Hitting the Crossbar

by Nicole Nwosu

Genres: YA Family; YA Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

The sequel to The Bad Boy and the Tomboy continues the love story of Macy Anderson and Sam Cahill as they face new challenges and new opportunities.

Macy Anderson and Sam Cahill are embarking on a new adventure, attending university on soccer scholarships while figuring out what comes next for them both.

Macy’s life has always been her group of friends—specifically Jasmine and Andrew—but now they’re all split up. Macy’s worried that the world that she’s always known, that has helped her become the person she is now, is over, and she’s discovering that facing the adult world of college and dating and friendships growing apart is harder than she thought it would be.

Sam is also finding it hard to adjust to this new phase of life. There are the pressures of university, other people, and secrets from his past he wants to keep hidden from Macy, all putting a strain on their relationship.

As Macy and Sam begin to tackle their decisions, Macy realizes she will have to answer the question: is their relationship worth fighting for or is it game over?

Release date: April 18, 2023

Publisher: Wattpad WEBTOON Book Group

Print pages: 280

Sample

1

GET A BOX OR TWO

It shouldn’t have been this cold.

It was early October in Edward Bay, Canada. It was supposed to be cold, I got it. But cold like autumn, not the middle of Antarctica. Even in what should have been the warmth of my dorm room, I was freezing. I wrapped the comforter around me even tighter. I wanted to sleep. I needed to sleep.

“Hazel.”

The bane of my existence had entered my dorm room. Well, okay, maybe he wasn’t the bane of my existence in general . . . but he was right now.

“No, no, no. Get him out,” I groaned into my pillow, shifting my head away from the voice. It was too early for this. My first class wasn’t until ten thirty. I could still get a few more minutes of sleep in. I knew it wasn’t even nine yet because I could hear another voice whose sociology lecture started then.

“Macy,” said my roommate, Maddy, with a sigh. She was probably tired of hearing my complaints every time I didn’t have morning practice. It wasn’t my fault that I favored my sleep.

“No, I don’t want to see him. Not now,” I muttered.

“She already brushed her teeth,” Maddy told him, probably rolling her eyes. “She literally just crawled back into bed.”

In a lazy drawl, the ruiner of my peace said, “I figured you of all people would be very happy to see me.”

“I usually am,” I said, muffled into the pillow. “Just not now.”

“Okay,” Maddy said. “I’m going to class before you two start doing whatever you’re planning on doing. Bye, Mace!”

“Bye!” I yelled into my pillow, and the door slammed shut.

Before I knew it, one side of my bed dipped, and my comforter partially rose up before falling back down. When he wrapped his strong arms around me and pushed my hair out of the way to kiss the back of my neck, I leaned back into his presence involuntarily. Like I always did. “Morning,” he said.

“What do you want?” I muttered.

“I come with food for you.” That was all he needed to say.

My eyes popped open, and I twisted around. But the only feast laid out for me was the smug expression spread across his face.

Samuel Henry Cahill.

There were a lot of things people used to call him. A bad boy.

A player. Cocky. Egotistical. And while he was still some of those things, he was also my idiot of a boyfriend with vivid green eyes and curly hair that was currently spread around his face, some of the strands splayed out onto his forehead. He was extremely good-looking, and he knew it. He was an amazing soccer (or as he loved to say, football) player.

Although we had met only a few months ago after his parents had shipped him from his hometown in England to mine in Canada, it didn’t feel that short. It felt like we had known each other our whole lives.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was to me. Even when he had the audacity to lie about food.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “There’s no food.”

“We’ll get some wh

n you’re happy to see me.” He grinned.

I hiked one leg over his body, straddling him while leaning forward into his warm embrace. “I am happy to see you. But I wanted to sleep, and when I hear you in the morning on Fridays coming to walk with me to class, that means my sleep is ruined.”

Since the school year had started back in September, I was grateful every time I got to see Sam. Sam went to Hayes University, about an hour away from me in Southford, near Hamilton, while I attended Henry David Florentine University, just east of London. The two of us played for the varsity soccer teams at our schools. Both of us were constantly busy. We might not have seen each other as much as I would have liked, but I soaked in every moment I could with him.

“Well, do you want to come and stay over tomorrow night?

I’ll let you sleep all you want.”

That sounded really good. “Is Peter going to be there?”

Sam shrugged. “He said that he might go see his girlfriend in Toronto.”

Peter wasn’t directly Sam’s cousin, but everyone referred to him as such. While Peter wasn’t a Cahill, he acted like one. He reminded me a bit of Sam’s cousin Ivan. He had that mischievous sparkle in his eyes and a head full of bad ideas.

Come to think of it, he was basically sworn in as a Cahill.

“You have practice tomorrow?” Sam asked.

“In the afternoon,” I said, glancing over to where my cleats were hanging out of my duffel bag on the floor. Soccer. I got to play the sport at a university pro soccer players had attended, where they had been scouted and signed, and now they were professionals. “You know, I still can’t believe I made the team.”

Sam’s hands went up against my back, leaving tingles in their wake until he reached my ponytail. He took the hair tie out, letting my brown hair escape its confines. “Why? You deserved it.”

I leaned back, my eyes roaming his expression. His green eyes showed so much sincerity that without thinking I moved forward, kissing him. He responded with equal intensity, his hands tightening around me, one moving up to my face and the other to my hip. The feeling that surged through me from this, the simplicity of this moment, always surprised me. The way I had to bite back a smile every

we kissed always shocked me.

Especially when he pressed us closer to each other and I could feel his body heat even through the leather jacket he was wearing. Especially when his teeth tugged on my bottom lip as a tease. The sound he made when I combed my fingers through his hair jolted down my body.

I could have kissed him forever if that had been possible. The two of us in a little bubble. Unfortunately, bubbles were meant to be popped.

“Whoa, guys!”

I pushed myself off Sam quickly, stumbling to my feet. We met my roommate’s wide eyes before she looked apologetic.

“Maddy,” Sam huffed with irritation that I knew would be forgotten in a second.

Sam liked Maddy. When he’d first met her a few weeks ago, he’d said, She’s not annoying. And unlike most of the girls who had spotted Sam whenever he was here, she didn’t think of him as anything more than a friend. That was a relief—I never had to worry about coming back to the dorm and having my roommate fawn all over my boyfriend.

“Sorry,” Maddy said, walking over to her desk. “I forgot my book. You two lovebirds can go back to whatever you were doing.”

Maddy—Madeline, really, but she preferred the nickname—

was a Filipino girl from a small town in British Columbia, with golden-brown skin and long dark hair, around five-foot-one to my six feet. Our long-distance friendship didn’t matter since we’d realized we were going to get along the second we’d met.

The first time I met her wasn’t even in our room. Like me, Maddy attended our university for a sport, but she played volleyball. I had been passing by one of the many gyms on campus as I was exploring and accidentally got in the way of a volleyball game where she almost hit me in the face with the ball.

Ever since then, we’d been good friends.

When she left the room and closed the door behind her, I straightened myself, turning back to Sam. “I’m going to take a shower. Wait for me?”

“Always,” he murmured.

I pushed him on the shoulder, unable to keep the smile off my face. “It’s too early for

you to be this corny.”

But my words didn’t erase the smirk from his face. He got comfortable on my bed, locking his hands behind his head.

Almost six months together with this guy. Wow.

“You should wear those shorts more often,” he said, eyeing my legs as I went over to the closet.

“Shut up.”

~

“It’s freezing here,” I commented as the cold seeped through my jacket, creeping up my spine and around my neck. When I spoke, a white gust of air left my mouth. Summer wasn’t my favorite season, but I missed the warmth more than anything.

Sam chuckled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, a gust of white cloud coming out of his mouth when he said, “For a Canadian, you complain about cold weather a lot.”

“It shouldn’t be this cold,” I said as we entered the coffee shop. I didn’t remember October ever being this cold; even though Edward Bay was two hours west of Port Meadow, I felt like I had traveled north of my hometown.

Yet despite his red nose, Sam didn’t complain as we sat down at a table. He had lived in Canada for over a year now, and I’d never heard the man complain about the weather. Meanwhile, my fingers were numb and my ears were starting to hurt.

I shivered involuntarily once again, not even able to take my camera out of its bag. “I feel like I’ve been pushed into a meat freezer. I feel like someone buried me in snow and left me there for a full day.”

“Stop exaggerating.” Sam took my hands in his large ones, rubbing them to provide some heat.

His accent hadn’t faded. I didn’t imagine it would, especially since he surrounded himself with his family, who mostly sounded the same. Over the summer, after we had graduated high school, he had gone back to England, along with the rest of the Cahills who lived in Canada. He had visited his parents, Alice and James, and his little brother, Greg, for the first time in months. And when he’d come back, his parents and brother had returned with him for a brief visit.

When I’d first met his parents, I’d had the idea that they didn’t know what to think of m

e. They had sent Sam to Canada about a year after the death of his twin sister, Bethany, because he had been acting out. Initially, after Bethany had passed, Sam had run away to Redmond, Ontario, where his grandmother Lucy resided, and gotten mixed up with the wrong set of people.

When his father had taken him back to Bath, England, Sam had gotten involved with an even worse crowd, whose choices led to an arson incident. His parents believed a change in scenery—and getting away from certain people—would be good for him. So he was moved again, this time to his aunt Liz and uncle Vince’s house in Port Meadow. After Sam had told me months ago about how his sister’s death had affected him, he’d never really spoken about it again. I knew he hadn’t told me the full extent of everything he had done in England that had led to developing a bad boy reputation before we’d met.

And I didn’t push him.

He would tell me when he was ready.

I’d never forget the look his mother had given me when she’d met me. There was almost a look of disbelief on her face—she’d stared at me so intensely that I’d thought I had something in my teeth. After she had glanced at Sam, then back at me, she had settled for generic questions, not asking the real questions she must have wanted to.

Had Sam changed so much since she’d last seen him? Did she think Sam and I were a bad idea? It was like she knew how Sam and I had really gotten together. Sometimes thinking about it, even though everyone else seemed to have moved past it, left me feeling like a sack of shame.

Because how do you explain to your boyfriend’s family that the two of you dated behind his cousin’s back, while his cousin had been

dating you only to get back at your boyfriend for years of resentment?

Here’s how: I never did.

Sam’s parents couldn

’t have known what had happened between me and the two Cahill boys. Sometimes I wondered if Cedric’s parents, Liz and Vince, had a suspicion, but if they did, nothing was ever discussed in my presence. I had been to their house multiple times during the summer, becoming familiar with more members of the Cahill family, and no one had ever brought it up.

But I knew one day it would come out.

Today was not going to be that day.

“I’m not exaggerating,” I said, shaking myself out of my thoughts as my hands absorbed his warmth.

“Really? Because you are a walking hyperbole.” Suddenly, Sam’s eyes searched my face with concern. “Are you okay, though? I know it’s been a bit since I’ve seen you.”

It had been only two weeks since we’d last seen each other, but that was because we were both busy. Currently, I felt like a mess. I hadn’t been sleeping properly because of all the schoolwork and soccer practices. “I’m sorry,” I said. “We were supposed to go out a few days ago, but then I had that essay I still had to finish writing and—”

“Hazel, it’s okay. Trust me. I’m happy that I at least get to see you now. That’s all that matters.” He took off his hat, combing his fingers through the curls in an attempt to tame them.

“How are your practices?” I asked.

“They’re good,” he said with some hesitation. I shot him a look. Something was wrong. “The senior guys on the team still call us fresh meat. They tried to haze us.”

Haze? Sam waved a dismissive hand at my anxious look.

“They remind me of my team from back home. They’re not messing with me.” He uttered those words with confidence. Not that I had any reason to worry. “Speaking of back home, we’re watching the recording at my place tomorrow?”

“We’re rooting for Chelsea.”

“You’re rooting for Chelsea,” he corrected. “I’m rooting for Man United.”

“You’re not even from Manchester!”

“You’re not even from the UK,” he pointed out with a grin.

“What are you going on about?”

Before I had the chance to answer, my phone cut me off with a loud ring. I answered the call.

“How are you doing, princess?” asked Caleb Romero Henderson, Sam’s best friend. I hadn’t heard from him in a little over a week. Honestly, if he had the chance to, Caleb would probably c

ll me every hour of every day.

“I’m doing okay, Charming,” I answered. Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname, getting up to get our orders.

“How is your damsel in distress?”

“Damsel in distress?” I asked with a laugh.

“Yes, my best friend is your damsel in distress. Definitely not a knight in shining armor,” he said. “I feel like he’s trying to avoid my calls.”

“Well, how many times have you called him?”

“You mean since this morning? I don’t know. Like seventy-two times, and he’s not answering.” Well, if you called seventy-two times and he never picked up, maybe you should take the hint.

Sam returned with a cup of hot chocolate for me and a coffee for himself. I covered the speaker of my phone, asking, “You aren’t answering Caleb’s calls?”

“No,” Sam stated. “He’s been on my case about another stupid theory of his.”

“What theory?” Sam took a sip of his coffee, gesturing to my phone. I repeated the question to Caleb, who was quick to get excited.

“Okay, so I was with this girl the other night—”

“Hold up. No. I’ve gone through an entire summer of your theories and your stories. I think I’m good for the rest of the year. Forget I asked. Change the topic.”

“Fine.” I could visualize him pouting, and I cracked a smile.

I already missed him. Caleb was attending college in our hometown to study creative writing. Last I heard, he was working on a story he hoped to turn into a novel. “Wow, princess. I thought that you liked hearing me talk.”

“I do, but hearing you talk about your sex life is not number one on my list of conversations,” I said, sipping my drink.

Across from me, Sam tensed, then gestured for me to hand the phone to him. When he pressed it against his ear, he took a very deep breath before saying, “Caleb, why the hell are you discussing sex stuff with my girlfriend?”

I didn’t hear Caleb’s response, but whatever it was, it irritated Sam. “You are an idiot.”

That’s when Caleb yelled so loud, I heard it. “I am not an idiot!”

“We’ll talk later.” Caleb clearly kept talking, and Sam began rubbing his temples. “Yes, I’ll answer my phone.” He closed his eyes. “No, I do not. I am never going to say that to you, you insufferable prick.” The insult wasn’t unfamiliar, nor was the sight of Sam struggling

to suppress his amusement. “I don’t care.

Bye.” He hung up the phone and handed it to me.

“Your relationship will never fail,” I said. Sam’s scowl deepened. “What did he want you to say?”

“He wanted me to tell him that I missed him.”

“You do,” I pointed out.

“No, I don’t,” Sam retorted, getting up and moving away from the subject as he put his hat on. He started walking out of the shop while I laughed in disbelief, putting on my hat and following him.

“You do miss Caleb,” I said as I caught up with him. He certainly did. There was a picture of a younger version of Sam and Caleb that had been in his room back in Port Meadow that he’d brought with him to Southford. Deep down, he loved it when Caleb called him excessively—I was sure of it.

I would know: I was the same with Andrew and Jasmine.

With all our friends from back home, really. Andrew had texted me that morning. I had sent a text to Jasmine a few days ago. She hadn’t responded yet, but she was probably busy. We all were.

“No, I don’t,” he said, kicking at a rock as we walked down the busy sidewalk.

“Don’t lie to me.” I punched his shoulder lightly. “He’s like your brother. Besides, in a few weeks you’ll see him again.”

A few more weeks and we’d see everyone in Port Meadow again. Sam’s cousin Ivan was getting married to his girlfriend of many years, Natasha. Natasha, the redheaded violinist, was smitten with Ivan Cahill. She’d invited me to be a part of her wedding as a photographer after we had spent some time together over the summer. As dramatic and arrogant as Ivan was, it wasn’t a surprise that he wanted a big wedding, resulting in him inviting all our friends to come to the wedding as well.

Sam slung an arm around me, the leather of his jacket rubbing against my Adidas one. “I’m never going to say that to his face, though, so shut it.” He ended his sentence by kissing the side of my head.

As we continued walking down the street, I spotted a couple of people around our age glancing over in our direction, speaking under their breath. When one girl—whom I vaguely recognized—decided to be the brave one of the group, she broke apart from them and approached us.

Correction: she approached Sam.

I wasn’t surprised. Many of the business majors on campus knew about the Cahill corporation and the family’s wealth, and in turn, they knew about the Cahill boys. However, that Cahill notoriety had grown over the summer when Sam’s mother, Alice, who had been a popular singer in the UK when she was younger, released a comeback album, which immediately became a huge hit. After she had put herself into the limelight, Sam, his brother, and a few of their cousins had been thrown into it a bit as well, resulting in people approaching Sam more than he ever liked.

People online and off started paying more and more attention to him and his family.

His mother had started touring Europe as well. With Alice rarely staying in a city for more than two days and Sam staying in Canada for university, Greg had voiced that he wanted to be closer to his brother. This had resulted in Greg now living with his uncle John and aunt Naomi in Port Meadow, while his father, James, frequently visited as he handled the Cahill corporation in England.

“You’re Sam Cahill, right?” She didn’t have to ask. She knew who he was. “I thought you attended Hayes?”

“And how would you know that?” Sam asked.

“Everyone knows that,” she said, her eyes sparkling, and I blinked. Okay. Give her the benefit of the doubt. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Visiting,” he quipped, glancing over at me.

When her eyes slid over in my direction, her smile slipped.

There it was. The flicker of annoyance. Her gaze narrowed as she scrutinized me before she pursed her lips. “I think we have geography tutorial together?”

I wasn’t taking geography.

Don’t pretend, I wanted to say, but I focused on not crushing the hot chocolate in my hand. “I think so,” I lied.

Her gaze swept over me once again in a way that made me clear my throat as something else to do. “Nice to see you.” Before I had a chance to say anything, she turned her attention back to Sam, who had stiffened next to me. “Some of my friends and I were wondering if you wanted to—”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve got plans.”

“You sure?” 

"

I’m positive.”

But she wasn’t taken aback by his steely tone. “There’s no way to possibly convince you to join us?”

She wasn’t backing off. And she wasn’t subtle with her intentions when her hand fell on Sam’s arm. Oh. Sam immediately shrugged her hand off with ease as he took the drink from my hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said coolly. “It’s fine.”

Fine? His patience was running thin. And fast.

It was becoming a matter of whose patience would snap first: his or mine. But I had work to do back at my dorm. I didn’t have all day for this.

I tapped him. “I need to stop at the store. You want me to get them? We ran out after last time.”

I didn’t miss the girl’s eyes widen a fraction. Sam almost failed to hide his amusement. “Yeah, get a box or two. Maybe one.”

“One box?” I pretended to be appalled. “That’s what you said that one time, and it wasn’t enough.”

“Two boxes, then?” Sam suggested. “No, get three just in case. See if you can get any of the free ones they have in the bathrooms on campus.”

“From the bathrooms?” I cringed.

“You’re not going to be complaining when we’re using them. Protection is key, Hazel.” The ease of his tone—actually, the entire conversation, despite the months that we’d been together—made me flush. He was smooth with his words, and there I was, flustered by a fantasy that had no bearing in reality.

The girl didn’t notice my expression as she slowly started backing away. “Um, I’ll see you around, Sam.”

Good. When she quickly shuffled back to her friends, I burst out laughing. Sam didn’t join in my elation. Instead, he frowned.

“Wait, you’re not going to get them?”

“In your dreams.”

Sam sighed dramatically, intertwining my fingers with his.

“At least my dreams are wild.”

“You are disgusting.”

“And yet you are still in love with me.”

“That’s true,” I murmured. The reassurance made him press a light kiss to my lips as we walked through the cold back to campus.

2

FATE IS AN EVIL SPIRIT

Sometimes, I forgot that my boyfriend was rich.

When I stepped into the penthouse Sam and Peter were living in, the reminder hit me in the face. It was so big that their bedrooms were located in different hallways. That was a good thing, seeing as Peter claimed that he liked to walk around naked.

I had taken a long bus ride over to their place immediately after my practice had finished, only to almost trip on one of Sam’s Converse shoes in the hallway. After I took off my Jordans and made my way to the kitchen, I dropped my camera bag and backpack on the counter. I was ready for the game. My Chelsea jersey was underneath my sweater, and my pride was on the table . . . along with a box of Pop-Tarts.

I was tearing into a packet when Sam’s voice rang throughout the apartment. “Hazel?”

“Kitchen!” I yelled back.

Sam came into the room, flipping through the back of a calculus textbook as my gaze dipped down to his exposed torso.

The only clothing on his body was a pair of blue-and-green neon socks I was certain Caleb had bought him and gray sweatpants.

He looked great in gray sweatpants. Not that I would tell him to his face. “How was practice?”

“Fine,” I said, my mouth filled with Pop-Tart as he put the book down, reaching into the fridge to get a bottle of water.

“How was yours?”

As he was about to raise the bottle to his lips, he stopped and raised an eyebrow at me. “It was fine?”

“My legs feel as if they tried to run around the world at least eight times. I could barely keep my eyes open on the bus. So I am totally and completely fine.” I closed my eyes and sagged against the fridge, feeling the refreshing cool steel against my back.

“My poor baby.” I could clearly hear the mocking tone even as he included the stupid term of endearment.

I reached out, hitting him lightly on the chest. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Sam didn’t retaliate. Instead, his fingers toyed with the zipper of my sweater. “I’m not being a jerk,” he said quietly. Then he tugged, pulling the zipper down until it reached the bottom.

“Am I being a jerk now?”

I didn’t answer him. This happened more often than I’d thought it would. I glanced down at his torso, then up to his lips. He didn’t change his calm expression, but I knew if I put my hand over his heart, I’d feel his pulse rapidly fluttering against my skin. When he pushed the sleeves off my shoulder, my sweater fell to the ground. Then his warm hands found their way to my hips. He broke eye contact as he pushed my jersey up by a fraction before brushing his thumb along the sliver of my skin that was exposed.

I exhaled, goose bumps manifesting where his hands resided.

Sam tilted his head, getting closer to me as he asked in a low voice, “And now?”

“Honey, I’m home!”

Both Sam and I let out a breath at the intrusion. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful for Peter or irritated. Definitely a mixture of both. Sam, on the other hand, was annoyed. “Shit,” he whispered, not taking his hands off me as he looked over his shoulder at Peter.

Like every boy in the Cahill orbit, Peter was attractive, with wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin. Usually, he was a great guy. Funny. But right now, the irritated side of me was taking over as I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Peter.”

“Macy!” he called in a singsong, walking over to a cabinet and taking out an energy drink.

“I thought you were leaving for Toronto,” Sam said, taking his hands off me as I released a breath. Too much.

“Nah, next weekend,” Peter said, pulling himself up to sit on the counter. “I think Jenna’s getting sick of me after being together for five years, but . . .” He shrugged, cracking open the can and taking a swig.

“Five years?” I asked. I hadn’t met Peter’s girlfriend yet, but Sam had told me good things. “You’ve been dating since you were thirteen?”

Peter nodded, reading the nutrition facts on the can in his hand. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but when he looked back up, his face wore a grin. “I’ll be in my room. Goodbye, lovers!”

When Peter left, Sam turned back to me. “Can we go back to what we were doing?”

I pushed him back gently. “No, we have food to order and a game to watch.”

I flicked through food options on my phone as I made my way into their living room. Once I was lying along their comfy sofa and Sam had joined me, scrolling through channels, he asked, “What’s Mads up to? She took the bus with you, right?”

“Yeah, she’s going on a date with this guy who goes to school here.” I pulled up his Instagram page, which Maddy and I had researched thoroughly on the bus, and Sam made a face. Oh, he really didn’t like this guy.

“I’ve seen him in my calc class. Robert or something?” I nodded. “Yeah, he’s kind of a prick. Do you think Maddy will figure that out on her own, or do we need to save her?”

“She said she’ll text if she needs any saving. They’re going somewhere public,” I as

sured him. And myself. I sent a quick text to Maddy to see if she was okay.

Sam didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push. Relief went through me as Maddy sent a thumbs-up back. “Wait, so why was practice only fine today?”

Ugh. I handed him my phone to double-check our food order, struggling to contain my sudden flare of annoyance. Or anger. Yeah, it was definitely anger. “The same reason why I was annoyed at practice last week.”

Sam handed me back my phone, his tongue pressed into his bottom lip as his face screwed up in thought. “Is her name, um, Miranda? Sasha? Monya?”

I snorted as his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Tanya. Defender?

Sweeper? Thinks she’s the absolute best at everything?”

I’d encountered my fair share of mean girls. Beatrice, back at Wellington High, was like a mean girl times ten. But I had never played a sport with Beatrice. Tanya and I were on the same team. Tanya was someone who was supposed to have my back and I hers. Instead, she was like a porcupine in a herd of soft, fluffy bunnies.

When I’d first met her in late August, I hadn’t understood why she kept trying to come after me during practices. Then she began making snide remarks outside our practices, which I pushed aside for the sake of the team. That was when I learned something after overhearing a few conversations: she hated me because of the person who was currently sitting next to me.

Sam glanced down at his phone. Then it buzzed again in his hand. It must’ve been Caleb again. He didn’t bother responding as he shoved the device into his pocket, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Yeah, she saw me yesterday.”

As I mentioned, people in business had possibly heard of Sam and his family. People in the music industry had definitely heard of Sam and his family. And because Sam’s aunt Liz was a fashion designer—and Sam sometimes modeled for her—people knew his family from that industry as well. The Cahills knew famous people, and some of those famous people had daughters.

Daughters like Tanya, who seemed to have a huge obsession with my boyfriend.

The only reason she even knew he had any connection to me was because he had sho

wn up at one of our tryouts to pick me up. She’d spent the last twenty minutes of the tryouts talking about him. And then proceeded to keep talking about him—loudly enough that I could hear her—when she saw us leave together. She talked about him whenever I was within earshot.

She would mention how gorgeous he was. That she didn’t think he should be tied down by, and I quote, some grungy girl from some unknown town.

She attempted to talk to him whenever he was at one of our practices. Over the last couple of months, Sam had trying to be a little bit more polite. He would acknowledge people instead of ignoring them and walking on by. Sam kept his conversations with Tanya short and monosyllabic, which was more than I had recently been giving her.

Let’s just say, we weren’t friends.

“Where did you see her? What did she do?” I asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Invited me to a party. Fate decided to put her in my path as I was trying to get into your building.”

“Well, fate is an evil spirit,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

Sam reached out and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me between his legs. “I said no to the party invite. Then she invited me to go to the library to study with her.”

“You should file a restraining order.” I shifted, grumbling my words into his neck. “Make sure she has to be be at least three hundred feet from you or else she gets arrested.”

“Your possessiveness is shining rather brightly today, Hazel.”

“It’s not possessiveness. It’s Tanya. I swear, she wants to kidnap you and hide you in her closet.”

“If she wanted to kidnap me, she wouldn’t succeed because I’m sure you’d knock her out if she even touched me,” he said, cheeriness coating his tone.

“I wouldn’t knock her out, ...