Chapter 2
Ellia's POV
Emma's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding? She knocked—"
"It's fine," I interrupted, heart pounding as I noticed several basketball players and cheerleaders watching us now. I extended the bottle toward Lucas. "Here, I brought you something for the game. It'll help with... you know, your energy levels." I widened my eyes meaningfully, our secret code since childhood.
Lucas looked at the bottle, then at Samantha's tearful face. To my disbelief, he shook his head. "I'm good. Samantha already brought me water." He took an ordinary water bottle from her hand, cradling it like it contained liquid gold.
"Lucas, you really need this one," I insisted, my voice dropping to an urgent whisper as I stepped closer. "Trust me."
"I said I'm good," he repeated loudly, his tone hardening. "Not everyone can afford fancy sports drinks, Ellie. Just because Samantha's on scholarship doesn't mean her water isn't good enough. You and your designer water bottles should go get ready for the cheer routine instead of making people feel bad about what they can afford."
The hallway fell silent. I felt heat rush to my face as several people turned to stare, including Coach Bryson and half the varsity team.
As Lucas put his arm around Samantha and walked back toward the locker room, I stood frozen, the special drink still in my hand, humiliation washing over me in waves.
My enhanced hearing picked up the whispers as we arranged our pom-poms along the sidelines of Madison Arena.
"...weren't Miller and Green basically attached at the hip since kindergarten?"
"I always thought they were dating..."
"...the way he just rejected her drink and took the other girl's instead..."
"...maybe he's trying to break up with her?"
"They might just be friends, but still..."
"...calling her classist in front of everyone was harsh..."
Thalia growled inside me, bristling at the public humiliation. He made us look like fools. In front of everyone.
"Ignore them," I muttered to myself, focusing on straightening the blue and silver pom-poms in perfect rows.
"What?" Emma asked, adjusting her uniform beside me.
"Nothing. Just talking to myself."
Emma followed my gaze to where Lucas was warming up with the rest of the Eagles. His movements had that fluid grace that came naturally to our kind—just a touch too perfect, too precise. Most people attributed it to natural athletic talent. If they only knew.
"I still can't believe what he said to you," Emma fumed, keeping her voice low. "Fifteen years of friendship, and he throws you under the bus for a girl he's known for what—a month?"
"It's fine," I said automatically.
"It's not fine!" Emma's loyalty was touching, even if she didn't know the whole truth about what Lucas and I were.
I took a deep breath, pushing Thalia's anger down.
"Look, Lucas is going through something," I said, more calmly than I felt. "Let's just focus on the game, okay? There's nothing I can do about it now."
Emma sighed, relenting. "Fine. But I'm still mad at him."
The Madison Arena pulsed with energy. The stands were packed with blue and silver, Mapleton's colors clashing with Westridge's crimson and gold. The air smelled like popcorn, sweat, and anticipation.
I spotted Samantha sitting in the front row, wearing what was definitely Lucas's hoodie. She caught me looking and smiled sweetly, the picture of innocence. Something about her made Thalia's hackles rise. There was a scent I couldn't quite place—something beneath her vanilla perfume that felt... wrong.
The teams were finishing their warm-ups, and I couldn't help watching Lucas. His tall frame moved with that supernatural grace, but there was something off in his rhythm tonight. His eyes kept darting to the stands where Samantha sat, then occasionally back to me with a flash of... guilt? Anger? I couldn't tell anymore.
Just keep it together tonight, I thought, hoping somehow he'd sense it. Basketball games always ran high on testosterone and aggression. One deliberate foul or cheap shot could trigger Lucas's temper, and with tonight being the full moon, his control was already compromised. Without the moon tea, he was running on pure willpower.
"Ellie!" Emma nudged me, breaking my concentration. "Don't look now, but that Westridge shooting guard is totally checking you out."
I glanced up, catching the gaze of a tall player in a crimson jersey. Number 23. He was running drills with his team, but his attention kept drifting our way.
"Who is that?" I asked, genuinely curious.
Emma's eyes widened. "That's Aiden Harris. He's Westridge's star player!"
I shrugged slightly, not particularly impressed. Basketball stars were just basketball stars, and I had more important things to worry about—like making sure our own team, especially Lucas, got through this full moon night without incident.
The teams cleared the court for final preparations, and I headed to the cooler to grab water bottles for our squad. As I was sorting through the drinks, a shadow fell over me.
"Excuse me."
I looked up to find Aiden Harris standing there, tall and composed in his crimson uniform. Up close, his features were striking—strong jawline, intelligent eyes that studied me with unexpected intensity.
"Hi," I managed, suddenly aware of how many people could see us talking.
He extended his hand. "I couldn't help noticing what happened before the warm-up." My stomach dropped. "I just wanted to say, since some people clearly don't appreciate thoughtfulness..." He gestured toward Lucas, who was watching us from across the court, "...would I have the honor of accepting whatever drink you've prepared today?"
I froze, surprise rendering me momentarily speechless. Emma appeared at my side, her eyes practically sparkling.
"Oh my god," she whispered loudly. "Aiden Harris is talking to you! They say he's even better than Lucas.!"
I studied him for a moment. Better than Lucas? That was saying something. Lucas had werewolf strength and precision, giving him advantages even in human form. But Lucas relied on those natural gifts, often skipping extra training. If this Aiden was outperforming him, he must have incredible natural talent combined with serious dedication.
Something about that earned my immediate respect. Plus, he was clearly trying to help me save face after the public rejection.
Thalia stirred inside me, intrigued rather than threatened by this stranger. He smells like confidence, not arrogance. And no hidden agenda beneath.
Despite the competitive nature of tonight's game, there was an unspoken code among athletes. Showing good sportsmanship and mutual respect, even to rivals, was part of what made these inter-school events worthwhile beyond just the trophies.
I smiled and handed him one of the actual sports drinks I'd brought. "Sure. Good luck tonight—though not too much luck."
He grinned, accepting the bottle. "Thanks. Maybe we can talk after the game?"
Across the court, I felt Lucas's eyes burning into us. When I glanced his way, his expression was thunderous, jaw clenched tight. Beside him, Coach Bennett was giving last-minute instructions, but Lucas wasn't listening. His focus was locked on Aiden and me.