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CHAPTER 18: THE BLUEPRINT OF US
publish date:
2026-07-16 00:10:54
Latest chapter
Taming the varsity player CHAPTER 20: SHADOWBOXING
MIKE The heavy leather punching bag swung violently on its chains, absorbing the brutal impact of my knuckles. Sweat glistened across my broad, tense shoulders, my golden-blonde hair damp and sticking to my forehead. I didn't bother with wraps; the raw, stinging ache in my hands was the only thing grounding me. I was losing my mind. Ever since Tuesday evening in the library, when I had pinned her hand to the trackpad and read those raw, piercing lines of her manuscript, the atmosphere on the estate had turned completely toxic. She had fled like I was a monster. And today, Wednesday, she had treated me like an absolute ghost. She had skipped our morning ride, taken the public bus before dawn, and literally sat on the opposite side of the AP English classroom, using rows of basic students as a human shield. "Man, calm down before you burst the leather," Jake murmured, leaning back against the weight bench in the mansion’s private garage gym. He was idly spinning a basketball o
Taming the varsity player CHAPTER 19: THE COLD CORRIDORS
The harsh, metallic rattle of the public transit bus was a brutal reminder of the world I actually belonged to. It was barely 6:30 AM on Wednesday morning, and the sky over Oakridge was wrapped in a heavy, suffocating grey mist. I sat by the scratched window, my knees pulled tight against the seat in front of me. I was wearing a dark charcoal oversized crewneck sweater that completely engulfed my tall frame, paired with wide-leg chocolate brown corduroy pants and my favorite worn-out leather boots. My copper waves were claw-clipped securely at the back, but I felt entirely exposed. I had slipped out of the estate’s guest cottage before the main mansion had even begun to wake up, deliberately dodging the sleek sports car that usually waited near the gates. I wasn't just avoiding Mike in the hallways today; I was avoiding him at home, too. Walking out onto the gravel path in the freezing dawn light was the only way to ensure I wouldn't be forced into his passenger seat. The memory
Taming the varsity player CHAPTER 18: THE BLUEPRINT OF US
The Tuesday afternoon bell at Oakridge High didn't just signal the end of classes; it felt like a starting gun. I spent the entire day trying to ignore the lingering glances in the hallway, but my mind was completely stuck on the small, folded sticky note tucked inside my pocket. During AP English, Mike had walked past my desk to hand in his paper, and with a swift, entirely invisible movement, he had dropped the note onto my binder. It just had his sharp, heavy handwriting: 4:30 PM. The Mansion Library. Don't be late, Gilbert. At exactly 4:30 PM, I walked up the grand stone steps of the main Weller mansion, my heart doing a nervous little dance against my ribs. I had changed into a cozy, comfortable outfit—a thick, oversized thrifted cream sweater that swallowed my frame, dark leggings, and my leather boots. My vibrant copper waves were pulled up into a messy claw clip, letting a few loose strands frame my face. I pushed the heavy oak doors of the private library, and my brea
Taming the varsity player CHAPTER 17: BLACKOUTS AND BLUEPRINTS
The heavy double doors of the Elm Street sports complex thudded shut behind us, cutting off the crisp afternoon air. Inside, the massive gym echoed with the high-pitched squeak of sneakers, sharp referee whistles, and the heavy, rhythmic pounding of basketballs. The state select scrimmage was in full swing. I walked into the lobby, Ethan’s hand resting protectively against the small of my back. He had insisted on walking me in, his flannel shirt open, his posture relaxed but completely steady as he navigated the jock-heavy environment. Out on the court, Mike Weller was a force of nature. He was glistening with sweat, his jersey clinging to his broad, athletic chest as he drove past a defender, elevating effortlessly to slam the ball through the net with a ferocious, ringing rattle of the rim. He looked impossibly dominant, a golden king in his element. But the moment his sneakers hit the hardwood on the descent, his piercing blue eyes snapped toward the entrance. Mike froze.
Taming the varsity player CHAPTER 16: THE HIGH SCHOOL VULTURE CULTURE
The sleek, dark window of Mike Weller’s sports car glided down, letting in the crisp Monday morning air as the vehicle idled smoothly at the Oakridge High drop-off gate. I climbed out of the back seat, adjusting the straps of my faded canvas backpack. I was wearing a casual, artsy outfit—high-waisted vintage denim jeans that hugged my frame perfectly, paired with a simple fitted black baby tee and my favorite worn-out leather boots. My wild copper waves were loosely held back by a dark brown claw clip, a few stray strands framing my pale face. "See you later, Gilbert," Jake called out from the passenger seat, his green eyes flashing with a warm, casual friendliness. Chad just gave a short, silent nod from the back, his massive shoulders shifting under his varsity jacket. Mike sat behind the steering wheel, his large hands resting loosely on the leather. He didn't look at me. His piercing blue eyes were fixed straight ahead on the crowded school entrance, his sharp jawline tight
Taming the varsity player CHAPTER 15: THE COLD SHORE
The quiet hum of the central air conditioning was the first thing that drifted into my consciousness on Sunday morning. I opened my hazel eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar luxury of the main mansion’s guest suite. I rolled over, the silk sheets rustling around me, and immediately caught the lingering scent of cedarwood and leather. I was still completely drowned in Mike’s massive black-and-gold varsity jacket hoodie. I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. My thoughts immediately drifted to the middle of the night—the quiet stillness of the bathroom, the meticulous way Mike’s large, calloused hands had wiped the sticky liquid from my face, and the rough honesty in his voice when he sat on the edge of my mattress. He admitted he cares about me. The thought made a strange, fluttering ache bloom deep in my chest. He hadn't been the arrogant, untouchable king of Oakridge High last night. He had been soft. Gentle. He had bared a piece of his real self just to make sure I felt safe
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