Heart of Thorns (Shadow Valley U Book 2)
Heart of Thorns: Chapter 25

I told Thorne I’d be fine, but the truth is, I’m antsy.

Thankfully, I’m good at putting on a front, which is going to come in handy when it’s all said and done and we’re broken up. After spending time together, and touching all the time, I’m afraid that my off-limits heart is going to be full of little thorns by the end.

Pun intended.

“You look… nice,” Lydia muses.

Marley laughs. “One year ago, I never would have guessed that I’d see you at a football game wearing that.”

“Stop it,” I hiss. Do I seem totally out of place?

“Don’t get me wrong.” Marley scoots into the second row, and Lydia and I follow after her. “You look freaking amazing.”

“I look like I always do.”

It’s true. Sure, the sweater is soft and warm, but it’s not that much different from the rest of my sweaters.

“Wow, someone got a makeover,” someone says from behind.

We all three turn, and I catch the eye of some girl I couldn’t point out in a lineup if I had to. She looks like the rest of her girl gang.

Girl gang because they’re all four scowling at me with their bright-red lips and caterpillar-like eyelashes.

A harsh laugh falls from my mouth, and suddenly, everyone is staring at me.

“Sorry.” I smash my lips together.

Marley and Lydia both snicker quietly.

“Don’t you… like… play hockey or something?” one of the lookalikes asks, staring at all three of us.

I swear my knee aches at that exact moment.

“They do.” The blue-eyed one points at Lydia and Marley, purposefully signaling me out. “But she doesn’t… anymore.”

A flicker of red and orange flames loom on the outer part of my memories. I squeeze my fists tight to stay calm.

“Oh, why not?” one asks.

The blue-eyed girl shoots me a cruel smile, and that’s when I notice she’s wearing Thorne’s number. Oh, this ought to be good.

She whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, which turns out not to be a whisper at all, “She’s the girl who burned in that fire last semester. Remember?”

There’s a collective gasp, and I’m red hot with embarrassment.

Anger comes next, and if it wasn’t for Thorne’s parents being in attendance, I probably would have acted irrationally and pulled her by her hair to teach her how to keep her mouth shut.

“Tell us you’re jealous without telling us.” Marley doesn’t bother to hide her laugh.

A huff that comes out more like a shriek catches everyone’s attention. “Jealous? Of her?”

I smile sweetly at the group of girls that I’m certain Mr. and Mrs. Thorne would much prefer their son to take to dinner instead of me. “Well, you are wearing my boyfriend’s number.” I plop my lower lip out and show her some fake pity. “It’s kind of cute that you’re such a fan, even if he doesn’t know your name.”

“He does, too!” She stomps her foot like a brat, and I reach forward to pat her arm.

Only I don’t get a chance to because she flinches away from me. She flicks her blown-out hair over her shoulder and leaves her seat. Her friends skitter after her like little ducklings.

When I see that they’re gone, I finally exhale. I glance back to the field and try to calm my racing heart.

Practice.

That was practice.

The real test is coming, after the game when I’m face-to-face with Thorne’s parents.

Lydia leans in and shouts over the crowd’s growing volume, “That was impressive. I’ve never seen you hold such restraint. On or off the ice.”

I shout back to her while staring at the opening on the field that I know Shadow Valley is seconds from running through, “I have a job to do.”

Unfortunately, this is just the beginning.

My throat is sandpaper.

It’s like I’m back on the ice with my team, screaming for us to get our shit together to win the game.

Shadow Valley is one field goal ahead of Wilder U, and the clock is ticking. One of the Wilder U players gets injured, and I take that as my opportunity to rush to the restroom before I head to the field with the pass that Thorne gave me.

“I’ll be back. I’m going pee,” I say to Lydia and Marley. “If the clock ends before I get back, I’ll see you later.”

Lydia squeezes my hand. “Good luck at dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Priss.”

I laugh and turn, heading in the opposite direction.

It takes me longer than most because of the soreness in my leg. Thorne has created an entire strengthening regimen that I follow to build the muscles along my legs to help support the pain in my knee. It’s working, even if my thigh feels strained from all the toning I’m doing.

I slip inside the restroom. There isn’t a line for once, so I finish my business in record time. After I run my fingers through my wavy hair and apply some lip gloss to prepare for a full-body examination from Thorne’s parents, I leave and rest along the chain link fence near security.

I show him my pass, and he nods, letting me stay near the opening of the field.

I find number thirteen right away, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that I have butterflies.

He’s standing on the sideline, more focused than I’ve ever seen him. The edge of his jaw grows sharper when Wilder U gets the first down. I nibble on my lip and glance back and forth between the game and his rigid stance on the sidelines.

Wilder U makes it to field goal range, and there’s a collective sigh from Shadow Valley fans.

I don’t even have to look on the field to see that they’ve gotten a field goal. I can tell by Thorne’s frustrated posture. He pulls his helmet back on with force.

“Thorne!” I shout.

The security guard shakes his head. He likely thinks I’m some jersey chaser, trying to garner the quarterback’s attention.

But I’m not.

I’m his girlfriend.

Or his fake girlfriend.

Whatever.

When Thorne finds me, he pauses. Surprise replaces his frustration, and I smile.

“Remember that pre-game ritual, baby.” I wink.

I watch him try to hide a grin. He chuckles and points at me, winking right back.

My cheeks are warm to the touch. I shuffle on my brand-new boots and flick my chin to the field.

Get out there and win.

As if he can read my mind, he nods.

Before he heads out, he glances over my shoulder, and his smile falls.

My heart races.

I don’t know why I expect it to be my arsonist, as if Thorne would even know about that, but I’m on edge anyway.

I turn and glance behind me.

Ah.

The parents.

Before greeting them, I send Thorne a reassuring nod. I’ve got this.

He has no choice but to trust me. He rushes the field with the offensive line, and I pray he can throw a touchdown or at the very least, get another field goal to put us ahead before time runs out.

I brace myself for the vetting process I’m about to go through. I spin and fake a smile.

Mr. and Mrs. Thorne are standing alone. Not that I blame anyone for keeping their distance. When Thorne said they’d look out of place, he was right.

His mother, Helena, is wearing a long fur coat and heels that will no doubt sink in the field, and his father is sporting a suit that is freshly pressed and too expensive to be wearing to a college football game.

I approach them slowly. My guards are up.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Thorne! I’m Briar, Thorne’s girlfriend.” Fake girlfriend.

Helena acts surprised, but you can hardly tell due to the Botox. I’m certain she already knew who I was.

“Oh, hello!”

I wouldn’t do this on any other day, but I lean in and give her a hug because I know it’s something that a brainless rich girl would do. They’d probably cut off a limb to get close to their future mother-in-law.

She smells like Chanel and… money.

I swear.

After I back away, I glance at Andrew, who I choose to refer to as Mr. Thorne because it’s very obvious that he expects respect. “Mr. Thorne,” I say, placing my hand out. “It’s so nice to meet you both.”

“Likewise.” His grip is firm, which is no surprise.

The crowd roars, and I pull my hand away to clap. Thorne threw a thirty-yard pass, and they’re in field goal range.

“Let’s see if he can manage not to screw this up,” his father grumbles.

I feel Helena’s eyes on me, probably adding up how much each article of clothing costs. Never mind the fact that their money bought them.

“He won’t,” I say. “Not with you here.”

He scoffs. “I highly doubt my son cares if I’m here or not.”

“Not true,” I lie. “He’s happy you’re here to watch.”

“Oh, please.” Helena laughs lightly and grabs my arm. “I think he’s just excited to show you off. When he told us he had a girlfriend, we didn’t expect… you.”

I fake a giggle, even though I feel a bit like throwing up. “I hope that means I’ve exceeded your expectations.”

Mr. Thorne glances at me out of the corner of his eye. He turns away to watch the game. He’s too hard to read. Helena, though, she has a twinkle in her eye.

“The babies you two would have!” she rejoices. “You’re much prettier than any girl he’s ever introduced us to.”

Never mind the first part of her sentence. I’m too focused on the irrational jealousy I’m swimming in thinking about Thorne introducing another girl to his parents.

“Don’t embarrass me, Cassius!”

Both Helena and I twist to Thorne’s dad and his completely discouraging shout from the sideline.

Either Thorne didn’t hear him or he’s ignoring him.

I shout, too. “Let’s go, Thorne!”

As soon as I cheer him on, the ball snaps. Thorne catches it and backs up, searching for an opening. Wilder U is good at hockey and apparently football, too.

The crowd holds their breath, and I find myself doing the same. At some point, I’ve moved closer to the fence, and although it’s been a few seconds, it feels like hours by the time he throws the ball.

I follow it through the air, praying it makes it into the hands of Rhys. He catches it at the last second, both feet touch down in the end zone, and the fans lose their minds.

“Yes!” I jump up and down. My knee buckles so I grip the fence and keep myself steady.

It’s even better that Rhys was the one who caught the ball, because he’s one of the only other football players who I feel that I can trust.

I’m skeptical of the rest.

I rush the field with my pass as soon as the buzzer sounds, forgetting all about Thorne’s parents.

My only saving grace is that the act of running into Thorne’s arms is something a loving girlfriend would do so at least I make our relationship believable.

It feels awfully believable, too.