JUST FOR THE SEASON

Three Years Ago

G R E E R

Breaking into Brookehale University was a terrible idea.

I knew it was a terrible idea when Candice suggested it.

I knew it was a terrible idea when Yasmine called it the greatest idea we'd ever had, which should have been enough evidence to cancel the entire thing on principle alone.

I knew it was a terrible idea when Jasmine, our usual source of common sense, stared at the six of us crammed inside Gen's tiny car and said, "For the record, when this ends with somebody getting arrested, I'm telling the police I voted no."

"You didn't vote no," Yasmine reminded her twin.

"I abstained."

"You brought the feathers."

Jasmine looked down at the enormous plastic bag of green feathers sitting between her feet.

"I made a mistake."

And I definitely knew it was a terrible idea when Carmen opened the boot and revealed enough green sticky notes to wallpaper a small country.

Yet somehow, two hours later, there I was.

Inside the Brookehale Ironblues' changing room.

Committing what was probably several crimes with five of my closest friends.

In my defence, we'd won.

Not just won.

We'd beaten Brookehale.

At Brookehale.

Three-two.

After they'd spent the entire week running their mouths about how Greenwood's winning streak was about to end.

I'd scored the winner in the eighty-eighth minute.

There were some victories that made you shake hands politely, thank the referee and go home.

There were other victories that apparently convinced six university students that breaking into their rival's changing room with approximately four thousand green sticky notes and several hundred fake bird feathers from the craft store was reasonable behaviour.

"Oi Camden!"

I turned.

Candice stood on one of Brookehale's benches, arms spread wide, admiring our work.

Every locker was green.

Every mirror was green.

Every bench was green.

Green sticky notes covered the walls from floor to ceiling. We'd even spelled GO GREENHAWKS across the far wall in enormous black letters.

And the feathers.

God, the feathers.

They were everywhere.

Inside lockers.

Across benches.

Stuck to mirrors.

Piled inside showers.

Somebody, and I strongly suspected Yasmine, had poured an entire bag into a ceiling vent.

"We're artists," Candice whispered.

"We're idiots."

"Those things aren't mutually exclusive."

Gen glanced at her phone. "We need to go."

"Yes," Jasmine said immediately. "Wonderful. Fantastic. Finally somebody has rediscovered survival instincts."

Yasmine was filming the room.

"Stop filming evidence," I hissed.

"But look at it."

"Yasmine."

"Fine."

She stopped recording.

Then immediately took a picture.

"Yasmine!"

"What? Memories."

I grabbed her phone.

She gasped. "But Greer!"

"Move."

Everyone started laughing as I shoved the phone into the front pocket of her hoodie and pushed her toward the door.

Adrenaline was still singing through me from the match. My legs were exhausted, my hair was still slightly damp and curling from the quickest shower known to mankind, and I could still feel the phantom roar of the crowd from when the ball hit the net.

We'd beaten Brookehale.

We'd beaten Brookehale on their own field.

And tomorrow morning, their soccer team was going to walk into this.

I couldn't stop grinning.

Carmen hooked her arm through mine. "Worth it?"

I looked around.

Thousands of green squares.

Hundreds of ridiculous feathers.

Candice attempting to stick one final note to the ceiling despite being nowhere near tall enough.

"Absolutely."

That was when the door opened.

A man in a security uniform stared at us.

We stared at him.

There was a long, horrible silence.

A green feather floated gently between us.

The security guard looked at the room.

Then at us.

Then back at the room.

Candice jumped off the bench.

"RUN!"

Chaos.

Absolute fucking chaos.

We exploded through the opposite door.

Someone screamed.

Someone else laughed.

I heard the security guard shouting behind us.

Shoes pounded against tile as we tore down the corridor.

"LEFT!" Gen yelled.

"No, right!" Jasmine shouted.

"WHY ARE WE SPLITTING UP?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

Candice grabbed my hand.

Yasmine disappeared through a doorway.

Gen went after her.

Carmen and Jasmine bolted down another corridor.

Candice dragged me around a corner before another shout echoed behind us.

"There!"

"Shit!"

We changed direction.

My lungs were already burning.

"Candice!"

"Keep running!"

"This was your idea!"

"And it was a great one!"

"WE'RE BEING CHASED BY SECURITY!"

"Every great idea has consequences!"

We reached an intersection.

Footsteps came from behind us.

Then another set from somewhere ahead.

Candice looked left.

I looked right.

"Split!"

"What?"

"Meet at the car!"

Before I could argue, she shoved me toward one corridor and sprinted down the other.

"Candice!"

Gone.

Traitor.

I ran.

I had no idea where I was going.

Brookehale's athletic complex had apparently been designed by someone who hated both logic and emergency evacuation procedures. Every corridor looked exactly the same. Blue doors. White walls. Brookehale logos everywhere.

I turned left.

Dead end.

"Fuck."

Back.

Right.

Stairwell.

Down.

Another corridor.

Voices.

I froze.

A flashlight beam swept across the wall ahead.

I ducked behind a vending machine and pressed myself against the wall.

Two security guards passed the intersection.

"...check the west entrance."

"I've got Miller checking outside."

I held my breath.

Their footsteps faded.

I waited.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Twenty.

Nothing.

I slipped out.

At some point, running became creeping.

Creeping became hiding.

Hiding became wandering around Brookehale University for what felt like the rest of my natural life.

My phone buzzed.

CANDICE: OUT!!!

Another.

YASMINE: WE MADE IT 😭😭😭

JASMINE: Where are you?

GEN: Greer?

CARMEN: PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE OUT

I typed while walking.

ME: Still inside.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

CANDICE: WHAT

ME: Lost.

CANDICE: HOW

I stopped walking.

ME: I HAVE NEVER BEEN HERE BEFORE CANDICE

CANDICE: okay fair

CANDICE: want us to come back

I stared at that message.

ME: Absolutely fucking not.

I shoved my phone away.

There had to be an exit somewhere.

I just needed one sign.

One door.

One blessed glimpse of outside.

I turned another corner.

And there it was.

EXIT.

Beautiful.

Glowing.

Possibly the most attractive thing I'd ever seen.

"Oh, thank God."

I hurried toward it.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen.

Ten.

Freedom was right there.

I pushed through the next set of doors, glanced over my shoulder to make sure nobody was behind me and walked directly into a wall.

Except the wall was warm.

And wearing a shirt.

And made a quiet oof when my forehead hit it.

I stumbled backward.

A hand caught my arm.

"Easy."

My stomach dropped.

Black trousers.

Dark shirt.

Security badge: MILLER.

Oh, fuck me.

I slowly looked up.

And up.

Jesus.

If Brookehale had mentioned this in their recruitment brochures, I might have applied.

He was tall.

Not regular tall.

Annoyingly tall.

Broad shoulders filled out the dark security shirt, and dark brown almost black hair fell slightly over his forehead in a way that suggested he'd run his hand through it several times tonight. His complexion was pale but warmed by a tan, and dark-framed glasses sat over startlingly blue eyes.

Then there was the mouth.

Because apparently God had decided the situation wasn't difficult enough.

His lips twitched.

A dimple appeared.

A fucking dimple.

"Going somewhere?"

My brain, usually a reliable organ, abandoned me.

"No."

His eyebrows lifted.

I glanced at the enormous glowing EXIT sign directly behind him.

He glanced at it too.

Then back at me.

"Right."

"I mean yes."

"Better."

"But not anywhere I'm not supposed to be going."

That dimple deepened.

I hated him already.

Probably.

He looked down at the hand still around my arm and released me.

I immediately missed it, which was pathetic.

"Want to try that sentence again, Sweetheart?"

"No."

"Fair enough."

He studied me.

Not suspiciously, exactly.

Amusedly.

Which was worse.

"Name?"

"Why?"

"Usually how introductions work."

"You haven't introduced yourself."

He nodded slowly, accepting that.

"Miller."

"That your first name?"

"No."

"Then you haven't introduced yourself."

His mouth twitched again.

"Kai Miller."

Kai.

Of course his name was Kai.

Nobody who looked like this was called Bernard.

"And you are?"

".....Sarah."

"Sarah."

"Yes."

He looked me over.

I tried not to look guilty.

It was difficult when I was, in fact, extremely guilty.

"Sarah what?"

"Smith."

He actually laughed.

Not loudly.

Just one disbelieving breath through his nose.

"What?"

"Nothing, Sarah Smith."

"It is a very common name."

"Conveniently."

"My parents valued simplicity above individuality amongst my peers."

"Clearly."

I folded my arms.

"You always interrogate innocent women trying to leave buildings, Officer Miller?"

"Only the ones sweating, out of breath and suspiciously looking over their shoulder every six seconds."

I immediately stopped looking over my shoulder.

Kai smiled.

"Subtle."

"It's warm out."

"This building is air conditioned."

"Maybe not enough. Explains the sweating."

"And the running?"

"Cardio."

"At this time?"

"I'm dedicated to my fitness goals."

His eyes dropped.

I followed his gaze.

There was a green feather stuck to a strand of my curling hair.

Shit.

I plucked it off.

Kai watched me do it.

Neither of us spoke.

I tucked it behind my back.

His eyebrows rose.

"Is there a problem?"

That got me another laugh.

A proper one this time.

It changed his whole face.

And that was irritating because I was currently trying to escape both arrest and whatever disciplinary nightmare awaited me if Greenwood found out its women's soccer captain had been caught vandalising Brookehale's facilities.

I didn't have time to notice that a security guard had really nice teeth.

Kai leaned slightly against the wall.

"So, Sarah Smith."

"Yes?"

"What exactly are you doing here?"

"I was visiting."

"Who?"

"A friend."

"Name?"

I stared at him.

"You're real nosy."

"Occupational hazard I'm afraid."

"Emily."

"Emily what?"

"Jones."

He bit his bottom lip.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Don't laugh."

"I'm trying very hard."

"My friends have common names."

"Apparently."

He folded his arms.

It made his shoulders look wider.

I needed him to stop doing things with his body.

"Where's Emily?"

"Asleep."

"Without saying goodbye?"

"We're not very close."

"Yet you visited her at midnight."

"We have a complicated friendship."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Emily Jones sounds exhausting."

"She is."

"And where does Emily live?"

"Here."

"At Brookehale."

"Yes."

"Which building?"

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Kai waited.

"North..."

His lips twitched.

"...Hall."

"North Hall."

"Yes."

"There isn't a North Hall."

Fuck.

"Then that explains why I couldn't find it."

He laughed again.

I hated how much I liked making him laugh.

I also hated the little burst of heat in my stomach every time that dimple appeared.

"Okay." He pushed away from the wall. "Let's try something easier."

"I think we've established I'm not good under interrogation."

"I've noticed."

He took one step closer.

I held my ground.

Mostly because stepping backward would have looked cowardly.

Partly because he smelled annoyingly good.

"Where are you going?"

I pointed behind him.

"Out."

"Finally, an honest answer."

"See? We're making progress."

"I'm proud of us."

"Can I go now?"

"No."

The word landed gently.

My stomach did not.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

"Officer Miller.....Kai, if I may."

His eyebrows lifted.

Interesting.

Apparently he liked hearing his name from me.

"I haven't done anything."

"Didn't say you had."

"Then you have no probable reason to stop me."

"There are six security guards currently looking for a group of girls who broke into the soccer changing room."

"Sounds serious."

"Very."

"Hope you find them, breaking and entering is no joke."

His gaze dropped to the hand behind my back.

"Reckless criminals, pure scum," I added.

"Mhm."

"You should probably go help, I don't want to keep you from tracking those criminals down."

"I probably should."

Neither of us moved.

Then he leaned down slightly.

Not enough to invade my space.

Enough that I became very aware of how little space there actually was between us.

"Problem is," he said quietly, "I think one of them might be standing in front of me."

My pulse stumbled.

I widened my eyes.

"That's a serious accusation, Officer Miller."

"Technically I'm not an officer."

"Security Guard Miller."

"Somehow worse."

"Mall Cop Miller?"

His head tilted.

"Now you're being hurtful."

I smiled before I could stop myself.

His eyes caught it.

Something changed.

Tiny.

There and gone.

But suddenly this felt less like an interrogation and more like something else entirely.

Which was ridiculous.

I was trespassing.

He was security.

My friends were probably sitting in Gen's car deciding how long they had to wait before reporting me missing.

Kai's gaze lingered on my face.

"So," he said. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

My mouth went dry.

There were at least fourteen inappropriate answers to that question I desperately wanted to explore tonight.

I selected none of them.

"Let me leave?"

"That's one option."

"The best option."

"Debatable."

"What are the others?"

"I call the guys looking for you."

My stomach sank.

He must have seen it because some of the teasing left his expression.

"Relax."

"I am relaxed."

"You look like you're calculating whether you can outrun me."

I was.

"You can't."

My eyes narrowed. "You don't know that."

"Soccer player?"

I froze.

His grin returned.

"Thought so."

"That proves nothing."

"Greenwood?"

Silence.

His eyebrows rose.

Damn it.

I was terrible at this.

"You're not exactly a criminal mastermind, Sarah."

"Maybe that's what I want you to think, Miller."

"Right."

He reached toward his radio.

I grabbed his wrist.

"Wait."

He stopped.

My hand was around his wrist.

His eyes dropped to it.

So did mine.

I let go immediately.

"Please."

The word tasted awful.

I hated asking.

His expression softened just enough to make me suspicious.

"You're going to get me fired."

"I don't even know you."

"That's generally how getting strangers fired works."

"I won't tell anyone."

"That you were here?"

"That you let me go."

"So you admit you were doing something wrong."

"No."

He laughed.

"Worth a try."

I glanced at the exit.

So close.

One door between me and freedom.

When I looked back, Kai was watching me.

Not the fist behind my back.

Not the corridor.

Me.

His gaze moved over my face with an openness that should have made me uncomfortable.

It didn't.

That was probably the stupidest thing I'd done tonight.

And considering the changing room currently looked like a craft store had exploded inside it, that was saying something.

"Okay," he said.

I blinked. "Okay?"

"I'll let you go."

Suspicion arrived immediately.

"Why?"

"Because I'm clearly terrible at my job."

"No argument here."

His smile widened.

"But I want something in return."

There it was.

I folded my arms again.

"I have twenty-three pounds, a student ID you are absolutely not seeing and half a packet of gum."

"Tempting."

"What do you want?"

"Your name."

I stared at him.

"You already have it."

"Your real name."

"My name is Sarah."

"Your real name."

"Sarah."

"I'm going to radio the others."

"Greer."

His hand stopped halfway toward the radio.

He looked at me.

I swallowed.

"Greer," I repeated.

Something about giving him my real name felt far more intimate than it should have.

"Greer what?"

I hesitated.

"Greer what?"

"Camden."

He smiled.

Not the teasing smirk.

Something smaller.

Warmer.

"Greer Camden."

"Don't wear it out."

"Better than Sarah Smith."

"Sarah Smith has depth."

"She has terrible friends."

"Emily Jones will be devastated."

He laughed.

I should have been trying harder to leave.

Instead I was smiling at him like an idiot.

"Okay," I said. "You have my name. Deal fulfilled."

I stepped toward the door.

Kai moved sideways.

Blocked me again.

I stopped.

"You said you'd let me go."

"I said I wanted something."

"You got it."

"I wasn't finished."

My eyes narrowed.

"What else?"

"Your number."

I stared at him.

For a second, I genuinely thought I'd misheard him.

"My what?"

"Phone number."

"Why?"

He gave me a look.

I gave him one back.

"Use your words, Miller."

His grin appeared again.

"To call you, potentially ask you out on a date."

I blinked.

"You're blackmailing me into giving you my phone number?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds bad."

"It is bad."

"I prefer negotiating."

"You're holding my freedom hostage."

"That's dramatic."

"You're security."

"Part-time security."

"Oh, excellent. Much less concerning."

"I'm also a student."

"At Brookehale?"

He nodded.

"Soccer scholarship."

That explained the build.

And the confidence.

And why he'd immediately clocked me as a player.

I looked at his radio.

Then the exit.

Then him.

"You could just ask."

"I am asking."

"After threatening to report me."

"I said there were options."

"You're unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

I should have said no.

Obviously.

This was a stranger.

A stranger from Brookehale.

A stranger currently wearing a security uniform while I was trespassing inside his university after vandalising their soccer changing room.

Every instinct I possessed should have been screaming absolutely not.

Unfortunately, he had blue eyes.

And glasses.

And that stupid dimple.

And he was looking at me with an expression that said he knew exactly how badly I wanted to pretend I wasn't attracted to him.

I sighed.

"Give me your phone."

His eyebrows lifted.

"Really?"

"Before I regain my dignity."

He pulled his phone from his pocket immediately.

I snatched it.

"Eager."

"Terrified you'll come to your senses."

"I already have."

"Then give it back."

I turned away from him.

He laughed softly behind me.

I typed my number into his contacts.

Name.

I paused.

Then typed:

Sarah Smith

I handed the phone back.

He looked at the screen.

Then at me.

"Cute."

"I thought so."

He changed it.

I tried to see.

He tilted the screen away.

"What did you put?"

"None of your business."

"That's my number."

"My phone."

"Kai."

"Greer."

I hated the way my name sounded in his voice.

No.

Correction.

I hated how much I liked it.

"How do I know this is really your number?"

"Call it," I said.

His smile slowly widened.

He tapped the screen.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

Unknown number.

I held it up.

"There."

"Now you've got mine."

"Lucky me."

"Try to contain your excitement."

"I'll do my best."

A voice crackled through his radio.

"Miller, you got anything by the south exit?"

We both froze.

My eyes snapped to his.

Kai lifted the radio.

His gaze stayed on mine.

My heartbeat was so loud I could hear it.

He pressed the button.

"Nothing here."

Silence.

Then:

"Copy. Check the lower corridor."

Kai lowered the radio.

I stared at him.

He'd actually done it.

He'd lied.

For me.

A girl whose real name he'd learned approximately sixty seconds ago.

"Go," he said.

I didn't move.

"You're serious?"

"Before I change my mind."

I stepped around him.

My hand reached the door.

"Greer."

I looked back.

He stood beneath the harsh corridor lights, one hand in his pocket, that infuriating half smile pulling at his mouth.

"You're going to answer when I call, right?"

I smiled despite myself.

"Depends."

"On?"

"How good your opening line is."

"Pressure."

"You'll survive."

"And if you gave me a fake number?"

"You called it."

"Could be a burner phone specifically for criminal activity."

"You caught me. I'm actually an international sticky-note fugitive."

"I knew it."

I pushed open the door.

Cold night air rushed over me.

"Camden."

I looked over my shoulder again.

He was smiling.

"Don't make me regret this."

Something warm curled low in my stomach.

I walked backward through the doorway.

"You won't."

His expression changed again.

That softer one.

"Goodnight, Greer."

"Goodnight, Kai."

Then I ran.

Not because security was chasing me this time.

Because my friends were waiting.

Because adrenaline was still roaring through my bloodstream.

Because we'd beaten Brookehale.

Because we'd covered their entire changing room in green.

And because somewhere behind me was a ridiculously handsome security guard with my phone number.

By the time I reached Gen's car, Candice practically launched herself through the open passenger window.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"

"Lost."

"You were gone forty minutes!"

Yasmine leaned between the seats. "Did you get arrested?"

"No."

"Did you get spotted?"

"No."

"Did you fight anyone?"

"No."

Carmen shoved Candice aside. "Why are you smiling?"

My smile vanished.

"I'm not."

Five faces stared at me.

"You are," Jasmine said.

"I am  not."

"And you're blushing highly suspicious," Candice whispered.

"I ran here."

Gen looked at me through the rearview mirror.

"Greer."

"Drive."

Candice gasped.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Something happened."

"Drive, Gen."

Yasmine grabbed my shoulders from behind.

"DID YOU MEET SOMEONE?"

"Would everybody shut up?"

That was apparently confirmation.

The car erupted.

I spent the entire drive back to Greenwood denying everything.

I denied Kai was hot.

He was.

I denied flirting with him.

I had.

I denied giving him my number.

That one lasted approximately six minutes before Candice stole my phone and discovered the missed call.

"WHO IS Officer Miller?"

I nearly caused a motorway collision trying to get the phone back.

By the time we reached campus, they'd planned our wedding.

I told them all to go to hell.

Then I went upstairs, showered again, climbed into bed and put my phone on the pillow beside me.

Just in case.

It didn't ring.

At one in the morning, I checked it.

Nothing.

At one fifteen, I told myself I didn't care.

At one forty-three, I checked again.

Nothing.

At two, I decided Kai Miller was an asshole.

At two thirty, I wondered if he'd gotten caught letting me go.

At three, I wondered if I'd somehow entered my number wrong despite watching his call come through.

At three seventeen, I hated myself.

Eventually, I fell asleep.

I dreamed about blue eyes, green feathers and dimples.

At eight twelve the next morning, somebody pounded on our door.

I groaned and dragged the pillow over my face.

The pounding came again.

"Greer!" Candice shouted from somewhere in the flat. "Door!"

"Kill them."

"They're asking for you."

I sat up.

My phone lay beside me.

No missed calls.

No messages.

Nothing from Kai.

Fantastic.

I dragged myself out of bed, shoved my hair out of my face and stumbled toward the front door wearing shorts and an oversized Greenwood sweatshirt.

Candice stood beside it.

She wasn't smiling.

That woke me faster than coffee ever could.

"What?"

Her eyes were wide.

"Greer..."

I looked past her.

Two campus security officers stood in the corridor.

My stomach dropped.

"Greer Camden?"

The older one looked at me.

"Yes?"

"We need to speak with you regarding an incident at Brookehale University last night."

Everything inside me went still.

Behind me, nobody made a sound.

Not Candice.

Not Gen.

Not Yasmine.

Not Jasmine.

Not Carmen.

I heard Kai's voice from the night before.

Your real name.

My name.

He'd asked for my name.

My number.

He'd promised he'd look the other way.

And then he'd never called.

I felt stupid.

That was the worst part.

Not frightened.

Not even angry yet.

Stupid.

Because for one ridiculous night, I'd trusted a man.

I looked at the officers.

Then down at the phone still clutched in my hand.

At the unknown number sitting there from last night.

Kai Miller.

Of course.

I lifted my chin.

"What do you want to know?"