Chapter 101 THE HEART OF PINNTHORPE
MERRIELYNN.
I sat in the front row, feeling out of place and like everyone’s eyes were on me.
To my left were the cheerleaders, chatting in quick bursts between their routines. To my right, players came and went, sweating and swearing under their breath as they plopped down on the bench.
It was Sunday—game day—and Cormac had somehow gotten me this spot, right where the action happened.
I kept shifting in my seat, trying to blend in even though I knew I didn’t. I wasn’t used to this. Usually, Emorie and I sat up in the regular seats, a little far from the action, where no one really noticed us. But today? Today, I was right in the middle of it all, front and center, surrounded by the heat and action of the game.
When I asked Cormac about the school paper project last week, I didn’t expect this. I just needed an interview.
“I’ll handle it,” had been his answer.
I didn’t realize his version of “handling it” meant throwing me into the middle of his world like this.
A loud whistle snapped me out of my thoughts and I watched a group of players jog past, a few of them glanced my way. I swallowed nervously, wondering why I agreed to this.
I kept my gaze fixed on the field in front of me, refusing to look behind me again. The last time I did, I caught a group of girls staring. Talking and pointing at me. I didn’t need to guess why. It wasbecause of Cormac.
Lately, everyone seemed fascinated by whatever this thing between us was turning into.
Our ‘dynamic,’ as Emorie had called it, was getting too much attention.
At school, I tried to keep my distance and keep things neutral because everyone still remembered how it used to be—the toxicity and the outright fights.
Now? Now, we weren’t always at each other’s throats, and that seemed to confuse people.
Hell, it confused me, too.
And I didn’t want to deal with the questions or the rumors that followed.
Well, how far off would the rumors be considering we’d literally been screwing for weeks?
I crossed my arms and focused harder on the game, pretending not to notice the occasional glance from the cheerleaders or the whispering behind me.
Cormac came back with snacks: popcorn, two drinks, and a bag of something that smelled salty and fried. “Here,” he said, sitting down beside me and handing over a drink.
“Thanks.” I tucked the cup into the holder beside me and grabbed my notebook and pen. “We should get this over with.”
He raised an eyebrow, leaning back as he stuffed a fry into his mouth. “You’re so fidgety. Relax.
“Just answer the questions,” I said, rolling my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “I need something for this article that isn’t your usual sarcasm.”
“Fine, fine.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Hit me with your best shot.”
I flipped to my notes and glanced at my list. “Alright, first question. Why football? What made you want to play this sport over anything else?”
Cormac shrugged, but his eyes lit up in a way that caught me off guard. “Honestly? It’s the strategy. People think it’s just about being strong or fast, but it’s a mental game. You’ve gotta know your team, know the field, anticipate what the other side’s gonna do before they even know themselves.”
I nodded, scribbling down his words. “Okay, what’s your favorite position to play, and why?”
“Quarterback,” he answered immediately. “Because it’s all on me to make the right calls. I like the pressure. And don’t ask if it gets overwhelming—”
“I wasn’t going to,” I said quickly, earning a grin from him.
We continued like that, me asking questions while the game played on in the background.
As we talked, Cormac’s energy grew. When a foul happened on the field, he nudged me and pointed to the field. “See that? Ref’s calling it because he tripped him after the pass. Now, depending on the severity, they could call it a personal foul, and if there’s another, the player might get ejected.”
I blinked up at him, feeling flighty as he broke apart the game so I could understand better.
Was that supposed to be so attractive?
He smirked. “Told you—it’s all strategy.”
By the time my pages were full, I’d gotten more than enough material. I sighed in relief, setting my pen down, but Cormac grabbed the notebook before I could close it.
“Hey—”
“Relax,” he said, flipping through the pages. “I wanna see how good of a writer you really are.”
As thegame went on, I noticed Valtor on the field, jogging back toward the huddle. His jersey was drenched in sweat. He suddenly glanced toward the benches, and when his eyes landed on Cormac and me, his frown deepened before he turned and jogged away.
I couldn’t help when I asked, “Why does he hate me?” I turned toCormac, nodding toward his best friend.
Cormac looked up from flipping through my notebook as he tried to follow my line of sight. He followed my gaze, watching Valtor for a moment before stating,“He doesn’t hate you.”
“He’s not like thinking... I’m stealing you from him or something like that.”
He was staring down at the book, “Maybe.”
I rolled my eyes, but Cormac leaned over and nudged me with his elbow, a playful grin on his face. “Enough about, Val. Admit it. You’re actually enjoying the game, aren’t you?”
I simply laughed at that before asking, “Why do you love football so much?”
Cormac hesitated and for a moment, he looked like he was thinking about the question. “I don’t think I can answer that.”
“Why not?” I pressed, genuinely curious now.
He leaned back, his gaze drifting to the field, as if the answer was somewhere out there. “It’s not about loving it. It’s about falling in love with it. There’s a difference.”
I frowned, confused. “Okay, then how’d you fall in love with it?”
Cormac exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.“One of my dad’s betas taught me how to play. Before your—” He abruptly stopped, frowned, and then cleared his throat. “Before the next oneshowed up.”
“Does he ever come to your games?”
Cormac frowned again, leaned forward and then asked, “You know how it works with betas, right? They fight to be next in line. Sometimes, it’s not just a fight—it’s a kill.”
I turned to him and blinked, processing what he’d just said. “So… you must’ve hated the beta who replaced the one who taught youabout the sport you loved.”
He quickly averted his gaze before answering. “Not exactly,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. “Because through him, I met someone.”
My mind jumped to the girl in the photo I’d taken from his room.
The one I shouldn’t have seen.
I found myself whispering before I could stop myself.“His daughter?”
Cormac nodded, and I felt my heart sink a little further. “Yeah.”
I swallowed, forcing myself to ask. “Did you… get together?”
He shook his head, looking towards the field now. “No.”
I hesitated. “But you liked her?”
Cormac glanced at me and gave a small smile. “Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” I pressed because I was really, really curious.
His jaw tensed for a moment before he spoke, and I could have sworn I noticed a glint in his eye before he said , “I think I was in love with her.”
“Oh,” I said as a bitter ache settled in my chest. I turned back to the field, pretending to focus on the game, but it was all noise now.
Cormac’s voice came again. “But she’s a different girl now.”
I looked at him, trying to sound casual. “Different? Good or bad?”
He tilted his head in a brief thoughtful silence, watching me with lazy heat.“Still deciding.”
I hesitated again.“Are you still in contact with her?”
“Not exactly,” he said, the same small smile returning to his lips.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What does that even mean?”
His grin widened, and he leaned closer. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Merrielynn.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I turned back toward the field, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms like he’d won some unspoken argument.
I tried to focus on the game as the second half wound down, but it was useless.
All I could think about was Cormac and the fact that he might still be... in love with some other girl.