, she spent her childhood caught between drug runs and police raids, ruining her right for a normal childhood. One night when her mother go...
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The ball shoots across the grass, Luca chases after it like his life depends on it. I shift on the cold bleachers, pulling Damon's hoodie tighter around me.
My eyes wander over the wide green field and land on number sixty seven. Nic.
He's already moving into position, weaving between players like he's got the whole play mapped out in his head. For a second, he hangs back, waiting, and then the ball shoots his way.
He takes it clean, quick, two steps, a sharp cut past a defender, and then he's gone. The goalie barely has time to shift before Nic's foot connects, sending the ball rocketing into the back of the net.
Whistles erupt and the team booms.
But his eyes flick up toward the bleachers. In my direction.
Pale grey eyes meet mine, still noticeable despite the distance between us.
I don't even think before I send him a small smile and a wave, practically a twitch of my fingers. But I know he sees me. Nic smirks.
Heat rushes straight to my cheeks, and I can feel myself blushing like an loser. I duck my head a little, pretending to adjust the sleeve of Damon's hoodie, hoping no one around me notices.
Oh my, kill me. Why the hell am I blushing for gods sake.
The only reason I'm even here is because Ace bailed. Something about a last minute work shift, an emergency he couldn't get out of. He'd sounded annoyed when he called, like I was the one ruining his day, and then he just hung up before I could argue.
I tug my brother's hoodie tighter, like maybe it can swallow me whole. My cheeks feel hot even though the air's chilly.
It's been an entire week since I last saw Mason. Other than my classes, we've stayed out of each other's way. It's better like this.
I had expected Damon to be angry with me, to completely shut me out again like before. But that wasn't the case.
While he doesn't outright make an effort to talk to me or anything like that, he's not going out of his way to make it look like he hates me. Things are just weird between us now. Like he finally notices me but not in the way I wanted. More like watchful, curious.
The cheers on the field rise again, pulling me back. I shove myself up from the bleachers and grab my phone. Passing the overly joyous cheerleaders practicing on the side of the field, I make my way to the bathroom.
The hall under the stands is cooler, quieter, the fluorescent lights buzzing above me. I splash water on my face at the sink, glaring at my reflection. My cheeks are still pink, traitorous.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, groaning under my breath. I need to get a grip.
I leave the bathroom but before I can start heading back to the stands, my eyes drift out across the parking lot.
