Page 6 of Hating On Riot

Riley would be the perfect victim. She’s Midnight’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, and Midnight Sterling is looked at as the untouchable king of Dumas. He’s rich, his family is rich, he’s very good-looking, and the Sterlings were among Dumas’s founding families. Unfortunately for Bella, Riley is super private and keeps her friend group strictly to us.

“Remind me again why I’m staying with you?”

“I gotta know my teammates’ strengths and weaknesses. Need to understand what in their lives is messing with their heads too.”

Resting his hands on his hips, he bends at the waist and stares at me contemplatively before running his gaze over me from head to toe, his head cocked. Is he trying to peel back my layers? I grunt. Good luck with that.

“Satisfied with what you see?” I ask, smirking.

He ignores me. No surprise there. He’s avoided me for four years.

He straightens. “Understand that when I say teammates, I’m referring to you. Your M and S&W will determine whether we win or lose. If you’re taking mental notes, jot down M and S&W. I like to speak in shorthand.”

I roll my eyes. “Your shorthand is nothing new to me, and what you’re saying is a bunch of BS. You have no research to back up your ridiculous claim.”

“I might not have scientific research stored here,” he says, pointing to his head, “but I’ve seen guys make crap moves on the field and lose us games when they’re going through a breakup or haven’t blown their loads in a while.”

“Cereally? Blow their loads? That’s so”—I wave my hand. He raises a brow—“So bro-talk, and I’m digging it?” I say, mimicking his brow action.

“That’s better.”

He laughs, and I can’t move or stop staring. His laughter softens the sharp angles of his face and draws my eyes to the gleam in his. A lot has changed in the four years I’ve kept my distance. He seems taller, more muscular . . . sexier.

Suddenly, Riot is a man, not the boy I secretly dated until a stolen kiss destroyed us. Having a class with him will kill me slowly and softly.

“I’m surprised your brothers are okay with you crashing at a house full of guys.” He walks over and opens the curtains.

Sunlight filters in, casting a soft glow across the chiseled lines of his face. A halo of light hovers over his pitch-black hair. If Riot grew wings right now, I would say he is a girl’s vision of a fallen angel come to life. Tall and all dark, from his brows and unshaven face to his onyx hair, cut tight on the sides and unruly on top.

I turn away from him and busy myself with unpacking my clothes, which I store in neat piles by tops, bottoms, and intimates in different drawers of the dresser. I shouldn’t be interested in how much sexier Riot’s become over the years, but I am. Too much for my own good. My brothers will have my ass, and then they’ll kick his if my cover is blown.

“Tony and Cameron are okay with it because they think I’m staying over at Cooper’s.”

“You stay at Wilder’s often?”

There’s curiosity with a hint of defeat, which surprises me. Riot has always been strong in my eyes. Stubborn too. I don’t like hearing the defeat in his voice, even though I hate him.

I close the drawers and face him. “Yes. He’s my friend.” Was my friend.

“I thought you’re his girl?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny the rumors.”

He furrows his brow. “Huh, that’s the same answer Wilder gave me.”

“You spoke to him?” Cooper never mentioned that to me.

“Hell yeah, I did. So, you two have been an item for four years? That’s a long time, Arie.”

“Longer than our three years, right, Riot? That’s the point you’re trying to make?”

“Three. Four. I don’t give a fuck, Arie. You were mine first.” He steps forward until we’re toe to toe.

I glance up. “You had my first kiss. That’s it. I’ve given everything else to Cooper.”

He scowls. “So, the rumor is true.”

He moves away from me, taking the heat radiating from his body with him. I miss his heat. I hate the hurt in his voice. But I’m not done hating on Riot. It’s not my fault I hate him. He’s earned it.