Page 25 of The Golden Receiver

Friday was exactly the same. I found him in the gym before weight training, running on the treadmill. We once again kept adjusting our speeds. I hated running on the treadmill. It was boring, but it was less boring when I was practically racing Kieran. He did the same adjustment on weights as we did our circuit. When I got to our class, he was already there. He’d sat in a different seat, one that didn’t leave any empty desks for me to sit beside him.

Damn it. He was onto me.

He also didn’t show up at the dining hall for lunch. I didn’t see him or catch his scent until film study. With the game the next day, I knew that I couldn’t focus on him. I had to pay attention to what the coaches were saying, but it was hard when he was sitting next to me. When we hit the field, Coach Shaw called Kieran’s name with the first team. During our eleven-on-eleven drills, he lined up with me.

He’d improved over the last week. A lot. He was moving faster. When Eric targeted him on a deep ball, he caught it easily and took off running toward the end zone. He dodged one of the defenders with an ease I’d never seen from a human before, even the professional players I watched. I was impressed. I would admit it.

It appeared the coaching staff was too, because when the list was posted for the next day’s game, he was listed right underneath me. Wide receiver #2, starter. A rush of pride coursed through my veins, but before I could say anything, he left.

He actually left.

I followed him, still grinning like an idiot. I wanted to congratulate him.

I should have noticed the way the sour smell trailed behind him in the air. It was sharper and stronger than it had been all week. I should have noticed that he wasn’t going toward Karloff Hall, but instead, he was going toward one of the trails we’d run in the woods surrounding campus. One that led to the river where the welcome bonfire had been held. I followed him, eager to congratulate him for his accomplishment.

“Kieran,” I called out, trying to get him to stop. He didn’t. I kept following him. I followed him all the way into the woods. “Kieran, can you stop?”

He whipped around to face me. “What do you want, Evander?” he snapped.

I thought he’d be happy. He made it to the starting position, but instead, he was grumpier now than he’d been before. I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand him. “I wanted to congratulate you,” I told him simply. “You’re starting to⁠—”

“It’s not good enough,” he grumbled, cutting me off.

Rage coursed through my veins. It wasn’t good enough. He was acting like a spoiled brat, and it pissed me off.

“Not good enough?” I snapped, taking a step toward him. I felt like a wild animal had been unleashed in my chest. Kieran took a step backward. For a moment, he almost looked afraid of me. “Is anything fucking good enough to make you happy?”

I was starting to have my doubts.

Chapter Nine

Kieran

Maybe he was right.

Maybe getting that starting position in the lineup should have been good enough for me. I didn’t know why it wasn’t, but I also didn’t know why it was any of Evander’s business.

He was snapping at me, like I’d personally offended him. I hadn’t asked him to follow me out of the training facility. If I’d wanted his company, I would’ve asked.

Is anything fucking good enough to make you happy?

I looked up at him, my brow furrowed in annoyance. His eyes were glowing gold, just like they had Saturday night after the Alpha Claw Omega party. Unlike Saturday night, he was looking pissed as hell. I wasn’t going to just stand around and deal with his attitude. I had two choices: walk away or fight back.

I already knew what would happen if I started walking away. His stubborn ass would follow me around like a lost puppy.

It looked like the only real option I had was to fight back.

Too bad I’d already taken that step back when he started shouting. He was going to think I’d been afraid of his Big Bad Wolf act, and okay, maybe I’d been a bit freaked out by it. I’d never heard Evander raise his voice once in the weeks I’d known him. Even when he was looking frustrated as all hell about something in practice or when he was following me around campus.

That step back may have cost me the upper hand for a moment, but I was never one to back down from a challenge. I squared my shoulders and met his eyes. “Is that your business?” I asked him.

Evander scoffed. “When you act like an asshole, yeah, it becomes my business. We’re on the same team.” His voice was still raised, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I could almost hear the low timber of a growl underneath his words.

I was glad this was the real world, not one of those movies where werewolves went all furry and feral when they got angry.

“That doesn’t make anything I do your business,” I pointed out, my voice raising to match his.

“It does,” he insisted again. He took another step toward me, and this time, I held my ground. The air between us crackled with tension. It felt like a lit match might set off an explosion, and frankly, I was wondering which one of us would explode first. It would almost be amusing to see him ignite. (Before today, I wasn’t sure he had it in him to explode, but now, I was having my doubts.)