Reckless Games: Rixon High, #2.5

By L. A. Cotton

From USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author L A Cotton, comes an enemies-to-lovers romance. Angst... drama... friendship... and football. Will you survive senior year?

Carrie-Anne Trombley has always been invisible.
But behind her book smart, snarky attitude is a girl desperate to know what it feels like to belong.

Bryan Hughes has always been Mr. Popular.
But behind his goofball jock exterior is a guy desperate to know what it feels like to be wanted.

It starts with a challenge; one last school project before graduation.

He's everything she hates to want.
She's everything he wants to hate.
But there's no denying how much they get under each other's skin.

There's just one problem ... the end of high school is right around the corner.

And their plans for the future didn't include falling in love.


* Reckless Games is a 35,000 word novella set in the Rixon High series. It was previously published in the Hot Summer School Nights anthology and has since been expanded.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Delesty Books
• Release date: Sep 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201016517

L. A. Cotton

Addictive Romance Author of mature young adult and new adult novels, L A is happiest writing the kind of books she loves to read: addictive stories full of teenage angst, tension, twists and turns. Home is a small town in the middle of England where she currently juggles being a full-time writer with being a mother/referee to two little people. In her spare time (and when she’s not camped out in front of the laptop) you’ll most likely find L A immersed in a book, escaping the chaos that is life.

Book preview

Chapter One

Bryan

You’re doing it again, Gav, my best friend, nudged my arm and I blinked over at him.

Huh?

Staring… at Peyton. His brows quirked up.

I’m not— I let out a weary sigh because he was right. I was staring.

I couldn’t help it.

You know that ship has sailed, dude. She’s living with Coach Chase now. She’s his…

Yeah, I know.

But there had been a time I thought Peyton Myers might have been mine. We had fun together at the beginning of senior year. Fooled around some and had this whole flirty vibe going on. But then everything went to shit, and she ended up falling for our football coach.

I couldn’t resent her for it, not really. She’d never promised me anything and I hadn’t taken the hint—and there had been many.

But Peyton was… fuck, she was like no one I’d ever known.

Do you? Gav snorted. Because you’re staring at her like—

It isn’t like that. We’re friends. In fact, she was one of my best friends. It’s just… it’s almost graduation and Kaiden and Lily are practically engaged, Peyton is shacked up with Coach, and we’re—

Whoa, asshole. Gav balked. Speak for yourself. I’m not looking to settle down before we go off to college and neither should you be. It’s college, Bry. Two words: freshman pussy.

Yeah, you’re right. I forced a smile. You’re totally right.

In four months, I would be leaving Rixon and heading for Michigan. I didn’t need a girlfriend tying me down. Not when there would be a whole heap of college girls ripe for the picking.

What are you two doing over here? Kaiden, the glue to our trio, strolled over to us.

Just admiring the view. I smirked, flicking my head over to where his girlfriend Lily, Peyton, and their friend Ashleigh were splashing in the pool.

Pervert, he mumbled.

Have you seen your girl and her friends?

Don’t let Xander hear you talking about Peyton like that; he’ll kick your ass six ways from Sunday.

Relax, I huffed, I am fully aware that Peyton is off-limits. Just because I’m looking doesn’t mean I have any intentions of touching.

Are you scared? Kaiden asked, looking from me to Gav.

Scared? Of what, Coach Chase?

No, dumbass. About leaving Rixon and starting college.

Nah, Gav replied. It’s just another adventure.

What about you? Kaiden flicked his gaze to mine.

I shrugged. I won’t miss this place. My eyes ran over the indoor pool. It was over the top, no expense spared. It was the same with the rest of the house. Everything was top of the line; nothing but the best for my parents, Mitchell and Jenny Hughes. But it was an empty shell most of the time. My parents were barely here and when they were, they were already planning their next trip. I was grateful to want for nothing in life, but it didn’t mean much without people—family—to share it with.

They’ll be at graduation, right? Gav asked.

Who knows? I focused on a spot on the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking our excessive yard. I mean, it was graduation so I figured they would take time out of their busy schedules to attend, but I didn’t plan on getting my hopes up.

Another month, and then high school was over. Done. Finished. Me and my best friends would all be going our separate ways. At the beginning of senior year, I’d been thirsty for it. Eager to play one stellar final season of football and then cruise into the last semester. But everything felt different lately.

I felt different.

I couldn’t quite put a finger on what was wrong, but I felt restless.

Maybe I just needed to get laid and move on. But part of me was still hung up on Peyton. She was my friend, and I was happy for her, of course I was. But she would always be the one who got away.

And the reality was, it sucked to be the guy left behind in the dust.

Monday at school was just like every other Monday—long and boring. It didn’t help that I had two classes with Carrie-Anne Trombley.

If Peyton was my Achilles’ heel, Carrie-Anne was an itch that no matter how much I scratched, it never went away.

The girl was as annoying as fuck, yet I found myself unable to stop pushing her buttons. Probably because since Peyton graduated early, I had no one else in class to talk to.

Not that we talked exactly.

Psst, Caz, I whispered over my shoulder. Did you have a good weekend?

Shut up. She scowled. And turn around.

My lip curved with a wicked grin. She made it too damn easy, and I was like a bull to a red flag.

I faced the front again, chewing the end of my pen as Mr. Keefer droned on about the senior yearbook.

Principal Kiln asked the yearbook committee to arrange this year’s legacy project, and it has been decided that in conjunction with the art department, a legacy tree will be painted on the wall outside of the administration office so that every year, the senior class can each leave one memory, their legacy, on the tree. Carrie-Anne, would you like to say a few words about the project?

Of course, she would be involved. Carrie-Anne was that girl.

I turned around, hardly surprised to find her cheeks fire truck red as her eyes darted wildly around the room. I… uh, I think you said it all, Mr. Keefer.

Oh, come on, don’t be shy, he encouraged. I’m sure your classmates would love to hear all about the project.

She blushed harder, and I smirked at her. You heard, Mr. K. We’d all love to hear more about the project, Caz.

Inhaling a sharp breath, she pursed her lips at me. My blood heated at the irritation in her eyes. I didn’t know why the fuck I enjoyed pushing her buttons so much, but I did.

Carrie-Anne swallowed thickly, then cleared her throat. Every student in senior year will be asked to submit their contribution over the course of the week. The form will be emailed to everyone, or paper copies can be found outside the administration office. Each submission will then be engraved onto a wooden leaf, before being installed onto the tree. The idea is that every year the tree will grow.

Thank you, Carrie-Anne.

She sank into her chair as if she wished it would swallow her whole. My brow quirked and she glowered. What? she snarled under her breath.

You’re cute when you blush. The words spilled out before I could stop them.

Shit.

Carrie-Anne wasn’t cute. She was… the opposite of cute.

Book smart, studious, always early for class. I bet she’d never broken a rule in her life.

She kicked the leg of my chair, making me jerk forward, slamming my elbow into the edge of the table. Fuck, I hissed, pain ricocheting down my arm.

Smothering a smug laugh, Carrie-Anne cocked her head, daring me to say anything else.

Jesus, she got under my skin. But not in a good way…

Peyton had tried to set us up once, convinced that Carrie-Anne harbored some kind of secret crush on me. But we weren’t compatible. She hated athletes, especially football players, and despite the season being over, I was a Rixon Raider through and through. She wasn’t exactly my type either, even if our banter did get my blood pumping.

Yeah, I really needed to get laid. Maybe this weekend I’d drag Gav to a party and find a cute blonde to assist me with working off all this restless energy I had coursing through my veins.

That would do it.

At least, I hoped like fuck it would.

The bell rang and everyone filed out of the class eager to get to lunch. But I lingered, in no great rush to spend another hour watching Kaiden and Lily make out. I loved the guy—he was one of my best friends—but I didn’t need to see him tonguing his girl while I tried to eat my lunch.

I noticed Carrie-Anne and Mr. Keefer in hushed conversation at the front of the room as I shoved everything into my bag. She seemed tense; her brows knitted together as he gave her an encouraging smile.

I’m sure you can find someone to help you, he said, as I approached.

Oh, it’s no problem, I can get them done in time.

Carrie-Anne, there are almost ninety students in your class. Even if they don’t all submit something, you’ll never get them done in time. I can speak to the rest of the yearbook committee. I’m sure—

I’ll never know why I didn’t keep walking, but I didn’t, slowing down as I reached them.

Mr. Hughes? Mr. Keefer glanced up at me. Something I can help you with?

No, sir. Just heading out. I thumbed toward the door, my eyes sliding to Carrie-Anne’s. She lowered her gaze, finding something on his desk interesting.

A small smirk tugged at my mouth as I moved toward the door.

Actually, Mr. Hughes, you could be just the guy we’re looking for.

I glanced back, frowning. Say what now?

Carrie-Anne is in need of a little help to ensure the legacy tree is ready for its grand unveiling and I know how much school spirit means to you. How do you feel about—

Honestly, I can do it, sir, she rushed out. It’s my project. I’ll make sure it’s a success.

He relaxed back in his chair. I don’t doubt that, but an extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt. What do you say, Bryan? Take one for the team?

He doesn’t want to help me engrave a bunch of wooden leaves, Mr. Keefer. This is—

What exactly does it entail? I asked, cutting her off.

She was so eager to get rid of me, it rubbed me the wrong way.

Mr. Keefer’s mouth quirked up. "The art department is taking