Chapter 2

After hanging up the call, Alora returned to campus. She still had an elective that morning: “Stage Management and Movement Performance.” It was a cross-department course shared between drama and athletes. Originally, she’d taken it to broaden her perspective—and to accompany Caden. Now, the last person she wanted to see was him. But she hadn’t done anything wrong, so there was no reason to avoid it. She was, as always, the first to arrive in the classroom. Not long after she sat down, a sharp pain struck her lower abdomen again. The last time she took emergency contraception, she’d had diarrhea for two days. Though she’d braced for side effects this time, she still underestimated how much it would affect her. Her stomach churned, her whole body weak. She lay her head on her arms on the desk, eyes closed, cold sweat beading along her forehead. Suddenly, a large hand gripped her elbow hard, the force sharp enough to send a stab of pain up her arm. She gasped, another wave of cramps hitting her abdomen. Before she could react, Caden had already dragged her behind the thick curtain at the back of the classroom. Her arm went numb, shoulders tensed, her body trapped in the tight space with nowhere to step back. She jerked her head up—right into Caden’s icy blue eyes. He leaned in, broad shoulders looming, arms strong, chest taut beneath his athletic shirt, the fabric clinging to every sculpted muscle. Heat radiated from him, the air thick with sweat and mint, suffocating. His gaze swept from head to toe, pausing on the skirt she wore today. His expression turned cold, voice low and rough with a growl:
“You’re wearing this again?” Before she could respond, he stepped in, chest pressing her shoulder, arms boxing her in, breath hot against her ear, the cramping in her belly drowned out by the suffocating closeness. “Tell me, you’re still thinking about our moment the other night, aren’t you? Rara?” She raised her head sharply, waiting for the cramps to ease a little. Then she pushed his lips away and snapped, “Don’t touch me.” Caden sneered, his blue eyes dark, voice a low growl. “That’s not what you said last night, Alora.” With that, he moved to kiss her again. Alora immediately began struggling. Just as she thought she wouldn’t break free, footsteps suddenly echoed outside. Voices called out, teasing: “Yo, someone’s behind that curtain, right? Who is it?” “Wouldn’t be Caden, would it?” Hearing the voices, Caden’s eyes cooled, jaw tight. Reluctantly, he let her go, stepping back, gaze still locked on her. He muttered coldly, “Fucking buzzkill.” The next second, he yanked the curtain aside and strode out, movements sharp, exuding an arrogant, aggressive energy as if he didn’t care about the stares around him. As soon as he emerged, the guys in class let out a round of whistles. “Whoa, it’s really Steele!” “But Caden, you didn’t last as long as you do on the field!” Caden swept the room with a glance, blue eyes glinting with amusement, lips curling into a cold smirk. He shrugged casually. “Why so loud? The main event hasn’t even started.” Mason burst out laughing. “Got it, got it, just the appetizer, huh?” “Damn, the drama genius already conquered? Alora’s got a killer body!” “She looks so icy, but I bet she’s wild in bed!” “Our star striker’s the champ both on and off the field!” The classroom erupted in raucous laughter. Behind the curtain, Alora gritted her teeth as she adjusted her clothes, fury burning inside her. She took a deep breath and stepped out, pale-faced, just in time to hear the teasing continue. The guys stared openly at her; the girls whispered among themselves, eyes unreadable. Caden had returned to his seat, scrolling his phone indifferently, not even bothering to look her way. Her chest tightened painfully, eyes stinging. She bit her lip hard, holding back tears. Five days. She repeated it in her mind. Just five more days, and this would all be over. The moment the bell rang, Alora stood up, clutching her books, ready to leave. Her stomach still ached, legs unsteady. She just wanted to rest. Before she reached the door, Mason called out, “Football party tonight, same spot! Alora, you’re coming too!” Alora wanted to refuse, but Caden’s large hand grabbed her wrist again, voice low and commanding: “Let’s go. Don’t drag.” Pain shot through her wrist, her face paling further, but in the end, she couldn’t shake him off. The party was held at a lakeside villa off-campus, the team’s usual spot. As soon as she walked in, Alora spotted Brielle. She wore a sleek fitted dress, makeup flawless, calm and poised in the center of the crowd—drawing eyes effortlessly. Alora, exhausted, pale, and wracked with cramps, hadn’t even bothered with makeup. The last thing she wanted was to interact with Brielle. Caden stood beside her, shoulders tense, gaze drifting unconsciously toward Brielle. “Damn, who invited Brielle?” Mason muttered. Logan shrugged. “She’s here already. Let’s not kill the vibe. Party on.” Soon, someone suggested truth or dare, and the mood picked up. When it was Caden’s turn to spin the bottle, the room buzzed. “Steele! Be honest—where was your last hookup?” Caden smirked, blue eyes sweeping the room, flicking open his lighter with a sharp click. His voice was low, with a rough edge: “Drama hall. Prop room.” The room exploded. “Damn, the drama genius is conquered!” “Harper looks cold, but she must be wild in bed!” “Our football king is champion both on and off the field!” Sitting to the side, Alora gripped the edge of her chair, knuckles white, cramps worsening, sweat soaking her back. She suddenly looked up, just in time to catch Caden’s fleeting glance toward Brielle—eyes icy. Next round, the bottle pointed at Brielle. The room went quiet for two seconds. Mason, tipsy, suddenly shouted: “Brielle, you and Steele used to date, did he take you to the prop room too?” The air froze. Laughter bubbled nervously around them.