Chapter 50 What is wrong with me?
Tegan
My knees were still weak, the phantom pressure of Hayes’s hand on my throat a brand that pulsed with every heartbeat. The walk back to the VIP seats felt like moving through a dream, or a nightmare. Get your shit together Tegan.
The crowd’s roar was a distant buzz, secondary to the memory of his mouth on mine, the searing claim he’d left on my skin. The asshole just kissed me in front of the whole school and fans from St Whitmore, also strangers who didn't go to our school.
Fuck, and I fucking whimpered and moaned like a needy slut. I felt so dirty, thankfully their attention wasn't on me but the narcissistic jocks on the ice.
I sank into the plush seat beside Charlie, who was buzzing with frantic energy. “Tegs! He kissed you! He bit you! In front of literally everyone!” she squealed.
Being reminded just makes me want to crawl into a hole. But she doesn't decode we don't share the same energy, or she does but ignores it as she continues yapping. At least she looks better than she did days ago when she just told me about Ethan and all of that. I hope it's not all an act and she's truly happy now.
Surprisingly or not so surprisingly, Tessa Bloom stopped posting the creepy shits about Ethan's death and #justiceforethan after that day, whatever Hayes did still remains a mystery to me. But I'm sure with the scene he just caused right now she'll have enough to talk about for a long time. Shit, I hope Papa doesn't see it.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled, my voice thick. I couldn’t look at her. I felt exposed, raw.
About to sink further into the chair and sulk for the rest of the time we'll be spending here. I notice a girl seated slightly away from us. The Rogues VIP seats.
The VIP rows were empty because these jocks either didn't have people who loved them enough to come watch their game or they didn't invite anyone.
Well we were the only ones here at the VIP seats, the seats were that stupidly too close to the ice so I got a nice view of the game, or Hayes rather.
The girl looked a bit familiar, radiating a serene, unshakeable poise that felt alien in this chaos. She had gorgeous auburn hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders and a face dusted with visible freckles across her cheeks and nose. Her eyes were a stunning dark red-hazel, like polished mahogany, and they held a gentle, knowing warmth. Matching the color of her hair.
She wore a simple but elegant sweater dress and seemed utterly at ease, except for the occasional, sharp glare she shot toward the Rogues’ side of the ice. My eyes followed her and noticed she'd been glaring daggers at Hector Caldwell.
Interesting.
Charlie shared a look with me before she leaned over. “You’re… not a fan, are you? You seem too calm.”
The girl turned, slightly shocked at the voice that just invaded her space. Then she smiled, a sweet, genuine curve of her lips.
“I’m Evie. And I’m a fan of the sport, I suppose. Just not particularly some of the players.”
Her gaze flickered again to Hector, who was shoving an opponent into the boards with unnecessary force. Her sweet expression hardened momentarily into something icy.
“My brothers require my support tonight. Family obligation.” She said as if it pained her.
Charlie’s eyes lit up. “You go to St. Whitmore? Wait! You're Hector and El’s sister”
Evie’s smile returned, softer now, she tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear looking a bit nervous. “Yeah, I guess I'm popular?”
Well, she was… from the magazines about the Caldwell family. They own a large law firm. Even the gossip we hear from St Whitmore, she's the quiet girl who manages to live with those two. How the hell was she surviving all of that?
They both turned to me with wide eyes and I just realized I said that aloud.
“I'm sorry if I sounded—”
“Nah it's fine. I'm doing just fine. It’s just… Hector.” she cut me off, She said his name with a mix of fondness and deep exasperation.
Well, she isn't really their sibling, she's adopted but the Caldwell's love her so much. More than they even love their sons, some say. Maybe this gossip is getting out of hand, but it's Sophie that feeds us the information about what's going on. And we love to listen.
I wish she was here with us, but she couldn't come because she went on another self proclaimed vacation.
“He seems… intense,” I offered weakly, trying to participate in the normal conversation while my entire body felt haywire from Hayes….assault.
“Intense is a kind word,” Evie said, her tone still sweet but edged with experience. “But he has his moments.” She then looked at me, her warm eyes softening with what looked like sympathy.
“And you’re wearing Hayes Ashford’s jersey. That’s… a statement.”
I instinctively touched the burning mark on my throat. “It wasn’t my choice.” I ran to defense mode.
“Some statements are made for us,” Evie said quietly, her gaze understanding. She didn’t push. She just… accepted the chaos. It was oddly comforting.
Charlie launched into trying to explain the game to Evie, who listened patiently, asking gentle questions. I tried to focus on them, to anchor myself in their normal, girlish chatter.
But my eyes betrayed me. They kept drifting back to the ice, to him. The game already started while we were chatting.
Hayes was a force of nature on the ice. His movements were aggressive, purposeful. powerful strides that ate up the ice, brutal checks that sent opponents sprawling, sharp turns that showcased the sheer muscle in his thighs.
His intensity was a physical thing, radiating off him even through the distance. And it was doing something to me. A low, warm ache began to pulse deep in my core, a traitorous response to his violent grace.
Each time he slammed into someone, I felt a jolt inside myself. God, what is wrong with me? He’s literally fighting people, and I’m getting… turned on? I definitely need to ask Doctor Helena about all of this, clutching the sleeves of his jersey, my hands instinctively rubbed my belly.
Well I have a little bump now, since I'm in my second trimester, just four months along. The bump makes it look like I ate a bit too much, not that I'm pregnant. But it's still a bump.
My eyes went back to Hayes. I can't let him touch me like I'm his property anymore. I can't risk him finding out about my baby. But I owe him and I know very well how he loves his payment for favors. And my traitor pussy won't stop throbbing at the sight of him. I'm more than fucked.
I force myself to look back at Evie and Charlie. Evie was explaining a rule with a calm clarity, her sweet voice a balm. But within seconds, my gaze snapped back to the ice like a magnet.
Hayes had the puck again. He was weaving through defenders, a predator among prey. His head was up, his eyes scanning, and then they found me.
Though he was wearing a helmet, I saw the way his eyes lit as he gave me a cruel smirk.
He saw me staring.
It's a game right, I shouldn't feel dirty for looking at him like that. But I do because I was soaking my pants from the way he played aggressively, it's like deja Vu.
The same thing happened when I watched the footage of him playing hockey and couldn't help but touch myself in the hallway. That time he'd caught me too and the look on his face was no different than the one he was giving me right now.