The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football #1) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,16

fees. The poor and disenfranchised. At this rate, I may be waiting tables for another year until I find a spot.

“And yet morning will come,” I say to myself. “And you will watch the sunrise.”

I tuck my phone away then glance up to meet River’s gaze. I think he’s been watching me the entire time.

I straighten my shoulders as our eyes cling.

There’s not one expression on his face I can identify.

But it’s his eyes that give him away.

They burn. Smoky sapphires in flames.

My chest rises. “What? You’re pissed? I had to defend you. And me.”

“I’m not angry. Not at all.”

“Then why the smoldering glare, Snake?”

His lids lower, a little smile curling his full lips. “My tattoo is actually a python.”

“Python doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.”

“I’m flattered by the nickname.” His tongue darts out and dips to his bottom lip, sweeping across the skin, and it’s a crime against all women that he looks damn hot doing it.

“Don’t be,” I mutter. “I wasn’t being sweet.”

I’m walking away when he calls out, “Wait.”

I flip around. “Boy, I’ve heard that before. What do you want?”

He stands up and walks to me, his feet eating up the space between us. He stops and stares down at me as we ignore the jostle of people walking around us.

“Well?”

His lashes lower, hiding his eyes as he reaches out. His thumb traces the line of my jaw from my cheek to my chin, his fingers grazing down my throat. “Happy birthday, Anastasia,” he purrs.

My chest tightens, my body buzzing as I sputter and jerk away from him.

He can’t…

He can’t do this to me.

That was not an ordinary birthday wish.

“Stop your games,” I snap.

His lashes lower again. “Not even sorry.”

My hands clench around my backpack. “There’s a thick line between us, River, one you put up a long time ago.”

Whitman approaches us, and River stiffens, dropping my gaze as he shifts in the professor’s direction. Feeling as if I’ve been released by a hungry predator, I whip around and jog out of the room, skipping the elevator to take the stairs. My heart pounds as I keep my head down and dash to my next class.

River Tate is a dangerous man.

And the best thing I can do is stay away from him.

5

After getting my ass reamed by Whitman, I jog to the parking lot and shove my backpack in my black GMC, scrub my face, and take off running. It’s two miles across campus to the athletic administration building, but I need the cold wind in my face. Whitman knows about my issues but doesn’t care. He believes I shouldn’t be in his class. He isn’t wrong. Failure tugs at me, and I run faster.

Doesn’t matter that I’m wearing jeans and not workout gear. I need this, the release from anxiety.

I zoom past a group of ATOs. They call out my name, but I keep going.

For months since Mom got her diagnosis, I’ve been running mentally, from good things that feel fake to bad things that are real. On the outside, I’m cool, the same old River, but sometimes I stop and look hard at people. Don’t they know that life is short? Don’t they see that this world is a fucking scary place?

People can be yanked away from you in one second.

Dad.

Mom.

Hang in there, please, I say to her in my head.

I reach the building and come to a stop, bending over to breathe.

Once on the elevator, I glance down at the buttons on the panel. Three of them look exactly alike. I’ve been in this place enough times to know which button will get me to the fifth floor.

As the elevator rises, I drum out “Yeah!” by Usher on the wall with my fingers. My energy is blasting, my body still twitching after running into Anastasia.

Well. I didn’t exactly run into her.

I waited, knowing she was coming, right after I said I was going to forget about her.

Just needed a small hit of dopamine.

And I got more than I bargained for.

Yeah.

Got a glimpse of what she looks like fired up.

Her lush mouth, that line she has in the middle of her bottom lip.

Those legs in those short skirts. The girl rarely wears pants. Don’t blame her.

With a body like that—

Nope.

What the hell was I thinking, touching her.

It was a fuck-up, a mistake I won’t make again.

I swirl my ring. Boom. Bye. She’s gone. Out of my head.

A text comes in from my boys. It takes me a minute to read because of my