I twirl a pawn chess piece between my index and middle finger as I stare out of the locker room’s window.
Both the football team and the girls’ track team are inside the changing rooms.
Elsa lingers back with their coach. She discreetly keeps herself the last to shower so none of her teammates sees her scar.
She spent her entire life hiding. And for what?
Finding her was never an option. It was always bound to happen.
I waited eight years to find her and if she thinks I’m letting her go now then she really doesn’t know me.
And here I thought she was beginning to understand me.
Until Jonathan and Queens screwed up everything.
I continue following her with my gaze even after she disappears inside the building with her coach.
Two years.
I’ve been watching her for two years, biding my time and waiting for the moment to strike.
I got close — so close — before everything blew up in smoke.
But I’ll fix it. I always do.
The battle is still the same. I just need different tactics.
Still clutching the pawn’s chess piece, I retrieve my phone and pull up the pictures Astor attached to the group chat a few days ago.
In one picture, Elsa is taking one shot — when she never drinks.
In the second, she’s climbing into the new boy’s car.
If Nash sent those pictures, I would’ve had a different theory. Nash becomes a little bitch when it comes to Queens. I knew he wouldn’t like me taking off with her, but I ignored his opinion.
However, this is Astor. He’s the most neutral person in our group. During parties, he’d be so busy with pussy, alcohol, and weed to plot anything like this.
He even asked me to spare his head when we met for practice the following day.
I scroll through the photos to a shot where the new boy was caressing Elsa’s face.
My left eye twitches as I strangle the pawn between my fingers.
He had his hand on her.
He had his fucking hands on what’s mine.
I warned him. He didn’t listen.
Now, he’ll pay.
But first, my gaze zeroes in on Elsa’s face. Her easy smile. Her flushed cheeks. Her glistening lips.
My clutch tightens on the phone, I’m surprised it doesn’t break to pieces.
I gave her a choice. I gave her the right to make the first move, but I should’ve known better.
Elsa doesn’t work that way.
She acts better when her will is taken and ripped to pieces.
The track team’s coach comes out from the building with her pad in hand. I stand up and tuck the phone in my pocket.
“Where to?” Knight asks from in front of his locker.
I don’t answer him.
Nash throws a T-shirt over his head and steps in front of me, his damp hair still dripping water down his chest. “We need to talk.”
“Not today.”
“Party at my house!” Astor calls, abandoning his conversation with the goalkeeper. “It’s our off week. Let’s party until the morning!”
I meet their gazes and tilt my head to the side. “Get out of my way.”
Nash’s shoulders tense, but he doesn’t move.
I’m a few inches taller so I glare down at him with my best ‘Back the fuck off’ look. If he wants payback for what happened with Queens, I’ll give him that.
Just not today.
Knight claps Nash’s shoulder and pulls him back. He’s smarter sometimes.
I sidestep them and stride out of the door.
“Later, King!” Astor calls after me. “Try not to commit a crime.”
Hmm. Maybe that’s exactly what I’ll do.
