Page 38 of The Heart Breaker

I will not let Cole see me flinch.

But then a shadow cuts across my phone screen, and I know who it is before I even turn around. My shoulders lock, my throat tightening as I pocket my phone and force myself to face him.

“What do you want?”

Cole shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, his expression unreadable except for the slight tick in his jaw. He jerks his chin toward the lawn. “Freshman’s gonna cry when he realizes you ditched him,” he says, his eyes dragging over me in a way that sends heat creeping up my neck. “Didn’t think you were that desperate for attention, Prescott. A rookie? Really?”

I fold my arms across my chest and roll my eyes. “It’s none of your business who I fuck,” I tell him. “Go back to your girl and leave me alone.”

“She’s not my girl.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Does she know that? She had her tongue halfway down your throat.”

His jaw ticks.

I shake my head, letting out a scoff. “God, you really do this to every girl, don’t you?”

His eyes narrow. “Do what?”

“Play the untouchable heartbreaker,” I snap. “You mess with their heads, and then act like it meant absolutely nothing to you.”

He arches a brow and steps closer. “Why are you pissed right now? We agreed it was just a one-time thing.”

I lift my chin. “I know what we agreed to.”

He doesn’t back off. If anything, his voice turns colder, sharper. “Then stop acting like I owe you something. It was just a fuck, Prescott. We’re not dating.”

His words twist low in my stomach, and I hate that he still gets to me. I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Trust me. I figured that out when you were all over her in front of everyone.”

He lets out a scoff. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, tilting his head as he looks at me. “You’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” I snap, my stomach turning at the thought. “I’m just embarrassed for her.”

Something tightens in his jaw, his teeth grinding before he speaks. “You didn’t seem embarrassed when you were moaning my name.”

Heat rushes straight to my face, but I keep my eyes on his, refusing to let him affect me. “That was a lapse in judgment. I’m sure your teammate will fuck me better than you did.”

His gaze drops, drifting down my body before lifting back to mine, his eyes somehow darker. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “Because while you were curled up with the rookie, you kept looking at me.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” I bite out. “I forgot you existed the second I walked out of your room.”

“Bullshit.” He spits the word out and it feels like a hand around my throat. “You’ve been staring at me since you walked in,” he says, stepping closer. “The freshman puts his arm around you, and you go rigid. I look at you and suddenly you can’t sit still. Don’t lie to me, Prescott. You’re terrible at it.”

God, I hate him.

I hate that he’s right.

I hate that he knows he’s right.

“You’re not that interesting,” I say, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “If I looked at you, it’s because you were making a spectacle of yourself.”

His brow lifts. “You think I was trying to get your attention?”

“I think,” I say, holding his stare without blinking, “you didn’t give a shit about that girl. I think you dragged her onto your lap to get to me. I think you put on a show for me.”

“You’re delusional.” His voice drops into that low, dangerous register I recognize from every argument we’ve ever had. “We fucked once. I’ve moved on, Viper.”

“Good for you,” I say with a scoff. “Want a medal?” I roll my eyes. “Leave me the hell alone, Reaper. Go haunt someone else’s night.”