Bared To You (Sinful Nights)

Ashley The gym vibrated not from the bass of some pre-game hype music, but from the sheer, unadulterated frenzy of the crowd. Every pair of eyes, it seemed, was glued to the volleyball court, and every single scream was aimed at one person, Hayden freaking Blackwood which was annoying. I clenched my jaw, the plastic water bottle in my hand creaking ominously. My boyfriend, Abel, was out there too, for God's sake! He was the captain, the setter, the one who strategically placed every ball so Ace McSteal-the-Spotlight could spike it into oblivion. But did anyone care? Nope. It was all "Hayden! Hayden! Hayden!" "Oh my god, Ash, he is killing it so bad!" My best friend, Maya, squealed beside me, practically excitedly vibrating. Her eyes were sparkling as if she had just witnessed the second coming, and let me tell you, the only thing coming here was my blood pressure, which was rising fast. "Abel's playing well too," I mumbled, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. After all, being a supportive girlfriend was part of the deal, right? Even when the world was clearly conspiring against me. Maya waved a dismissive hand, barely sparing Abel a glance. "Oh, yeah, Abel is good. But Hayden? He's... different. Have you seen him jump? It's like gravity just takes a personal day. And those arms..." She fanned herself dramatically and I rolled my eyes. I stifled a groan, of course, Maya was on Team Hayden just like everyone was. It was a global conspiracy, I was sure of it, nothing less. "He's just... athletic," I said flatly, trying to kill the irritation that always bubbled up whenever Hayden Blackwood's name was even whispered in my vicinity. "Athletic? He is a goddamn athlete, Ashley! Plus, have you noticed how polite he is? Remember when Mrs. Davison spilled her coffee the other day? Hayden was the only one who helped her clean it up!" Polite? Considerate? Please! That's the facade he puts on for everyone else. What Maya and the rest of the world didn't know was that beneath that charming smile and those infuriatingly sculpted cheekbones lurked... well, a jerk. A master manipulator, a... an arch-nemesis. Hayden Blackwood and I... well, we had history, bad history. We had been locking horns since we started living under the same roof for nearly ten years. Our parents were close friends. After his parents moved abroad when he was eight, they left him in the care of my family. To my parents, he was the perfect houseguest, so polite, respectful, the 'big brother' they'd always wanted me to have. But what they don't know is, he was the devil in a letterman jacket. He'd taken my bedroom the first night he arrived, banishing me to the attic like some forgotten stepchild and it had escalated over the years into a full-blown, win-at-all-costs rivalry and also we pretended we didn't know each other at school. And what about grades? Sport? Who could chug a Slurpee the fastest at the 7-Eleven after the game? (I still maintain he cheated on that one.) You name it, we had fought over it. And the worst part? No one ever believed me when I told them what he was really like. "Hayden? But he's so lovely!" they would all coo. It was enough to make me scream. My eyes swept back to the court, the tension was noticeable, the scoreboards showed a tie - 24-24. The final point. My nails dug into the plastic of the water bottle. And then suddenly, Abel set the ball, a perfect arc against the bright gym lights. And Hayden? He leaped, in fact, he flew. He massacred that poor volleyball, slamming it down into the opposite court with brutal force. The crowd exploded with cheers, which was deafening as confetti rained down. The team piled onto Hayden in a sweaty, jubilant heap. I saw Abel's face and he was staring at Hayden, a flicker of something dark and resentful in his eyes. My heart sank, I know how Abel worked hard, he deserved the recognition. He deserved more than to be overshadowed by Hayden Blackwood's gravity-defying act. I tried pushing through the celebrating crowd and I made my way towards Abel. "You did great, babe," I said, trying to keep my voice light and encouraging with a wide smile on my lips. He barely glanced at me, his jaws tensed. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered, ripping off his sweat-drenched jersey and letting it fall to the floor. Then, without another word, he stomped off towards the locker room. My shoulders slumped. Great! I turned to look at Hayden who was right there, basking in the adoration of everyone. He was surrounded by teammates, fans, and at least three girls batting their eyelashes at him with disturbing enthusiasm. I felt Irritated as I glanced over, my eyes locking with his. He grinned at me, not a friendly, appreciative grin. But that knowing, infuriating one, "I won" smirk that I had come to despise. Then, he winked. Winked?! I narrowed my eyes at him, he knew this was getting to me, he knew Abel was upset and he was deliberately twisting the knife. "Show off," I muttered under my breath, loud enough for him to hear. His grin widened. "Jealous, Ashley?" he called out, his voice laced with amusement. "Of what? Your questionable fashion sense? You do know neon green went out of style like, a decade ago, right?" I retorted, instantly regretting it. Why did I always rise to his bait? He chuckled, the sound low and dangerously appealing. "Ouch. Harsh words from the team's self-proclaimed fashion guru. But let's be honest, darling. You are not really talking about my jersey, are you?" "I have no idea what you are talking about, Blackwood," I snapped, grabbing Abel's discarded jersey. "Just try not to break any more bones patting yourself on the back, okay?" "Wouldn't dream of it," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Unless, of course, you would like to help me ice them down later." My cheeks flushed. He was deliberately being suggestive, knowing it would get under my skin. "In your dreams," I said, turning away and heading towards the locker room. As I stood straight from picking up the jersey Abel had angrily thrown aside, a strange scent wafted up, something sweet and unfamiliar. It wasn't my perfume, and it definitely wasn't Abel's usual sports drink-and-sweat combo. It was... different, like a scent from another female.