SADIE
"What are you doing here?"
A shadow falls over me, blocking the employment letter I’ve been reading while Trey gets our snacks.
I tilt my head back and find a guy standing over me in a sleeveless shirt. His eyes are unusually large and slightly bulging. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but right now, they’re bulging directly at me.
I glance around. "Me?"
"Yeah, you." His eyes move over me. "This is the players’ den. Hockey only."
"I’m actually here with—"
"Do you know whose spot you’re sitting in?"
My mouth stays open for a second. "Yes. Tr—"
"You chicks really think a pretty face’s gonna get you wherever you want?"
I blink.
First of all, pretty?
That’s a lovely improvement from what I’ve been overhearing for the past hour and under different circumstances, I might have thanked him.
Second—
"Can you let me finish a sentence?"
His mouth pulls to one side.
I fold the employment letter and carefully slide it back into the envelope. If this conversation is going where I think it is, I’d rather not crumple the most important piece of paper I’ve received all week.
"I didn’t just walk in here," I tell him. "I came with—"
"Doesn’t matter who you came with."
Oh, for Goddess’s sake.
"If I’d seen you come in, you wouldn’t have gotten this comfortable." He jerks his chin at the chair. "That’s Cap’s spot, sweetheart. Unless he brought you, move your ass and find somewhere else to hang out."
"That is what I’ve been trying to tell you." I throw my hands in the air. "I’m here with Trey."
That finally shuts him up, for about two seconds.
He takes a step back like he needs the extra distance to properly assess what I’ve just claimed. By the time he’s done taking me in, the skepticism on his face has doubled.
"Mercer brought you here?"
"Yes."
"Right." He gives a short scoff. "And I’m supposed to believe Cap walked in here with you looking like somebody’s study partner?"
What is a study partner supposed to look like?
"I am somebody’s study partner."
"Exactly."
My mouth opens, then closes again. Okay, I have no idea how that somehow proved his point.
Thankfully, I don’t have to figure it out because Trey comes through the door before I can respond and relief leaves me in one long breath.
He is heading toward us with a cardboard food box in one hand and two drinks balanced in the other, and despite our misunderstanding before he left, I’ve never been happier to see that permanently unimpressed face.
Bulging Eyes doesn’t notice. He’s far too committed to being rude.
"Cap doesn’t bring chicks like you in here," he continues. "Especially not to his table."
Trey stops behind him, and judging by the way his entire face seems to shut down, I’m beginning to feel a little sorry for this man.
Bulging Eyes is going to die.
"Dawson."
Bulging eyes stiffens. It takes him a second to turn around, and another for all that attitude to drain out of him.
"Cap." His hand goes to the back of his neck. "I was just—"
"Outside."
Trey sets the food box and drinks on the table before turning toward the door.
"Told you," I whisper to Dawson.
His head turns just enough for me to catch the irritation on his face before he keeps walking.
Petty? Maybe. Deserved? Yes.
My satisfaction lasts until I realize just how many people witnessed the entire thing. Conversations have already started again, but there are still enough badly disguised glances coming my way. I turn in my chair until most of the room is behind my shoulder.
I really hope Trey doesn’t plan on bringing me here often. At this rate, I’m going to develop a migraine before I even start tutoring him.
The smell of chocolate eventually pulls my attention to the food box. There’s a donut inside, generously covered in chocolate, and under normal circumstances it wouldn’t survive another ten seconds.
But Trey bought it, and eating while he’s outside dealing with Dawson because of me feels rude.
So I wait.
A few minutes later, the door opens and I glance over, expecting him.
It is Trey. Dawson is with him.
That makes me straighten because I have no idea why he’s back, and from the way he trails half a step behind Trey, I’m guessing returning wasn’t his idea.
They stop at the table. Trey drops into his chair like while Dawson stays on his feet across from me.
"Look, we’re good, yeah?" Dawson says. "I didn’t know you were with Cap. Should’ve let you finish."
"It’s fine."
"Still my bad." He nods toward the lounge. "You’re good in here from now on. Anybody gives you shit, send them my way."
I sneak a glance at Trey, but he’s busy unwrapping a donut, very interested in pretending this has nothing to do with him.
"It’s okay." I look back at Dawson. "It wasn’t that big of a deal."
"We’re cool, then." He taps two fingers against the table. "See you around."
He leaves with a quick nod in Trey’s direction, and that small acknowledgment answers the question I hadn’t even needed to ask.
Trey made him come back.
I’m not sure what to make of that. Less than ten minutes ago, he called me an idiot to my face, but Dawson being rude to me is where he draws the line.
Hypocritical much?
Still, hypocrite or not, I appreciate what he did. Dawson is his teammate. I’m just his tutor, and once the Trials are over, there’s no reason for Trey and me to have anything to do with each other.
He pushes one of the drinks toward me, followed by the food box.
"Why did you let him talk to you like that?"
I reach for the donut. "I told him I came with you and he still didn’t believe me. Said I’m not the kind of girl you bring in here."
That part has been sitting in the back of my mind ever since.
I angle myself toward Trey. "What exactly is your type, Mr. Captain?"
He ignores the question completely. "Could’ve told him to fuck off."
I pause with the donut halfway to my mouth. "This isn’t my turf. I save that kind of authority for Quiz Bowl meetings."
"And?" He takes a drink. "You’ve got a mouth. Stop acting like you need permission to use it."
I snort and finally take a bite of the donut. "I’m an omega, Trey. Telling people to fuck off gets a little complicated when most of them outrank me."
"That’s bullshit."
"Welcome to my life." I shrug. "Don’t worry. I’ve been winging it since the orphanage and nobody’s killed me yet."
It’s meant to lighten the conversation, but Trey doesn’t smile. Not even a little.
Okay. Orphan jokes aren’t his thing.
He starts working his arms out of his jacket. I follow the movement while I chew, wondering if he’s hot, until the jacket comes free and lands unexpectedly across my thighs.
"Take it."
I look from the jacket to him. "Take it where?"
"Keep it." He takes another sip. "Next time you come here, wear it. Anybody bothers you somewhere else, same thing. You’re my tutor now. People will know to leave you alone."
The jacket gets another inspection, because surely I’m missing something.
"People are seriously going to leave me alone because I wear this?"
"Yeah."
"It’s a jacket."
"It’s mine," he says.
I’m not sure what part I’m supposed to respond to first because there’s a lot.
For one, his clothes come with social privileges? Two, he’s handing one of them to me?
Trey’s protective streak is starting to border on excessive. Phone. Dawson. Now a jacket that works as some kind of campus immunity.
I’m beginning to suspect he doesn’t actually see me as his tutor. I think I’m his pet. A very expensive one, considering he’s paying me a hundred dollars an hour.
"I can’t take this." My fingers brush over the sleeve before nudging the jacket back toward him. "Don’t you need it?"
"I have another one." He stretches his legs beneath the table. "There’s a tag inside with a QR code too. Anyone thinks it’s not mine, scan it. Goes straight to my athlete profile."
He glances at me, then exhales.
"Why do you look so shocked?" His voice is quieter this time. "I’m not my brother, Sadie. Won’t treat you like he did."
All I can do is look at him, forgetting about the jacket entirely. Maybe I’m waiting for him to call me an idiot again or do something very Trey-like and make the sudden softness easier to deal with.
He doesn’t.
My vision starts going watery. I turn away quickly, blinking hard as I wipe the moisture gathering beneath my eyes.
Fuck. It’s a jacket. There is absolutely no acceptable reason for me to be crying over it.
Still, my fingers curl around one of the sleeves instead of pushing it back toward him.
Nobody has ever given me something that says you belong with me.
Not romantically. I’m not stupid enough to turn a jacket into a mating ceremony. But enough that if I walk into this lounge again, they’ll know somebody here expects me.
And that somebody isn’t embarrassed about it.
That might be the part my brain is struggling with.
Doesn’t he care that people will see me wearing his jacket? That they’ll know I’m with him? He heard the whispers earlier. He knows what I am. Knows exactly what that means on a campus where everyone likes to pretend the hierarchy isn’t as ugly as it is.
Yet none of that seems to embarrass him, and some stupid part of me keeps waiting for it to.
"Thank you," I say quietly, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the situation happening with my eyes. "I’ll protect it with my life."
He only nods. The corner of his mouth twitches and this time, I’m pretty sure I said the right thing.