Playing With Fire

CHAPTER XXX (30)

CHAPTER XXX
Solana

   Bowl season was coming up in a week, and everyone was anxiously waiting on their toes, because we all knew what was coming next: The Tigers competing against the Hawks in a chance to play in the playoffs.

   The Tiger's were already ranked number one after the final rankings came out, with Alabama's team right in second. Everyone knew who was going to win—it was obvious, after the scores settled and showed the Hawks on sixteenth place. Despite all of that, the game coming up would be the most anticipated of the year. At least in our state.

   Knowing how well Christian carried his team, I wouldn't be surprised if his team would represent the Southeastern conference for the national championship game in early January.

   Not that I was stalking their stats, of course.

   Exam season had started, and despite the loads of stress I've carried the last week, needing to balance studying and work, I couldn't focus. Maybe it was because of all the anxious energy in the house. Maybe I was burnt out. Maybe it was because of a certain QB.

   Nonetheless, I did my best to absorb myself in anything that could take my mind of him. Like today. For some reason, when I woke up, I had the motivation to get out of the house, so with a quick bus ride, I stopped in front of a café and found a comfortable table in the back to settle in.

  At six-thirty, my last two hour exam would start, and soon after that, I would be done for the semester. But despite that encouraging thought, I couldn't fucking focus.

   I was maybe in the café for three hours when I slammed my textbook down and closed my laptop in frustration. "Fuck this," I grumbled and pulled my phone out from the bag sitting next to me.

   I accept the fail mark. I was too mentally and emotionally exhausted to read another chapter. This even applied to the books on my kindle or bookshelf.

   Without my permission, my thoughts flickered to Christian when I remembered reading on my kindle. Then, I wanted to scream and shout because this motherfucker ruined reading for me. Both because he actually bought me the device, and because he'd been the only one I allowed to read with me.

   I regret ever fucking associating with your goddamn brother. Your mom. You.

   I'm so fucking tired of you.

   Now, there was this large, major part of me that hated that I was still hung up on him. Yes, it'd been a few days since our confrontation, but my fuck-all attitude hasn't helped override the pain Christian's words sent to my chest.

   I have never hated feeling vulnerable than I did right now.

   So, distraction it was.

   Although, I frowned when I unlocked my phone and saw unread texts from mom. All of which were asking when I could visit again, and if I'd like to give Conan Fisher a shot. I was tempted to remind her that I was in a relationship when I remembered that fake or not, that wasn't true anymore. So I kept her on read and went on social media.

   For thirty minutes, I scrolled aimlessly, hoping for something to pop up on my feed and give me an ounce of happiness. Instead, all I saw were cake decorations, people lip-singing and Reddit videos.

   At one point, my thumb started getting numb when I heard the bell above the door ring, followed by at least three guys chatting as they entered the cafe.

   Absent-minded, I glanced up, already preparing to look back down, when I recognized a familiar buzzed head of hair. My body slammed against the seat, already reacting to his presence because if he was here, then...