Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 74

Chapter 74

We hadn’t even made it ten feet before a voice I knew all too well sliced through the hum of the party, dripping with unmistakable venom.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the almighty Coach Mercer…”

I turned slowly, forcing my face into a mask of calm indifference. “How’s it going, Devon?”

Devon Reilly. My former quarterback and hands down one of the most insufferable, resentful, petty, and manipulative players I’d ever had the misfortune to coach. Sure, he was talented on the field, no one could deny that, but off the field? He was a natural-born troublemaker—a dirty player with a pathological habit of twisting the truth until it snapped.

I’d been forced to cut him loose after he showed up to our final game clearly high on something strong enough to swallow his irises whole. He nearly broke another player’s nose in the first quarter alone.

Devon’s lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Looks like you upgraded. Heard you’ve got yourself a new golden boy now. Hope he knows how quickly that spot can disappear with you.”

Before I could respond, Marcus’s voice came from behind me, sharp and cutting through the tension like a blade. “Drop it, Reilly.”

Devon’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer, full of silent challenge, before he scoffed and shoved past us.

Marcus clapped me on the back, his tone lighter now. “Ignore him. Let’s go.”

He guided me toward a group of guys who were way too eager to shove another beer into my hand. Before I knew it, a red Solo cup was pressed into my palm, and someone was declaring me their secret weapon for beer pong.

Apparently, the rumor was that I’d been a pro back in my college days.

They weren’t wrong.

I took my shot, the ball landing dead center in the cup, prompting cheers from the group. I grinned, lined up the next throw, and sank it with ease. The game continued with guys bumping my shoulder for luck and passing drinks my way, treating me like one of the frat brothers rather than their coach.

Despite all the attention I’d drawn since walking in, I hadn’t once gotten close enough to anyone to threaten what Noah and I shared.

A couple of girls had gotten bold, pressing up against me and purring invitations to “show them the view upstairs.” One of the players—trying to keep his cool—had leaned in to murmur that he’d love some “private coaching” from me anytime.

Any other time in my life, I might’ve taken one of those offers. I wasn’t a saint. I’d had my share of quick flings and casual indulgences. But since Noah, the thought of anyone else touching me felt… wrong. Unappealing. Like drinking flat beer after you’ve tasted something rare and intoxicating.

Noah had ruined me for anyone else, and I’d let him do it. Happily.

That’s why, when my eyes caught him leaning in toward Lexie—smiling, laughing, looking every inch the golden boy she probably dreamed about since cheer camp—something sharp and dangerous flickered through my mind.

If he wanted to play with fire tonight, I was more than ready to show him just how quickly it could burn.