Tiago
"...and finally, our new QB straight from West High, Brookhaven! Congrats, Jones!"
The cheers erupt so loudly I consider putting my headphones back on. I've imagined this moment a thousand times, daydreamed about it for as long as I can remember. But now that it's here, the joy I expected doesn't come.
Maybe it's because of Cooper and the way he's staring at me-cold, dead-eyed, right into my soul.
"Well, ain't that something, my man?"
Enzo throws an arm around my neck, practically hanging on me as his laughter fills my ears. When I glance at him, he's grinning like an idiot, way too happy. And I know it's not all about me getting the spot-it's more about Cormac losing it.
"Alright, now shut up, y'all," Coach's voice cuts through the noise, and the cheers finally settle. "I want everyone here tomorrow. First game's in two weeks."
There's a beat of silence, a collective groan. Dragging us in before classes just to announce new players and the start of the season? Yeah, no one's exactly thrilled.
"Come on, move your asses, kids. I don't want you here 'til the cows come home!"
Coach claps me on the back in what I assume is a friendly gesture. I force a smile, but inside, I feel... nothing. Just a sudden, dull emptiness.
As I head toward the main building, my gaze flickers to the locker rooms. For a second, I consider slipping in-lighting up a cigarette, inhaling the ghost of that sweet mix of weed and fruit Yannik always leaves behind. Maybe she's even in there. It's her spot, after all.
I don't know what I need more: a cigarette or her presence.
Her words won't leave me alone. That screwed-up pep talk. The call I made after. I don't even know why I called. It just felt like the right thing to do in the moment, like my brain had been rewiring itself to chase after her. I keep replaying everything she says, the way she says it.
And I can't shake off the feeling that she's backing up.
"I won't touch you unless you ask me to."
That doesn't sound like her. That's not her game.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I do just want to get laid, and that's the only reason I keep circling back to her.
All I need is a good wank to get her out of my head. Doesn't matter that it'll be the tenth time my mind crawls back to her when I try.
A sharp scream jolts me back to reality.
Instinct kicks in before I can think-I move fast, sidestepping just in time to catch someone. Everything blurs for a second, and then suddenly, I'm holding onto a girl so delicate I worry I might actually hurt her with my grip.
"Jeez," I exhale, my fingers still locked around her shoulders. She's staring at me, wide-eyed, full, reddish lips trembling like she's about to cry. Around us, people slow down, watching. Her cheeks flush deep red with embarrassment.
"Oh god, I'm sorry-I'm so, so sorry," she gasps, struggling to catch her breath.
"Hey," I steady her with a slight shake. "Are you hurt?"
She shakes her head quickly. "No."
"Good." I nod. "I'm Tiago."
"Selena," she utters, still flustered. She inhales deeply, probably trying to pull herself together.
I offer a small smile-an attempt to make her feel less like she almost faceplanted in front of half the school. She tucks a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, looking down, still uneasy.
"Sorry," she mumbles. "I'm so clumsy today..."
"It's fine." I let go of her shoulders, convinced she won't break down any second now. She looks familiar, and I can't help but study her face. "Wait-you take Bio, don't you?"
Her navy-blue eyes, deep and innocent, flick up to mine.
"Oh, you..." She stumbles mid-sentence, glancing away again. "Yeah. You usually sit in front, right?"
"Yeah, that's-"
I don't finish.
Because suddenly, papers are falling from the sky.
Not just a few-dozens, maybe hundreds, fluttering down like confetti.
The hallway erupts with confusion as students scramble to catch them, eyes darting around, voices rising in excitement and disbelief.
I snatch one out of the air.
And the moment I see what's on it, my heart stops.
I see my own face staring back at me from the headline of an article from last year I'd nearly forgotten existed.
'West High's Golden Arm Captain leads Lions to the Playoffs.'
My stomach knots.
People are already turning, glancing at me, whispering. Heat rushes to my head, and for a second, I swear I could disappear into the air.
"What's that?" Selena mumbles beside me, following my gaze as I look up.
And them I see her.
Standing at the top of the stairs, maybe two floors up, Yannik watches the chaos unfold, her copper hair catching the light. Articles fly straight from her hands, scattering into the crowd. The second she meets my eyes, she gives me a wicked grin-pure mischief. A kid caught red-handed, but sly enough to escape.
I stare at her, mind racing through ways to react. But then-
She bolts.
That's all it takes. My body moves before my brain catches up, my feet slamming against the steps as I chase after her.
She flickers in and out of sight, slipping through the crowd like she's been training for this. Students groan and curse as I shove past them, my focus locked on the flash of copper hair ahead. Yannik turns, running backwards for just a second-just long enough to smirk at me.
Trouble. This girl looks exactly like trouble, and it's all she gives to me.
She disappears around the corner. I nearly skid past it, sneakers screeching against the floor as I regain balance.
I run harder.
By the time I barrel into a classroom, nearly crashing against the wall, my pulse is a war drum in my ears.
The door clicks shut behind me.
"Gotcha."
The smugness in her voice is unbearable.
It only takes a few steps to close the space between us. Before I even think, I shove her back against the door.
The sound echoes, sharp in the empty room. Our breath is uneven, heavy. My fingers dig into her shoulder, keeping her pinned in place.
"What the hell was that?" My voice is raw, strained.
"An article." Yannik tries for innocence but fails, one corner of her mouth tilting into a smirk.
"Didn't hire you for PR." I exhale hard, lungs still burning from the chase. My head spins-half from the running, half from her.
She tilts her chin up. "You wanna be on top, don't you?"
I should take a step back. I don't.
"Congrats, Big Boy-you're now trending."
I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches. My eyes flick across her face, searching for something-anything-to get under her skin the way she gets under mine.
She's too complicated for that.
I can hear her breathing. Feel the warmth of it against my skin. The dim classroom light casts shadows over her face, her hazel eyes glowing with something unreadable.
"You don't know what you're doing." My voice is quieter now.
Yannik doesn't move. I still have her trapped, and she knows it.
I'm stronger. Bigger. She's stuck, backed against the door with nowhere to go.
I could do anything. I could lean in and crash my mouth against hers, paying off all the tension I have inside. Slide my knee between her legs, forcing her to spread them. Let my hands trace her curves, grab her ass, lift her up so she can straddle me with her wide hips.
I could.
And I want to.
I want something-anything-to take the edge off.
I can't stand the way she's in my head. The way I keep seeing her eyes every time I close mine.
Her gaze flicks down to my lips, slow and deliberate. She wants me to notice.
"You neither," she murmurs. Her husky voice is low, soaked in seduction.
I swallow hard. "You're right."
"That's why you need me."
She says it like it's a fact. Like she already knows what I'm going to do.
And she's right, but I won't admit it.
"I don't need you."
Her smile is lazy, confident. "So why keep proving otherwise?"
The question lands harder than it should.
This isn't about the article. It's not about the game she's playing. It's about something deeper.
I exhale slowly.
"I'm the new QB." My voice drops lower, almost a whisper. I study her, every flicker of emotion crossing her face. "So what's your plan now, Yannik?"
It feels so right to ask her.
It feels so right to let go while she's here, trapped in my grasp, under my control.
Not her mind, though. Never her mind. That part of her is always free, always slipping through my fingers. But her body? Her body is here, in my hands.
And that's the kind of control I can handle, the control over her I crave so badly.
"To make you a star," she answers, effortlessly cocky, always acting like she knows something I don't. Like she's already five steps ahead in a game where I don't even know the rules. "So you can get what I owe you."
"And then?"
She's a different kind of pretty. A kind I never knew existed.
Selena is cute. Soft. Safe. But Yannik? Yannik is drop-dead gorgeous.
Savagely, recklessly gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that gets people hurt. The kind that feels like an open flame, daring you to get too close.
And I don't mind burning down.
"It's your call, Big Boy." She licks her lips, breath shallow but steady. "You decide."
Same fire. Same fury.
You're just better at hiding it... for now.
She always acts like she knows me better than I know myself. And maybe she does.
The truth is, I don't know what's in her head. I can't get inside, can't crawl under her skin the way she does it with me. Yannik is still a big, twisted mystery, and I stand no chance of making it out of her labyrinth.
"Will you let me go now?" she chuckles, inhaling deep. "Or are you waiting for me to ask you?"
Her voice is steady, but her eyes-her goddamn eyes-look at me like she already owns me. Like she knows I'll do whatever she wants.
I take a step back, forcing space between us when I want nothing more than to keep her here.
She lingers for just a second, our gazes intertwined.
"Don't mess with my business." My voice is low, a warning.
Her lips just curve in a smile.
"They'll eat you alive if I stop messing with your business," she purrs, reaching for the door handle. The sudden burst of light from the hallway blinds me for a moment. "So take my help like a good boy and quit whimpering."
And just like that, she's gone.
I shouldn't let her go. I should move, because I want to say her name.
I want to ask her to stay. To suggest skipping class, heading to the locker room, anything-anything-to make her stay just a little longer.
But she doesn't.
And I'm left standing here, haunted by her ghost, wishing I had the guts to ask her.
To beg.