Ruthless knight

Sawyer

Holy shit. They won!

I’m so excited I jump up and down, pumping my fist in the air. 

It’s only when I notice Cole looking toward the stands with a sad expression on his face that I realize…

He’s looking for me. 

It’s a good thing I’m wearing a giant stupid knight head because I’m most definitely frowning as I join the cheerleaders. 

My sprinkler is barely a sprinkle…and the moment I’m done, I run off the field. 

I’m halfway to the chemistry lab to change into my regular clothes when my phone rings. 

Cole’s name flashes across the screen. 

Shit. 

“Hey,” I say when I pick up. “Great game.” 

“How would you know?” he questions. 

“Duh. I was there, silly. I saw everything. You were amaz—”

“Jace said he never saw you.”

Dammit. That rat bastard. This is what I get for rooting for him and Dylan…even when he was an asshole to her. 

“That’s because he didn’t…I didn’t sit with him. It was so packed.” 

“There was an empty seat right next to him and Dylan.” 

I open my mouth to tell him the truth, but I can’t. 

I told Oakley I’d keep his secret, and I’m not the type of person who goes back on her word. 

I’ll just have to track Oakley down and have him tell Scott that I’m spilling the beans to Cole. 

In the meantime, I have to tell a little white lie. 

“I’m sorry, Cole. My boss called me into work the second I got to the game. There was an emergency and—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“I should have,” I admit. “I just didn’t want you to be mad.” 

“I’m not mad at you, Sawyer. Disappointed you didn’t come…sure. But I get it. Your boss is a dick.” 

“Trust me, you have no idea.” 

“What time do you get off?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean work…right. Eleven. Why?”

“Want to go to Christian’s with me later? I can pick you up. Or…we can do something else if you want.” I start to answer him, but then he says, “I don’t mean sex. Although I wouldn’t mind sex. I just want to see you…I don’t give a fuck what we do.” 

Hold the phone. “Was that your way of asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe.” He clears his throat. “Actually, you know what? It fucking was. Got a problem with it, Church?” 

“I can’t seem to think of one, Covington.”  

“Good. I’ll see you at eleven.” 

With that, he hangs up the phone.