The Harder You Fall (Rixon Raiders 3)

“He’s upset about something, and my money is on the fact he feels left out.”

“But we haven’t—”

“If you’re going to try and tell yourself you haven’t excluded him, you’re lying to yourself. And I get it, I do. But look at it through his eyes.”

The three of them stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Okay, good talk. I’ll see you at lunch?” I asked Felicity, who nodded, her mouth still hanging open.

I hadn’t meant to defend Asher but something about the dejection etched into his expression had hit me right in the chest. He was lost all of a sudden, trying to find his new place in the world. Something I could empathize with.

But I didn’t want to have common ground with the football player with a dangerous smile. Because common ground connected us. I was pretty sure he already felt it. But if he knew I also felt it, he’d use it against me.

And I wasn’t sure I could resist his attack forever.

I didn’t purposefully search him out, but when I entered the library where I’d been hiding out for the last couple of days, there he was.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I whispered, dropping into the seat beside him.

“Needed some space and this seemed like a good bet.”

I smothered a laugh.

“What’s funny?” his eyes slid to mine in question.

“Where do you think I’ve been hiding the last two days?”

“Here?”

I nodded.

“No shit. Guess we’re more alike than you give us credit for.”

We sat there, in a secluded corner of the library, in comfortable silence. After a few minutes, I pulled out my jotter and began doodling.

“What are you doing?” Asher leaned over, his head almost touching mine as he watched me sketch.

“Nothing really. I just find it soothing.”

“You’re an artist?”

“God, no. Hailee is an artist. I just like to doodle.”

“It’s cool,” he said. “Reminds me of street art. You know, the kind kids graffiti on abandoned buildings and road signs?”

My pulse ratcheted. “I guess.”

“He taught you, didn’t he?” he asked quietly.

My eyes lifted. “How do you do that? Know what I’m thinking without me even speaking?”

“I know you, Mya, even if you think I don’t.”

The air around us crackled, thick and heavy and alive.

“Asher, I...” I swallowed over the lump in my throat.

“What’s his name?”

“Jermaine,” I croaked.