Chapter 7 Jane's Pov
1241 Words
Cheer practice was the only place I trusted myself to breathe.
Class had drained whatever patience I woke up with, and the whispers had pushed me straight to my limit. By the time I stepped into the practice gym, I was vibrating with frustration.
Perfect.
Frustration made me focused. Focus made me sharp.
“Okay, ladies,” I said as I tossed my bag aside, “warm up. Full stretch. We’re fixing yesterday’s stunt group mess.”
The squad scrambled. Even Sasha didn’t argue, which meant I must’ve looked like I was one glare away from shifting.
Good.
Geneva jogged over to me, ponytail bouncing like she never had a bad day in her life, “You’re glowing with murder. Everything alright?”
“No,” I said.
“Damian?”
“Obviously.”
She grinned like this was all a romantic comedy and not my slow descent into madness, “He looked at you like you hung the moon this morning.”
“Please,” I said. “He looks at everyone like that.”
“Not like that,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Trust me. If he stared at me the way he stared at you? I’d be pregnant.”
I stared at her, “Please shut up.”
She laughed and jogged away before I could throw a pompom at her.
Warm-ups calmed me a little. The rhythm helped. The counts. The control. The consistency.
Unlike Damian.
My wolf paced, restless but calmer than earlier. She liked movement. Action. Leadership. Being in command of something.
I took charge of the stunt group and clapped my hands, “Up again. Tight arms. Sasha, stop shaking. You look like a leaf.”
“I’m not shaking,” Sasha muttered.
“You’re shaking so hard the air is vibrating,” I said. “Again.”
The girls lifted our flyer and hit the pose cleaner this time.
There it was. The slight satisfaction in my chest. The small victory. Something going the way I said it should.
“Good,” I said. “Again.”
Geneva whispered loudly from the back, “Captain Jane is back!”
I shot her a look, “I was never gone.”
She winked, “Just possessed by rage this morning.”
“Geneva.”
“Kidding,” she said, raising her hands.
Practice went better after that. The squad tightened up. Sasha stopped being annoying. The formations sharpened. Even my wolf settled, stretching inside me like she finally had something to do besides react to Damian’s existence.
I let myself feel that moment of control.
But of course, the universe hated me.
Because when I turned toward the bleachers, someone was leaning against the railing.
Damian Ross.
In a grey hoodie. Arms crossed. Watching.
Of course.
Why wouldn’t he be here? Didn’t he have hockey practice? Or a life? Or something else to do besides stare at me?
My wolf perked up instantly.
No.
Not happening.
I ignored him and got the team into the cooldown segment. Even then, I felt him watching.
He didn’t move until I dismissed the squad.
Sasha and two others walked past him, giggling like idiots. Geneva waved at him like he was a celebrity. Damian waved back at her, then looked at me.
I pretended not to see it.
I grabbed my bag and headed toward the exit.
I made it five steps before a voice called behind me.
“Sweetheart.”
I froze.
He enjoyed this. I knew he did.
I turned slowly, “Don’t call me that. I've warned you already.”
“Then stop answering to it,” he said.
I glared at him, “What do you want?”
He shrugged like this wasn’t the hundredth time he’d annoyed me today, “We need to talk.”
“No,” I said. “We don’t.”
“We kind of do,” he said. “Since everyone thinks we’re together now.”
I stiffened, “Your fault.”
“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, “you’re still here talking to me.”
“I’m only here because you stopped me.”
“You could’ve kept walking.”
I clenched my jaw, “Move.”
He didn't, “How was class?”
“Terrible.”
I wanted to throw something at his head.
Instead, I crossed my arms, “If this is about your stupid plan, I already told you—”
“It’s not stupid,” he cut in. “It’s working.”
“Working how?”
“People stopped talking about my grades.”
“Congratulations.”
“And they’re talking about us instead,” he added.
My wolf stirred.
I ignored her.
“I don’t want them talking about us,” I said.
“Too late.”
“Then fix it.”
“I can’t,” he said. “Not without making it worse.”
“Then you’re useless.”
His lips twitched, “Ouch.”
“Good,” I said. “Feel injured.”
He stepped even closer. Too close. Close enough for our wolves to react again—hers alert, his probably smug.
“Look,” he said, his voice low enough that it didn’t echo. “If we’re going to do this fake mate thing—”
“‘If’,” I said sharply.
“Fine,” he said. “If. But if we are, we need ground rules.”
“I already told you—”
“I’m not talking about your rules,” he said. “I’m talking about my rules.”
I blinked, “Your rules?”
“Yes.”
I raised an eyebrow, “This should be good.”
He looked me straight in the eyes, “First one. No ignoring me.”
“No,” I said immediately.
“Second rule,” he continued like I hadn’t spoken. “If we’re in public and someone’s watching, you don’t walk away from me.”
“You don’t own me.”
“I wasn’t claiming ownership. I was stating reality,” he said. “People will test us. Packs will watch. If we look disconnected, nobody buys it.”
I hated that he sounded logical.
“Third,” he said, “you stop acting like talking to me is a personal insult.”
“It is.”
He laughed under his breath, “Sweetheart—”
“Say it again,” I warned, “and I’ll break your nose.”
“You’d break your fake mate’s nose?” he asked. “Bold.”
“I’ll break anything I want.”
“Noted,” he said.
We stared at each other for a long second.
My wolf leaned forward.
His probably did too.
I forced myself to take a step back, “If this is going to work—if—it’s on my terms. I’m not letting you run around doing whatever you want.”
“I already do whatever I want.”
“Not with me.”
He smirked, “Yet.”
I inhaled sharply, “Damian.”
“Yes?”
“Stop.”
He didn’t look like he planned to.
“I have practice,” I said, even though practice was over. “And actual responsibilities. And a brain.”
“Good for you,” he said. “I have a plan.”
“Of course you do,” I replied bluntly, brushing his shoulders as I walked past him.
- Writer
