Colton Cavanaugh. I can’t stand him. Entitled and smug, he takes whatever he wants—praise, people, things that aren’t his to claim. And the worst part? Everyone still worships him. His impressive footwork on the soccer pitch. That cocky smile. The charm he wears like armor. But I see through it. I know his game on and off the field.
And I refuse to be his next move.
But the more we face off—the tension growing thick between us—the more I start to unravel. A wink, a shove, a smirk from him and I’m buzzing, like a live wire ready to snap. My body reacts to him in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s messy, confusing, and impossible to ignore.
I’m not gay. Never wanted a guy—until Colton.
I just wanted back what he took from me… so why does it feel like I could give him everything?
