The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)(11)

“Fuck you forever, River Tate,” I snap.

“Fuck me forever—that’s a new one. Finally.” He lets out a gruff laugh. “Feel better?”

I blink. “Maybe.”

“You need to let it out. I use the punching bag in the basement of the Kappa house. And showers. Tell me what happened to ruin your day. The more you talk about it, the easier it will be.”

I break our gaze. He has a way about him, a gift for encouraging others and getting them stoked. Not me, of course.

As a football player, he’s an unlikely candidate to be president, but he and Donovan work well together. River has big ideas and Donovan loves to execute them. At the beginning of the semester, River brought in several bigwigs from the business world in Atlanta to speak at a campus-wide event. Then, he came up with a dance contest for the Greeks. Every sorority and frat signed up and did an entire show. Costumes, music—you name it. It raised twenty thousand dollars for a homeless shelter. Donovan typed the event up on his resume with glee.

“Donovan…” I bite my lip, unsure what to say.

“What did he do?”

“He forgot my birthday.” I check my phone again, hoping for a birthday text from him. Nothing. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I lie.

He frowns. “That sucks. It must hurt.”

I glance away from him. I don’t even bring up my parents and how much I’m missing them lately. They’ve been in Greece for a year and haven’t called me for my birthday yet, which isn’t too surprising. My parents are artists who barely keep up with the day of the week.

Growing up, Mom would wake up on a regular day and start packing. Let’s live on a houseboat in Seattle. A few months there and we’d be off to a new place. I don’t have a real home and never attended a real school. I only came to Braxton for my last two years because it would look good on law school applications.

My parents taught me to depend on myself. To be strong.

But, sometimes, Jesus, I just wish they were…here. When I don’t get into Harvard. When money is tight. When the guy I love forgets— I stop the spiral in my head.

“You’ll probably see him at the house, but don’t tell him he forgot, okay? I just…” don’t want to get River involved.

“Forgetting something that important isn’t like him. He’s my right-hand man.” He pauses, his eyes on my lips. “And a good friend.”

“He’s overwhelmed this semester. You keep him busy.”

River’s jaw flexes. “What can I say, he’s super organized. I couldn’t have held office without him. We’re opposites but click.”

“Everyone clicks with you. Except me.”

“You think?” He shifts closer and I take a tiny step back, bumping into the wall. With his height, he towers over me and makes me feel fragile and small, when normally I don’t.

“Um…” I say, then stop, taking in the colors in his eyes. Indigo dipped in smoke. Sapphires wrapped in a storm. I swallow thickly, taking in his thick lashes, dark brows, and the sharp angles of his face.

“Would you, um, take a step back, please?”

He doesn’t. “How old are you today?”

“Twenty-one.”

He nods. “I’m going to be twenty-two. Had to repeat kindergarten. Almost had to repeat seventh and eleventh, but my coach fixed it. They say the odd years in school are the hardest. I thought they all sucked.” His lips quirk.

I blink. Besides the fact that he isn’t moving back when I asked him to, I’m definitely in a parallel universe where River is sort of nice to me. Don’t get used to it, I remind myself. There’s probably a reason. Maybe he got a concussion at the game this weekend. Maybe he’s having an aneurysm. Maybe he’s— I hear the professor’s voice calling roll. “We should go to class,” I say.

Neither of us moves.

He runs a hand through his hair. It looks soft, the top longer than the sides, the back curling around his collar. “You know what I do when my day is shit? I remember three things I’m grateful for. Anything. Could be the fact that the Wi-Fi in the Kappa house is working. Might be clean underwear. Could be a phone call from Callie—that’s my niece. What’s yours?”

“Does the high and mighty River Tate have a gratitude journal?”

“In my head.”

“Is that really who you were talking to on the phone?”

“Come on. Try. Give me one thing you’re grateful for.” His finger flicks the Kappa pin on my sweatshirt, his touch ghosting over my throat. “This?”

Electricity sparks, and I gasp, pushing the tingles away. Those little shocks don’t mean a thing. Yes, he’s accidentally touched me before, and he always flinches away.

So why is he standing so close to me today?

“I don’t know. I told you to fuck off. You’ve had it coming.”

“Maybe I have.” He smiles, but it isn’t a charming one; no, it’s lethal. He really means it. We are enemies. His gaze skates over me, coming back to my face then lingering on my Kappa pin. “I tolerate you because you wear his pin. Otherwise, I don’t want to be near you.”

“Hmmm, you’re in my space bubble. Is there a reason?” I snap.

Another dangerous smile. “Torture, isn’t it?”