Chapter Thirty-Five
Sloane
Dorian played every home game in that dress after that. Well, not that dress. He mixed it up on occasion.
At least, from what I heard.
With Bru not playing anymore, I didn’t make it to every game, but I certainly heard about his antics. Especially when I also heard his coaches still weren’t too keen on what he was doing out there on the field. Word around the academy was, there was talk of trying to bench Dorian for the rest of the season until he stopped with his impromptu fashion shows, and I’d gotten more than enough flack for that around the halls. Dorian Prinze was this school’s golden boy out on the field.
He continued to wear the dresses, though, and he never asked me out again, but that didn’t stop his letters. He left them strictly in my locker now.
I’d even caught him putting one in.
I’d assumed he always had his flunkies doing it, and maybe in the beginning, he had.
The one he left today, though, he slid right into my locker and stayed there when he spotted me.
“Number twenty,” he said, absolutely relentless. His grin high, he nodded toward the locker. “Aren’t you curious?”
I was, but I played that off. Instead of opening my locker, I stared at him. “Why should I be? They’re all the same.”
They were all him
, each and every one. Some days they weren’t as deep as number sixteen or number twelve, but they were still him. Like he was trying to peel open his heart and let me in for a little peek. Honestly, I was starting to hate them as much as anticipate them. I was starting to feel a lot of pressure with each one I found and not to give in for a date.
I thought, one day, he may want me to reciprocate. He’d want me to open myself up, and I wasn’t ready for that. Things were difficult after he left, the scars.
Dorian’s grin slipped a little in my direction, and he averted his eyes as I opened my locker. The note fell out like it always did, and I opened it up.
It was blank.
I even turned it around to see if I’d missed something.
“You know, you’re acting like you don’t care, little fighter…” He edged closer, his heat close. His lips parted. “But it sure looks like you do.”
I hated that I did.
It didn’t matter.
It couldn’t matter.
Why does he keep doing this?
I felt ripped open right in front of him, peeled apart as he rested an arm against the locker.
Blond eyebrows narrowed hard. “You want more, you’re gonna have to give me something.” His brow lifted slow. “I’m serious about all the things I said. I am, and I’m willing to work for them, but…”
Our gazes clashed, his frown hard.
“I need something from you.” He scanned my eyes. “Just… something.”
He was so close now, and he didn’t have to explain. He needed something from me.
He needed something back.
He needed to know all this wasn’t pointless, and I was well aware I wasn’t giving him anything.
I didn’t want to.