Chapter 3 Chapter 03

Skylar's POV

I stood at the front of the class in nothing but my sports bra and my track pants.

Every eye in the room was on me. Somebody whistled. Two boys in the second row pulled out their phones.

My face burned like fire. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Miss Scott, stop!" the professor said. He rushed forward and picked my jacket up from the floor. "Put this back on. Now."

I grabbed the jacket and pulled it around me with shaking hands.

Penelope leaned back in her chair and smiled. "What's the matter, charity case? Did something happen to your clothes?"

The class laughed.

I looked at her. Then I looked at the back row, at Owen. He was the one who stopped smiling first. That was all the proof I needed.

"You," I said, pointing at him. "You did this."

Owen sat up. "What?"

"You did this. Why?" My voice cracked. "Because I beat you in front of your friends? God, what a pathetic sore loser you are."

"Watch your mouth," Owen said. He stood up. "I didn't touch your stupid clothes."

"Liar."

"How dare you call me a liar in front of..."

"Enough!" the professor shouted. "Both of you. My office. After class."

An hour later, Owen and I sat side by side in two hard chairs in front of the professor's desk. But the professor was not alone. Coach Leonard Smith stood by the window with his arms crossed. He was a big man with gray hair and a face that never smiled.

"I have been coaching for twenty-two years," Coach Smith said. "And I have never had two of my players act like children in a classroom. Not once. Not until today."

"Coach, I can explain," I said.

"I'm not finished." He turned to us. "You are not children. You are elite athletes. Do you know what I should do? I should kick you both off this team. Maybe I should even ask the school to send you home."

My heart fell into my stomach.

"Please, Coach," I said. "Please. This school is my one shot in life. I am so sorry. I will do anything."

Coach Smith looked at me for a long moment.

"I might reconsider," he said. "But only because you are both gifted players."

I let out my breath.

"As you know, the season kickoff gala is next Friday," Coach said. "The donors, the press, the scouts. Everyone will be there. Since you two love each other so much, you will be in charge of the decorations."

"Together?" Owen said.

"Together?" I said at the same time.

"Together," Coach said. "And there is one more thing. Miss Scott, your dorm room has been given away by mistake. And with the reporters following you everywhere, it is not safe for you there anyway. Your brother called me this morning. He asked me to put you somewhere I can keep an eye on you."

I did not like where this was going.

"You are moving into the team house," Coach said. "With Owen."

"No," Owen and I said together.

"Yes," Coach said. "You two will learn to work together. On the field and off it. Because if my quarterback cannot trust my best receiver, we lose. And I do not lose."

I swallowed. "Thank you, Coach. I will do anything to stay here."

Owen leaned back in his chair. "I won't."

Coach raised his eyebrows.

"Why should I care?" Owen said. "I have plenty of options. Like she said, I'm made of money."

"Owen," Coach said. "Your mother called me ten minutes ago."

Owen's face went white.

Coach Smith walked to the door. "Give us a moment, Professor."

The two men stepped out and closed the door behind them. Owen turned in his chair to face me, and his eyes were full of fire.

"Thanks to you, my mother just threatened to cut me off," he said.

"Thanks to me?"

"Yes, you. Why don't you just pack up and go back to the group home? You don't belong here, charity case."

"Oh, poor you," I said. "The spoiled rich kid who is used to his problems going away the moment his mommy pulls out her checkbook."

"You don't know anything about my mother."

"And you don't know anything about me," I said. "Trust me, I'm not happy about this either. But I need my scholarship. And you need your mommy's credit card. So let's just get this done."

Owen stared at me. Then he let out a long breath.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm making some ground rules."

"Of course you are."

He held up one finger. "Rule number one. Don't look at me like you're always trying to figure me out."

"I'm not trying to figure you out."

"You're doing it right now." He held up a second finger. "Rule number two. Don't ever touch me."

"Trust me, that won't be a problem."

He held up a third finger. "Rule number three. I can change the rules any time I want."

"Fine," I said.

He stood up and walked to the door. Then he stopped and said something under his breath.

"Woman, I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into."

"What?" I said.

"Nothing."

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Owen's POV

The ballroom was huge, and it was a mess.

Boxes of gold balloons, red ribbons, and paper lights were everywhere. Skylar stood on a ladder, hanging a banner over the stage. She had not said a single word to me in two hours.

I lifted a heavy table to carry it across the room. Halfway there, a pain shot through the back of my leg like a knife.

I dropped the table and fell to one knee.

"Owen?" Skylar climbed down from the ladder. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine," I said through my teeth.

"It doesn't look fine."

"None of your business, charity case."

She walked over anyway. "Just let me help you. One athlete to another."

"Leave me alone."

Another wave of pain hit me, and I groaned. "Oh, this is bad."

"It's a muscle cramp," she said. She knelt down next to me. "Here. Let me rub it."

Before I could stop her, she put both hands on the back of my calf and pressed down hard.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"Pressure will help," she said. "Hold still."

She pushed her thumbs deep into the muscle and moved them in small circles. I wanted to tell her to stop. I did not.

"We didn't have many medical supplies at the group home," she said in a soft voice. "So I picked up a few tricks. Here. Stretch your foot toward you. Slow."

I did what she said. The pain started to fade. Her hands were warm, and she was so close I could smell her hair. It smelled like vanilla.

I looked at her face. She was focused on my leg, biting her bottom lip.

Then I remembered who she was. Ryan's little sister. My problem.

I pulled my leg away. "You broke rule number two. Don't ever touch me."

She sat back on her heels and glared at me. "You're welcome."

"I make my own rules."

"What the hell is going on here?"

We both turned. Penelope stood in the doorway in a short white dress, holding a coffee cup. Her face was red.

"Penelope," I said. "It's not what it looks like."

She did not even look at me. She marched straight to Skylar.

"You little tramp!" she screamed. "He's my boyfriend!"

She threw her hot coffee at Skylar's face. Skylar raised her arm just in time, and the coffee splashed across her sleeve. Then Penelope grabbed a fist of Skylar's hair and pulled.

"Hey!" I jumped to my feet, cramp or no cramp. I took Penelope's wrist and pulled her hand away. "Don't touch her."

Penelope stared at me. "Excuse me?"

"Back off," I said.

"Why are you protecting her? Owen, she's nobody!"

Skylar sat on the floor, holding her head. Her eyes were wet, but she did not let a single tear fall. I do not know why, but that made me even angrier.

I turned to face Penelope and the two friends who had come in behind her.

"Listen to me," I said. "From now on, nobody gets to make her cry. Nobody but me. Got it?"

The room went silent.

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Penelope's POV

I walked out of that ballroom with my hands shaking.

Owen Caldwell had never raised his voice at me. Not once in two years. And now he was standing between me and some girl who smelled like a bus station.

I pulled out my phone and called Jordan.

"Hey, Pen," he said. "What's up?"

"You said you wanted your spot back," I said.

"Yeah. So?"

I looked back through the ballroom doors. Owen was helping Skylar off the floor.

"So I'm going to help you," I said. "I'm going to destroy that girl."