Chapter 4 Won't Have To Hide

Ashton's

Underneath the varnished oak table of the varsity section, my knuckles were white. I was gripping the edge of the wood so hard my fingernails were on the verge of snapping.

Don't look up, my brain screamed. Do not look up, Ashton. Maintain the mask.

"Yo, Ash, you seeing this?" Miller, our starting lock, nudged my shoulder, a dumb grin plastered across his face. "Your girl is on a warpath today. She’s about to annihilate the scholarship kids."

I didn’t answer. I couldn't. My jaw was locked so tight my teeth ached. Slowly, carefully, I forced my facial muscles into a loose, bored expression. I let my eyes drift toward the corner table, pretending to have the same casual, arrogant curiosity as the rest of my teammates.

But the moment my eyes found her, my heart hammered violently against my ribs.

Nova.

She was sitting there, a scowl on her face, aggressively stabbing a piece of lettuce. God, she looked beautiful when she was angry. Her dark, messy curls were pulled up into a high ponytail, exposing the soft, elegant curve of her neck. My gaze dropped, tracking the outline of her shoulders beneath her oversized t-shirt. She was soft. She had these incredible, lush curves that drove me completely insane every single day.

I watched her body language, memorizing the way her lips moved as she muttered something to her friends. For over a year, this had been my daily ritual. A sick, silent addiction. I was the captain of the rugby team. The "Golden Boy." The entire campus expected me to be the king, which meant I had to wear the crown. And wearing the crown meant standing next to Chloe Vance—a girl whose status matched mine, but whose hollow, cruel soul made me sick to my stomach.

Nobody knew. Nobody could ever find out that every single night, when I closed my eyes, I wasn't thinking about Chloe. I was thinking about Nova and jerking off to with her face.

My mind flashed back to four months ago. The school assembly. The crowd had surged forward, throwing us together in the cramped hallway. For a fraction of a second, the back of my hand had accidentally brushed against her behind. It was a mistake, a pure accident, but the memory had burned itself into my skin. It was soft, full, and perfect. I had spent countless sleepless nights in my hostel bed, staring at the ceiling, losing my mind over that one fleeting second of touch. I wanted her. I wanted to bury my face in her hair, to wrap my arms around her waist, to taste her lips until we both couldn't breathe.

But I was a coward. I was trapped by the expectations of my family, the coach, and the entire school. So I stayed behind my mask.

"What the hell are you staring at over there anyway? Were you looking at my boyfriend?" Chloe’s shrill voice pierced through my thoughts, echoing across the sudden silence of the cafeteria.

My chest constricted. Chloe, shut up. Just walk away.

"The world doesn't revolve around your boyfriend, Chloe," Nova shot back. Her voice was steady, sharp, and dripping with that beautiful, fierce sarcasm I secretly adored. "Though I understand why you're insecure. If I had an attitude like yours I would be worried about losing him too."

A collective shout rippled through the cafeteria. Beside me, my friends laughed. I forced a small, mocking smirk onto my lips, pretending to find it amusing. But underneath the table, my hand ripped a splinter right out of the oak wood.

Then, everything went wrong.

Chloe reached down. She grabbed Nova’s soup bowl.

No. Don't do it.

Before I could even think about breaking my mask, Chloe flipped the bowl and I watched as the thick, orange tomato soup poured directly over Nova’s head.

The cafeteria erupted into a deafening roar of laughter. The guys at my table slammed their hands down, howling with glee.

I froze as the fake smirk died on my face. My entire body turned to absolute ice as I watched the orange liquid rush down Nova's face, soaking her t-shirt, ruining her dignity. She sat perfectly still, her shoulders trembling.

Through the blurry mess of soup, her eyes shifted. She looked straight across the room. Straight at me.

My breath hitched. I wanted to jump over the table. I wanted to punch Miller in the face for laughing. I wanted to grab Chloe by her perfect blonde hair and drag her out of the room. I wanted to wrap Nova in my jacket and wipe every single drop of that filth off her skin.

But I couldn't move. If I stepped in, the questions would start. The rumors would spread, and Chloe’s powerful family would make Nova's life a living hell. So, I did the most monstrous thing possible. I kept my face a blank, unreadable mask and I stared back at her with total, freezing indifference.

I watched the heartbreak slice through her eyes. I watched her pride break.

She stood up, calmly dusted a splash of soup off her arm, whispered something to Chloe, and walked out of the double doors. Her head was held high, but I could see the slight shake in her knees.

"Man, Chloe is savage," Miller chuckled, shaking his head. "Look at the mess."

Chloe marched back to our table, a triumphant, smug grin on her face. She slid into the seat next to me, wrapping her arm around mine. "Did you see that, Ash? The freak finally got what she deserved."

The scent of her expensive perfume hit my nose, and it made me want to gag. I pulled my arm away smoothly, standing up from the table.

"Where are you going?" Chloe blinked, pouting.

"Forgot my extra jersey in the sports pavilion locker," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "Need to grab it before afternoon practice."

"But lunch isn't over—"

"I'll see you at practice, Chloe," I cut her off, turning on my heel.

The moment the cafeteria doors closed behind me, the mask suffocated me. I broke into a dead sprint down the empty hallway, my heavy sneakers pounding against the tiles. My heart was racing, a dangerous, possessive panic clawing at my throat.

I ran straight to the sports pavilion. The building was completely deserted during lunch hours. I threw open my locker, grabbing my oldest, thickest varsity rugby jersey—the one that was incredibly soft and smelled like clean cedarwood.

I marched down the damp, concrete hallway toward the girls' shower stands. As I approached, the faint sound of running water echoed through the tile walls.

And then, I heard it. A quiet, ragged cough, followed by a choked, devastating sob.

It felt like a physical knife twisting into my chest. I stopped right outside the wooden door of her shower stall. The steam was rising from underneath the gap, carrying the faint scent of tomato broth mixed with her natural, sweet skin scent.

She was in there, crying her eyes out because of my girlfriend. Because of my silence.

I reached out, my trembling hand hovering over the doorknob. I wanted to push it open. I wanted to pull her wet, naked, beautiful body against my chest and tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to tell her that she was perfect, that her body was everything I ever desired, and that I was losing my mind with obsession.

Not yet, my rational brain whispered. If you go in there now, she'll hate you forever.

I let out a shaky, silent breath. Slowly, I lifted the soft, oversized rugby jersey. I hung it carefully over the metal hook on the outside of her shower door, making sure it was positioned perfectly so she would see it the second she turned off the water. It would completely swallow her frame, protecting her from the cold air and the prying eyes of the campus.

I leaned my forehead against the cool wood of the door for one long, agonizing second, listening to the sound of her tears.

"Soon, Nova," I whispered into the steam, my voice thick with a dark, dangerous promise.

"Soon, I won't have to hide."