Dionne
I was only halfway through tying my sneakers when I felt him approach, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. I barely had a chance to straighten up before Hardin was standing right beside me, arms crossed, looking me over with that same unreadable expression
“Thought you’d still be off somewhere with Peyton again,” he started, his voice carrying a trace of accusation.
*He didn’t really need to add the word “again” though*—I thought as I took a breath, forcing myself to keep calm. “Come on, Hardin. It’s been two days already.” I shrugged, keeping my tone light, hoping to disarm whatever confrontation he was gearing up for. “Besides, we’re all here for the tournament, right?”
“Right,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m just making sure you remember that.”
I rolled my eyes b
