Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 106

Chapter 106

Keon’s eyes narrowed, sharp and piercing as always. He never missed a thing. “Yeah,” he said slowly, his tone teasing but with an edge. “One moment you’re here, the next you’re gone. You’ve been pulling disappearing acts a lot lately.”

Damn it. I had to be careful around Keon—the team’s own Sherlock Holmes. If I slipped up, he’d sniff it out in a heartbeat.

So I shrugged, forcing a laugh that felt way too loud and fake in my own ears. “Yeah, uh… I met up with someone.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ohhh. That girl from the party who was following you? Cindy?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, words spilling out before I could stop them. “Just, you know, nothing serious. We just hung out.”

Keon’s smirk sharpened, but he didn’t press further. “Nice. Cindy’s cool. Why don’t you bring her over after practice? We’re having some drinks, planning for homecoming. You can bring her by.”

My stomach twisted in knots. Perfect. Just what I needed—lying my way in and out. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll check with her,” I muttered, hoping that would shut him up.

Practice was even worse.

Aiden was all business, and man, he was ruthless. Gone was the gentle guy who’d wrapped me in blankets just hours ago. His voice was clipped and commanding, slicing through the team like a whip.

“This is your last week before the season starts,” he barked, pacing in front of us as we dropped to one knee. “Your final chance to prove you belong here. College life means rhythm—classes, practice, games. This week, you give it your all or you don’t belong on this field.”

When the whistle finally blew, I was completely drained. I hung back, waiting for the locker room to clear out. I helped toss gear back into storage, stalling until the noise of my teammates faded away. Once the showers were empty, I slipped in alone, hoping to be done before anyone else came in. The hot water pounded against my skin, washing away the sweat but not the restless thoughts clawing at my mind.

Just as I was stepping out and drying my hair with the only towel I had, the door creaked open.

Miguel.

He stopped mid-step, eyes wide with shock. My heart skipped a beat as I realized what he was staring at—my back, my thighs—bruised and striped with angry red marks, fresh and undeniable.

“What the hell…” Miguel’s voice cracked, disbelief and sharp concern mixing together. His gaze shot up to meet mine. “Who the fuck did that to you?”