Cheating Season

His voice came low, husky. Even through the phone, I could picture the smirk, the sharp, striking eyes darkening when they landed on me.

I chuckled, indulgent. "Anything."

A beat of silence.

Then— "Leila, if I take the championship, you're mine tonight."

The match began.

Through the glass, I watched Joel slip on his headset, fingers flying across the keyboard. His expression? Sharp. Unshakable. Locked in.

Not once did he falter.

Until the final score blazed across the screen—3:0.

[Champions!!!]

Only then did he stand, bathed in the deafening cheers, the flashing lights.

And through the chaos, his eyes found mine.

I mouthed, "Congrats."

He grinned, mimicking me.

"Now, you're mine."

Tonight belonged to Joel.

***

By the time the post-match interviews wrapped, it was late.

Outside, a light drizzle misted the air.

I had just slipped into the dim back path toward the parking lot when a hand grabbed me—yanking me into a car.

"Trying to run again?"

The crisp scent of rain clung to the night, but his body burned hot.

A single word flickered through my mind—restless.

I tensed, but he only held me tighter.

Sighing, I gave in. "I wasn't running. You were still in the interview, so I went to take care of something. I didn't expect you to finish so quickly—"

"You always say things so nicely, but no one ever really knows what you're thinking."

His arms locked around me from behind. He was kissing my ear.

Warm breath. Slow exhales against my hair. A tingling sensation followed.

Each exhale brushed against my hair, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

"The interview wasn't over. I got bored. So I left. I wanted to see you."

A nineteen-year-old with boundless energy.

Under the dim car light, he kissed me inch by inch.

Then—his teeth grazed my neck, a sharp bite leaving a faint sting.

"Leila, you made a promise." His voice dripped with amusement. "I won. How are you going to reward me tonight?"

"I—" My vision blurred.

I blinked hard, pushing back the tears threatening to well up from the intensity of it all.

And just as my sight cleared—two painfully familiar figures appeared.

"I told you, Scott! This is Joel Arnoult's car!"

A second later, Gigi bent down, rapping on the window, voice bright and eager.

"Mr. Arnoult! I'm a huge fan! Can you sign something for me and my boyfriend?"

***

Gigi was so close—just inches away.

Logically, she couldn't see inside.

But under her expectant gaze, my whole body locked up.

Behind me, Joel chuckled, low and rough. "You're nervous?"

His teeth left my skin.

The sting couldn't register before warmth replaced it—wet, lingering.

His breath came quicker, fanning over the back of my neck.

"If you're so afraid of getting caught, why'd you come to me in the first place?"

His tone dipped—teasing, dangerous. "Or maybe... I should just roll down the window and tell them to get lost. What do you think?"

For the first time, I caught a glimpse of something beneath the usual playfulness—a quiet, untamed madness.