Make You Mine (Book Two)

Chapter 3 (Cole)

And oh, did I own them with every fiber of my being.

But the worst part is I knew.

I knew what it was— the temporary indulgence of a temptation neither of us are willing to relinquish entirely. So when she left me without saying so much as a syllable only moments later, I wasn't surprised.

Stupidly, I've hoped she'd change her mind about us, but I have yet to hear a word from her. Now I'm caught in the ultimate role reversal, acting like a desperate fan-girl strutting around for the captain of the football team to notice me.

Yes, I see the irony.

Taking a deep breath, I resolve to clear my mind and focus on the task at hand. A significant weight rests on my shoulders prior to every game, with the knowledge that I'm central to the team's productivity. I can't be the leader they deserve if I'm busy worrying about my shitty love life.

If this is how she wants things to be, then so be it.

...

We're within four points of victory with three-thirty left on the clock. It's plenty of time to pull out a win, even though it won't count toward our season either way. We've recovered from worse, but our defense needs to step up, since Lincoln High has the ball.

They've called a timeout, so there isn't much happening right now on our side of the field. I take a seat on the bench, intentionally ignoring the cheer squad dancing off to my right. My performance today has been shoddy enough. I don't need any more distractions from Wynn.

Our defense heads back on to the field post-timeout. As the play unfolds, I watch Mark Rushford level Lincoln's quarterback in the pocket. That's exactly what we needed. I should be out there with my offense in no time.

"Hey, Wynn!"

I close my eyes. It's the grating voice of Wyatt Matheson. Why is he talking to her? Dammit.

I turn to find him hugging Wynona, each of them wearing a broad smile and speaking too quietly for me to hear.

What in the hell is this?

"Cole! Wyatt! Get your asses on the field!" Coach Castillo paces the sideline, arms folded. He's hot under the collar as we stand on the bitter edge of losing this thing.

I tighten the strap on my helmet, making my way toward my teammates, who are already gathered at the forty yard line. Coach grabs me by the arm as I pass him.

"Get your head back in the game, Galloway."

I nod automatically. Guess he doesn't realize it was never in the game in the first place.

...

I stop on my way home, pulling into a gas station to fill my beamer. Relaxing against the side of the car, I wait for the pump to finish. The numbers on the display scroll by slowly, giving me plenty of opportunity to strangle the guilt that's eating on me.

We lost.

It was my fault.

And worst of all, I did it on purpose.

Overthrowing him was a dick move, but I was so damn jealous. There was no way in hell I was gonna put the ball in Wyatt's hands. So instead of being a team player, I put it just out of his reach in the end zone. Now I'll be the asshole that gets lit up by my father when he returns.

Deserved.

"Galloway."

"Oh, hey Wynn," I say, startled by her sudden appearance. I hadn't noticed her pull into the station, what with all my self-loathing. "What're you doing here?"