Enchanted (Billionaire Boys Club #2) | ongoing

Chapter 7

Darius:

I'm not quite sure what I was thinking. Taking her with me to the rink.

Truth be told, I didn't really need the sweatshirt I collected from my locker. But for some unknown reason, I wanted to take her there.

I think it's most likely a strange competitive streak. The need to show them that she's with me and off limits. Well, not with me, but you get it.

I knew at least some of the team would still be there to go over game tapes. I didn't expect it to be those three fuckers but I guess it doesn't matter as long as the point gets across.

Their nonstop texts after that definitely weren't appreciated, though.

Why the fuck does everyone suddenly want me to get a girlfriend? They know I'm not like that. Eventually, maybe. But certainly not anytime soon.

Word has spread already about that little situation.

Part of me is glad because people will know not to try anything with her but another part of me almost feel bad for her, considering a few things that the girls are saying. I'll just have to shut those down.

I'm actually surprised so many people are aware of who she is. Am I seriously the only person who didn't know about her?

She did say that she's friendly with everyone. And her beauty is unmistakably unparalleled.

No matter. I'll get to know her very well soon enough.

"Thinking about that pretty little dancer?" Oakley appears out of nowhere next to my locker at the rink. We've just gotten done with practice.

He's already changed and grinning at me so brightly it could challenge the sun itself.

"Do you not see the hockey stick in my hand or..."

"What hockey stick." I hear Jere come up behind me just before I feel the stick wrenched from my hand.

"What is this?"

"A friendly chat." Oak takes a seat on the bench, handing me my shirt.

I snatch it from his grip and shove my arms through.

"She is pretty." I turn my head to Jeremy, who's discarded the stick and is now leaning back against the lockers with his hands in his pockets. His green eyes shining with mirth. "More than pretty, actually."

"Yeah, she is." I glare. "And you're not gonna do a fucking thing about it."

"And why might that be?"

I spin on Oakley. "Because-"

"Because she's your future wife." He coughs.

"What the hell is going on with everybody? She's just a fucking girl. You've never made a fuss about these things before."

"That's because we've never seen potential like this before." He argues. "Sure, you've wanted to get laid by certain girls before but there was no commitment there. You two have to work together. "

"Closely." Jere adds.

"For months."

"Just the two of you."

"You're hot."

"She's hot."

"It's common sense, really." Oak shrugs.

"Besides, we're fucking bored." Jeremy tilts his head back to watch the ceiling.

"So I'm a fucking project to you? She's a fucking project to you?"