Hidden Play: The Return 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Would you hurry this up?" Mike hisses below me. "Your fat ass is killing my neck."

"Fat ass, huh?" I quip down at him. "Keep talking shit, and I'll fall off on purpose, asshole."

Mike's grip tightens around my thighs, and I respond by digging my heels into his ribs, earning me a grunt of pained irritation. I glare down at Casper, who is clutching onto Radik's legs just as Mike is doing to mine. The two of them waver as Radik lunges at me yet again for our fifth and final round of chicken. This time, I don't let Radik slip away. I grip his biceps and pull him in close before shoving him away as hard as I can.

It's enough. Radik tips back, and Casper doesn't have the upper body strength to keep him on his shoulders. Mike steadies himself below me, all the while Radik's splash echoes throughout the pool room – the sound of our victory.

The team cheers around the pool. Even the few hotel guests who weathered through our ruckus manage to smile. Our game of chicken has been quite the epic battle. Mike shouts and does a victory lap with me on his shoulders. I won't lie – as much as I loathe Mike and whatever is happening between him and my sister behind closed doors, he makes a pretty decent chicken partner. Apparently, what he lacks for in brains he makes up for in brawn.

When we pass Zion and Kurt sitting along the side of the pool, my eyes lock with Zion's. He tips his chin towards me, and the heat behind his hooded gaze reaches me from over ten feet away.

"Guys! Pizza is here!"

Mike turns towards the interruption, and I only catch a glimpse of Coach's baseball cap peeking through the poolroom door before I'm rocketed backwards. I crash into a sea of chlorinated water and manage to deliver one, swift kick to Mike before breaking the surface.

By the way the rest of my team grabs their towels and hurries to the lobby, you'd think they haven't eaten in a week. The squeaks of their rubber-sole sandals resonate off the tiled floor and echo through the stuffy room. Despite my recent (and remarkable) win in our game of chicken, Casper sticks around and waits for me to get out of the pool.

To my surprise, Zion hangs back, too.

The pair of them hover on opposite sides of my pool chair, in silence. Casper holds out a towel for me, and Zion's jaw tightens at the small act of kindness. In his eyes, this is nothing but a flaunting reminder of our non-existent night together. Zion isn't wrong in his assumption that I spent the night in another man's bed when we ended. He's just sadly mistaken on who.

I shake out my hair, running my fingers through the short ends and swipe up my cellphone and towel, muttering a quick thank you under my breath.

"You know what kind of pizza Coach got?" I ask as we make our way out of the pool, Casper and Zion on either side of me.

"No idea," Casper mutters. "Hopefully the rest of the guys leave us something good, though. I hate just plain cheese."

He sounds so unsure of his response. Zion and Casper have been going to the same school and have been in the same social group for years. Yet even now, after all this time, my buddy is terrified of our King. It's as if even Casper's choice of pizza toppings has the potential of being subjected to our leader's ridicule.

We round the corner, and the smell of stuffy heat and chlorine is replaced by fresh air and pizza. Our entrance into the lobby doesn't go unnoticed. Everyone shoots glances our way, the unexpected trio. Their captain is no longer leading the pack, but instead flanking someone's side. Only Radik and Kurt have the courage to keep their gazes trained on us as we pick through the half-empty pizza boxes.