“Just the fact that you haven’t run away from me yet shows that your fear is weaker than your curiosity.”
Bay scrutinized me with an insistent look. As so often, my gaze lingered on the different-colored eyes and the cute snub nose.
“You should try to stay away from all that witchcraft.”
I was sure Diana would be proud of me right now.
“Do you think they’ll give me a choice?” Her gaze was insistent, and a few cloud shadows darkened her delicate face. “They still think I’m one of them.”
I almost told her that maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth, but I kept my mouth shut.
All this was foreign to her. Unlike people like Julie, Grace or Vivienna, who had grown up here, Bayla was an outsider. Just like me.
“You’re not one of them...” I began slowly. “Even if you could do everything they ask of you, you’re not used to any of this.”
She looked at me as if I had somehow understood her.
Then, all of a sudden and only in the corner of my eye, I noticed the football flying straight toward Bay and me.
I caught the ball with one hand just before it could hit Bayla.
“Wow” Bay was a bit perplexed by the speed of things. “How the hell...”
“Hey! Bardot!”
Bayla and I looked at the source of the voice.
What a jerk.
None other than Nash Copeland stood shirtless and with both arms crossed on the green open space of campus, grinning condescendingly at me.
“Good catch!” he shouted loudly, and his guys laughed.
In the corner of my eye, I saw Emely shake her head and put on her pine green Vanderwood baseball cap.
Bayla looked first at Nash, then at me.
“Do you know each other personally?”
“You bet we do,” I gritted.
“Don’t always flirt with the girls, Bardot!”
Again, his guys laughed.
“Don’t take it personally,” Bayla said, and I tried to listen to her, but Nash didn’t seem to want to stop.
“I’d like to know if you can play as well as you can flirt.” He looked at his friends. “So, obviously, not at all...”
“Oooh!” It came from Noah and also from a few others around us who had paused in their actions and were now looking at me and Bayla or at Nash.
“Julian, let’s go.”
Bayla grabbed my arm, but I stood still. More than that. I looked at Nash.
“Come on, Bardot!”
“Bardot, Bardot, Bardot!” he shouted, clapping his hands, and his friends joined in.
Don’t do it. I heard Emely in my head. She was trying to communicate with me, but I cut the connection.
Neither Nash nor her father had put an alpha bond on me, but Emely somehow always made it into my head.
“Hold this,” I said, taking off my shirt to hand it to Bayla, who accepted it, partly confused, partly overwhelmed.
Again, people cheered as I ran onto the field in just my sweatpants to show Nash how to play properly.
We’d practiced together for years in high school, until it had been over for me.
Now Nash looked at me with a condescending grin, as if he’d forgotten those days, and divided his guys into two teams. Hunter and Noah came to me.
Of course, he sent the one who probably liked me the least and one who couldn’t really play, even though he was very well trained.
What we were going to play here wasn’t a real football game, but something similar, a silly little game, part of the pack duels.
I threw the ball to one of the guys from my team on Nash’s side, got into position and ignored all the people gathered around us, some of whom had their cell phones out.
“Let’s go!” one of the guys on the edge of the imaginary pitch shouted.
