Chapter 33: CHAPTER 33

I stomped to the locker room. I was the first and only-one there. Everyone else had either gone home or stayed behind to flirt with the players outside the building,. My fngers fumbled over the combination, anger blurring the numbers and forcing me to redo it twice before the lock finally clicked. I yanked the door open and grabbed the spare clothes I stashed for emergencies. Unfortunately, all I had were a pair of pants and some sneakers. I'd have to keep the soaked cheer shirt on, but at least I wouldn't feel like I was sitting in a puddle.

I stuffed the damp uniform into a wandering plastic bag and slammed the locker shut. When I stepped out, my eyes saw red. Cross leaned casually against the wall, evidently waiting for me. The gym was empty right now, which meant he sneaked away so no one noticed he wasn't outside anymore.

An enraged finger poked his chest. I leveled him with a glare. "You." I hissed, stepping closer, but the sly smile on his lips worked to inflame me even more. "You have some nerve dropping water on me! I barely have any extra clothes, you moron!"

Cross pinched the edge of my wet top and chuckled darkly. "Wet clothes suit you, Clara. I bet you liked all the boys staring, especially since you're so desperate for a boyfriend."

I inhaled sharply. "To be clear, I told Jacob I'm not interested in a relationship. He got a fake letter too, and I told him it wasn't from me. That's it!"

Too angry to say anything else, I stalked past him, but he yanked me back.

"Wait." He dug into his duffle bag and threw me something. His spare football jersey. The number seven and his last name were emblazoned on the back. "Here. Wear this."

I fisted the shirt in my hands, half-debating if I should just shove it in his face, or accept it and not walk around with this horrible wet top.

Cross decided for me. He pushed the door behind me and shoved me back inside, slamming it closed.

"I’m not letting you out until I see you in my jersey." I rolled my eyes, but gave in. These wet clothes needed to go. Now. I rubbed my fingers across his jersey. The material was thick and heavy.

Screw it.

I stripped the wet shirt and detached my bra. One of the best things about being part of the itty-bitty-titty committee, is I could pull off wearing certain shirts without a bra. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as the dry fabric rolled over me. So much better.

I shoved the rest of my wet clothes into the bag. When I pulled the door open, I met resistance. Cross held it in place, allowing it to part just enough for his face to poke through. When he saw I complied, he let go.

Lifting my chin, I passed by him in a huff. No need for words. Ignoring him alone would aggravate him. Cross easily caught up with me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him.

"Let go of me you idiot!"

He tutted. "So vicious. Is that how you treat your boyfriend?" A smirk tugged at the edge his lips.

"You're not my boyfriend. Everyone knows you're a dog, Nathan Cross."

"True." He shrugged, unbothered. "But dogs can be trained. Are you buying me a leash?" Cross squeezed my hips, fingers digging into my skin beneath his jersey. He looked far too pleased seeing me in his shirt.

I found his comment ironic. If anything, he was the one trying to control me, not the other way around.

Then, his gaze dropped, noticing something below. "No bra already? I didn't know you were ready for us to rumble so soon."

"Cross" I started, but his laughter roled through me, vibrating against my chest.

I raised my hand to slap him again, but he caught it and brought it to his lips for a kiss. He was so full of it. Pretending to be a gentleman when just minutes ago he dumped water over me.

"Hitting is not nice CJ." His nose brushed mine, provoking me. "You're supposed to be the good one in this relationship."

His lips moved against mine as he spoke. Soft. Warm. Deliciously dangerous. My heart accelerated in my chest. It took all my self-control to not lean in and turn it into a real kiss.

A part of me just wanted to get it over with, to see if it would satisfy that competitive part of him and make him back off. But what if I liked it? What if it turned into something more?

The trail of my thoughts made my cheeks burn. "Can we leave now?"

"Do I make you nervous?" he probed. His breath tickled my cheek, the closeness stealing the air from my lungs. I took a deep breath to steady myself, but instead inhaled the scent of Gatorade and grass. The smell of him. If Cross weren't holding me so tightly, I might've melted. What was he doing to me?

"No."

"Really?" He kissed my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck. I squirmed in his arms.

"Fine, yes!" I admitted. This time, when I pushed away, he let me.

Cross smiled. "Come along, babe," he said, emphasizing my new fake title. He threw an arm over my shoulder like we were a real couple and steered us forward. I grudgingly let him, too flustered to fight back.

"You're not my boyfriend," I mumbled. I wasn't going to play along with his joke. The butterflies in my stomach were going crazy, and I didn't like it. I knew these feelings. It was the dormant part of me awakening, rejoicing that this was real.

But it was fake. A means to entertain him until he got bored.

My distress must've shown because Cross placed two fingers at the edge of my mouth and forced them upward. "Turn that frown upside down. You're with Cross the Great. It's an honorable place to be in, you know."

"Yeah, Cross the Great pain in my ass," I muttered darkly.

Many would've agreed with him after the show he put on today. The crowd had chanted his name like an anthem, signs with his face and name waved high in the air. With all that attention, more girls would throw themselves at him. And he'd probably let them. I hated that I even cared.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

My lips remained sealed.

"I told you, I'm serious about this relationship."

I groaned. "Don't start with that again."

"You're the mother of my child," he said solemnly. "What, you think I'd just abandon you in an important time like this?" His eyes even looked worried as he placed a hand over my stomach.

The gasp of a passing student reminded me we were almost outside, where soon everyone could hear us. I slapped my hand over his mouth, fed up with his ridiculousness. "Shut up! Just shut up!"

We reached Amy's car in that same formation: his arm around my shoulder, my hand over his mouth. People eyed us with interest, whispers flying over us as they decided that, yes, their theory was true Cross and I were dating.

They couldn't be more wrong.

When we finally stopped in front of Amy's car, she spared us a glance, then stoically looked ahead without a single word. I refused to release him until I was directly beside the passenger door. He could've removed my hand too, but he didn't. He just watched me; compliant, quiet, and completely ignoring Amy's presence.

"Good-bye," I said, gripping the car handle with one hand and retreating the other from his lips.

Before I could open the door, he caught my wrist. His icy eyes locked on mine, unblinking, as he pressed a slow kiss into my palm

.

"Good bye, CJ."

Cross stayed where he was, hands in his pocket, and eyes watching me. Yes-me. His gaze never wavered to Amy, as if he were silently promising I was the only one he wanted to be with.

My thumb brushed the spot on my palm where his lips had grazed. His touch lingered there like a ghost, following me even after we turned the corner and his silhouette disappeared.