Micah’s POV
I didn’t want to believe it. I desperately, fiercely clawed at the hope that Noah wasn’t this kind of person. So what if he had just figured out that I lied to him? So what if he knew I was covering for Damon, hiding the fact that he had been in my room? Noah was supposed to be the anchor. He was supposed to be the calm, rational one, not... whatever terrifying, unhinged version of him was standing in front of me right now.
My upper arms were burning from his vice-like grip. Hot tears threatened to spill over my lashes, but I desperately blinked them back, forcing myself to look straight into his cold, dark eyes.
"Noah, please... you’re hurting me," I stuttered.
Noah flinched. The moment he registered the tears in my eyes, his terrifying expression shattered. As if suddenly realizing he had completely lost control, he let go of my arms and instantly pulled me into a fierce, desperate embrace. His large arms wrapped tightly around my body, crushing me against his bare chest.
"I’m so sorry, Micah," he whispered, his deep voice cracking with sudden emotion. "I shouldn’t have hurt you. I’m sorry, Micah. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry." He kept repeating the words over and over again like a mantra, his heart hammering violently against my ribs.
I reached up, gently tapping his broad back until he finally pulled away from the hug.
"I’m fine, Noah," I said softly, searching his face. "Just... please don’t threaten Damon. Don’t try to kill him."
"Sure, I won’t hurt you. I will never do that to you," Noah replied smoothly. He took my hand in his, pressing his forehead against my knuckles. Somehow, he found a way to completely ignore my words about Damon, pushing the rival player out of the conversation entirely.
Before I could say anything else, Noah’s phone lit up on the counter. The screen displayed the head coach’s name. Noah’s expression instantly turned cold and professional again as he looked back at me.
"I guess I will have to head out first," he said, stepping back. "I’ll see you at school, Micah."
"Okay, Noah," I replied.
I watched him head upstairs to grab a shirt. By the time I was finished brewing my morning coffee, Noah had already stepped out of the house, gotten into his car, and driven off.
My stomach twisted with a familiar, bitter envy as I watched his tail lights disappear. Our father had bought him that beautiful car last year for his birthday. I didn’t get anything. I knew there was no way my father simply forgot my birthday—after all, it was the exact same day my mother died. He just chose to ignore it.
I shook my head violently, trying to force the dark thoughts away. I couldn’t let my family dynamics ruin my mood before the day even started. I had to get to the media team office.
After freshening up and changing into clean clothes, I made my way to campus. The moment I pushed open the door to the media room, the usual chaotic energy hit me like a wall.
The team was frantically preparing for a mandatory meeting. A girl with thick glasses and messy hair was scurrying around the room, handing out iced drinks to everyone. She hurried over to me, nervously pressing a cup into my hands. I accepted it with a quiet murmur of thanks.
I glanced back at the closed door, seriously wondering if I should just turn around and walk out. But I reminded myself that I was officially part of this team now. I quietly slipped through the crowd and found a seat at the very end of the long conference table.
A moment later, Raven stepped out of her private office, casually wiping powdered sugar donut toppings from her mouth.
"Here you go, Raven," the glasses girl said, rushing over to hand Raven her specific drink.
Raven took the cup, her fingers deliberately brushing against the girl’s hand. "Thank you, sweetheart," she purred.
The girl adjusted her glasses in a flurry, quickly stepping away to hide the deep blush spreading across her cheeks.
Raven took a massive gulp of her drink, set it down on the table, and clapped her hands together. She was wearing her signature dramatic goth outfit, looking entirely in her element.
"Alright, guys, listen up," Raven announced, pacing across the front of the room. "We are about to get incredibly busy. As we all know, the varsity clash tournament is starting very soon, which means the media team has a massive workload ahead of us. Apart from making sure the tournament matches are streamed live for the viewers, we have to ensure our campus players are fully covered."
She paused, snapping her fingers to call the messy-haired glasses girl back over. The girl rushed to her side like a loyal shadow, and Raven leaned down, whispering something low and private into her ear. The girl nodded rapidly, turning on her heel to sprint directly into Raven’s private office.
I couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. Raven seriously flirted with anything wearing a skirt.
A moment later, the girl stepped back out, carefully carrying a thick, heavy manila folder. Raven took it from her, flipping the cover open with a sharp snap.
"Since everyone is already swamped, I’ve decided to split the work evenly so nobody burns out," Raven explained, flipping through the papers. "There are fifteen active members of the media team and six ghost members."
She paused, lifting her head from the file. Her sharp eyes scanned the room until they locked directly onto me. A knowing, wicked smile spread across her lips. I immediately looked away, a bad feeling settling deep in my gut.
"So..." Raven continued, her voice dripping with amusement.
She began reading off the list, splitting the team into specific assignments. Five members were put in charge of handling the online forums and live streams. The remaining active students, along with the ghost members, were divided into small investigative groups. Some were assigned to cover basketball, others to soccer, swimming, and track.
Chime.
Chime. Chime.
Suddenly, a synchronized chorus of chimes echoed through the room as everyone’s phone received a digital notification of their official roster.
With trembling fingers, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tapped the screen. My breath hitched when I saw the two names assigned directly to my column:
Noah Miller
Damon Silver
My heart plummeted straight into my shoes. Raven had absolutely done this on purpose.
I snapped my head up. Sure enough, Raven was staring right at me from across the room, flashing a bright, triumphant grin.
"Have fun with the specific players assigned to you, everyone," Raven called out cheerfully. "Make sure you dig up something highly engaging to write about, and report your progress to me and the coaching staff every single week."
"Yes, Raven," the room chorused in unison.
I couldn’t even force the words out of my throat. I sat frozen in my chair, staring blankly at the names of the two men who utterly loathed each other and who both had their hands all over me within the last twenty-four hours.
"Maybe I should just quit the team..." I muttered to myself, staring at the screen in absolute horror.