“Pass.” I turn to leave.
A strong hand wraps around my arm and Aiden all but drags me to his side. “You’ll eat.”
He keeps a possessive arm around my waist as the three of us walk to the cafeteria.
If he thinks that he won this round, then he has another thing coming. The cafeteria doesn’t have my food and I won’t eat like I said.
My phone vibrates. I reach into my jacket.
Uncle J: I don’t think we’ll make it to the game this weekend. I’m buried with work. So sorry, Pumpkin.
My chest squeezes, but I manage to reply.
Elsa: It’s okay. I have to study anyway. You’ll miss me when I’m in Cambridge *fireworks emoji*
Uncle J: Don’t make me all emotional now. You’ll beat our records. Teamwork.
Elsa: Teamwork!
I’m not feeling the words as I type them.
Uncle J: Lock up tonight. We might come home late. There are vegetables in the fridge and your aunt says no ice cream.
Uncle J: We love you, Pumpkin.
Another lonely night.
Elsa: No problem! Take care of yourselves. I love you guys, too *heart emoji*
When I shove the phone back in my pocket, I feel eyes on me. I lift my head and Aiden is watching me intently with a tilted head. Did he read the texts?
Ronan is speculating about the next game’s line-up, but Aiden isn’t paying him the slightest attention. His thumb grazes the small of my back. A shiver blooms over my skin at the intimacy of the gesture.
Why do people say that physical contact doesn’t matter? Why do they assume that emotions grow in some alien place?
Physical touch always plays a part.
I know better because Aiden’s touch has been screwing me over since that day he broke the invisible ‘no-touching’ rule.
We head straight to the football team’s table — of course. Aiden removes his hand so he can sit me beside him.
Xander grins at me, both his dimples on display. It seems genuine enough, so I return a tentative smile.
Aiden cuts us a glare so harsh, I decide to focus on my backpack. Xander’s grin just widens. Aiden places both hands on my shoulders. “From today onwards, Elsa will be eating with us.”
Hell no.
I move to stand up, but he leans over to whisper, “Stay still or I’ll tell them how many times I took you last night.”
“You didn’t take me,” I hiss so only he can hear.
He raises an eyebrow. “They don’t know that.”
I bite my lower lip to stop myself from screaming.
Why does he have this ability to royally piss me off?
None of the team members says anything about the new eating arrangement. I don’t expect them to. He’s King after all. His word is a royal decree.