Lines We Can’t Cross

Kayla could not stop thinking about it.

She tried. Oh, she tried.

But no matter how much she told herself it was nothing, that Caston was just being his usual annoying, possessive, rage-filled self—she felt it.

That moment.

The way his voice dropped to something dark, something dangerous. The way he looked at her.

Like he knew something she wasn't ready to admit.

And that pissed her off more than anything.

---

"You're being weird."

Marina's voice yanked Kayla out of her thoughts. They were sitting on the bleachers before gym class, waiting for the coach to show up.

Kayla scowled. "I am not."

"You haven't insulted Caston in hours," Marina pointed out. "That's weird."

Rose smirked. "She's thinking about what happened."

"I am not," Kayla snapped too fast.

Marina's eyes lit up. "Oh my God. He got to you, didn't he?"

"No!"

Rose nudged her. "Mhm. Sure."

Kayla groaned, rubbing her temples. "Can we not—"

"Not what, talk about how Caston Moretti pinned you against the lockers and got all possessive?" Marina grinned. "Because I think we definitely should talk about that."

Kayla shot her a glare. "You're the worst."

"And you're avoiding the subject."

Kayla crossed her arms. "It was nothing."

"Nothing?" Marina raised a brow. "So if it was nothing, why haven't you told Caston to back off yet?"

Kayla opened her mouth. Closed it.

And that was all the answer they needed.

---

The Universe Hates Me.

By the time gym started, Kayla had convinced herself that no, she was not thinking about Caston. She was fine. Everything was fine.

And then Coach announced they'd be doing wrestling drills.

With assigned partners.

Kayla's stomach dropped.

Because, of course—of course—she got paired with Caston.

The universe was out to get her.

He didn't say anything when they stepped onto the mat together, just stared at her with that unreadable expression that made her want to punch him.

Or… do something worse.

She pushed that thought way down.

"You ready?" Caston asked, cracking his knuckles.

Kayla smirked. "Always."

She lunged first, trying to catch him off guard.

Big mistake.

He dodged too fast, grabbed her wrist, and—

Flipped her over.

The air rushed out of her lungs as she hit the mat, hard.

And then—

His weight pressed down, pinning her beneath him.

His hands gripped her wrists, forcing them above her head. His breath fanned over her skin, his face inches from hers.

Kayla's pulse pounded.

"Still think it was nothing?" Caston murmured.

She hated that he sounded so smug.

She hated that she had no comeback.

And she really hated that, for a split second, she didn't want to move.

But then—

"Kayla? Caston?!" The coach's voice snapped them both out of it.

They jerked apart.

Kayla scrambled to her feet, avoiding Caston's gaze as heat flamed across her skin.

The coach frowned. "Take it seriously, you two."

Kayla clenched her jaw. "We are."

But were they?

Because Kayla was starting to think this wasn't about wrestling anymore.

And that scared her.

.