chapter 13 Lara

I should have stopped him.

Every logical part of my brain told me that.

I should have swatted his hands away, rolled my eyes, told him I didn't need his

help. That's what I always did. That's what we always did.

But I didn't.

Instead, I let Jack press his thumbs into my

shoulders, working through the soreness from hours of training. His hands were

warm, steady—like he knew exactly where the pain was before I even flinched.

It felt good.

Too good.

I kept waiting for the moment when the usual

irritation would kick in. When I'd remember that this was Jack—my childhood enemy, the person I'd spent years fighting with, the person who had made my life a competition before I even understood what competition was.

But the longer he kept going, the more I wanted to forget.

Forget the rivalry.

Forget the constant back-and-forth, the need to always have the last word.

Forget that I was supposed to hate him.

Because right now, sitting on this bench, muscles aching, his hands moving with quiet determination, I didn't feel like his

enemy.

I felt like his friend.

And somehow, that was even more dangerous.

"Tomorrow. Same time."

I groaned. "Why do you hate me?"

Remembering all the reasons

why I hate him!

He smirked. "See you at five."

The streets were quiet, the night air cool against my skin. My legs ached from training, exhaustion settling deep in my muscles,

but my mind was alert. Something about pushing myself this hard felt… good.

I turned the corner, already thinking about crashing into bed, when I saw someone standing near a streetlamp.

Steve.

I slowed down. There was something off about the way he stood—shoulders tense, head slightly tilted down. His hands were curled into fists, and even from a distance, I could tell something was wrong.

As I got closer, the strong scent of alcohol hit me.

My stomach twisted.

"Steve?" I called hesitantly.

He looked up, and the moment our eyes met, I knew.

He wasn't just drunk. He was furious.

His jaw was clenched, his breathing heavy, and his bloodshot eyes held a sharp, burning anger that made my pulse quicken.

"You knew, didn't you?" His voice was quiet, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

I frowned. "Knew what?"

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Of

course, you'd pretend. Of course."

His gaze snapped back to mine, sharper now. "Tomorrow. The coach is announcing

the team leader. And guess what, Lara?" He took a step closer, his movements

unsteady but controlled. "It's Jack."

I froze.

I didn't know. I hadn't known. But now, hearing it—seeing the way Steve's face twisted with anger—I felt the weight of what that meant.

Steve had wanted that position. Badly. And now he knew he wasn't getting it.

"Steve, I—"

"Shut up," he snapped, making me flinch.

My heart pounded.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

"Everything. Everything I worked for. And he gets it. Just like that." He laughed, but there was nothing amused about it. "And you—" His eyes locked onto mine again, darker this time. "You're with him all the time now, aren't

you?"

I took a step back. "Steve, I don't—"

"Don't what?" He moved forward. Too fast. Too close. Before I could react, his

hand grabbed my arm, his grip tight. "Tell me, Lara. Are you on his side now?"

Panic flared in my chest. I tried to yank my arm back, but he wouldn't let go.

"Steve, stop," I said, my voice sharper now.

But he wasn't listening.

His other hand landed on my waist, fingers pressing in. "You think he's better than me?" His voice dropped lower, turning almost

bitter. "You think he deserves this

more than me?"

I shoved at his chest. "Let go."

He didn't. His grip tightened, his nails digging

into my skin.

My breath hitched.

This wasn't Steve being drunk. This wasn't him just being upset. This was something else.

I didn't wait to find out what.

I twisted my arm sharply, breaking free from his hold. The second I did, I turned and ran.

I didn't stop. Didn't look back.

I didn't need to.

Because I could hear him curse behind me. Could hear the sharpness of his breath, the anger that still lingered.

But he didn't chase me.

And I didn't stop running until I was home.