Cold and Charisma (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Riley's Perspective

I don't even know when it happened.

When the scoffs I aimed at him stopped being real and started covering up the stupid little smile tugging at my mouth.

When the looks I told myself were annoyance lingered a second too long. When my fake disgust slowly softened around the edges until it wasn't protecting me anymore.

One day the cold front I'd built so carefully just... cracked.

And before I even realized it, every piece of it was melting, slipping, falling away — leaving me face-to-face with the truth I'd been avoiding: somewhere along the line, I stopped pushing him away and started wanting him close.

And you know what terrified me the most?

He saw it.

He saw a version of me I didn't show anyone — the one who lets his guard down for a second, the one who forgets he's supposed to hate him.

I found myself agreeing to be around him more often, almost without thinking. Missing the weight of his shoulder brushing mine. Missing the warmth of having him beside me.

Somehow, the idea of not having him there felt worse than anything I'd ever complained about.

The crazy part? Just a few weeks ago, I would've gagged at the thought. I would've cussed him out and told him to stay far, far away. But now... I can't imagine a day without him.

Archer Wilson — with his annoyingly charming smile, the way he tries too hard to make people feel seen, that stupid charismatic warmth of his that could thaw even the coldest Russian winter.

I hated that he got to me.

But fuck, he did.

–

As I tightened the laces on my cleats — blonde hair falling into my eyes, fingers pulling harder than necessary — I couldn't stop replaying yesterday. I know I can be an asshole, but that... that was the first time I think I actually cut deeper than I meant to.

"You wanna know what we are? We're nothing."

God. Why the hell did I say that?!

I clenched my jaw and shook my head hard, muttering under my breath. There was nothing I could do about it now — and worse, a part of me didn't even want to try.

Because technically, I finally got what I'd been wishing for since the first day of school: for Archer Wilson to leave me alone. After all the chaos, the clinginess, the relentless optimism — he finally did. He finally left me alone.

So why did it feel like I'd punched a hole straight through my own chest?

I'd been the one to push him away — because it's what I wanted. At least.. that's what I kept telling myself.

So why did it suddenly feel like my soccer uniform was tightening around my chest, like I couldn't get a full breath in? Maybe because every time I looked down at it, I remembered the day he practically dragged me to try-outs, more sure of my potential than I had ever been.

My eyes drifted to the stands — packed with loud parents and bored students — and automatically found the railing where he used to stand.

I could still picture him there: uniform neat in that annoyingly perfect way, brunette hair getting messed up by the wind, wearing that stupidly charming smile that somehow made me want to try harder... if only so he'd keep looking at me like that.