Chapter 2: The Kiss and the Trap

Even after I got back to my dorm, my face was still burning.

I flopped onto my twin XL mattress, the springs creaking beneath me, and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars I’d stuck on the ceiling my first week here. The radiator hissed softly in the background, and the clatter of keys and laughter drifted in from the hallway. I splashed cold water on my face in the tiny sink by the window, hoping the chill would calm me down, but the memory replayed on a loop every time I blinked.

But gradually, I calmed down.

The familiar hum of fluorescent lights and the distant thump of someone’s bass-heavy playlist helped me find my footing again. I took a few deep breaths, grounding myself in the mundane: textbooks piled on my desk, fencing gear drying on the chair.

Honestly, based on my extensive reading, it’s totally normal for the main character to randomly get flustered around people!

I’d read enough webnovels to know that protagonists are genetically predisposed to emotional turmoil. It’s basically a job requirement. I’d just gotten caught in the crossfire of the plot.

I was just overreacting.

I told myself this, again and again, letting the words sink in like a mantra. This was just a weird blip, not the end of the world.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to chill out.

I changed into sweatpants, cranked the window open to let in some icy November air, and grabbed my practice foil. Focusing on routine always helped.

Once I figured it out, I stopped dwelling and went back to practicing forms.

There was comfort in the repetition: advance, lunge, parry. My mind slipped into autopilot, muscle memory taking over as I replayed every lesson I’d learned from Caleb.

But since I didn’t know how to face Caleb, I started avoiding him and stopped asking for his guidance.

Whenever he appeared at practice, I’d duck into the locker room or busy myself with footwork drills. I’d even started hanging out in the art wing after class, just to steer clear of the gym.

At first, he still came to find me, even trying to apologize.

He’d linger by my locker, offering shy waves and tentative hellos. Once, he even left a Gatorade bottle on my desk with a Post-it: “If you ever want to talk…” followed by a little smiley face.

But later, maybe sensing I was avoiding him, he gradually stopped seeking me out.

I’d see him chatting with other teammates, his easy smile never quite reaching his eyes. The air between us thickened with unsaid words, but neither of us crossed the invisible line.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

But every time I caught a glimpse of him at practice, my stomach knotted, and I had to remind myself why I was doing this.

But without Caleb’s guidance, my fencing plateaued.

No matter how many hours I put in, my footwork stagnated, my parries dulled. My coach offered some advice, but nothing clicked the way Caleb’s corrections used to.

After some thought, I decided to set fencing aside for now and tackle my training bottleneck instead.

I made a mental list of every drill I’d ever done, every motivational quote I’d seen taped to the gym walls. Maybe I just needed to step back—to find another way to break through.

Coincidentally, there were rumors from a rival school about a legendary supplement surfacing.

It started as a whisper in the locker room: some miracle supplement that could push you past your limits, used by state champions and Olympic hopefuls alike. Even Coach had raised an eyebrow when he heard about it.

This supplement could boost your skills without any side effects.

Supposedly, it was FDA-approved and everything, but part of me figured it was probably just the same protein powder they hawk on late-night Instagram ads.

You know, usually anything that speeds up training comes with a nasty price!

Some of the guys joked that you’d end up growing a third arm or flunking a drug test. But if there was even a slim chance it worked…

I was tempted.

Late at night, lying awake and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, I weighed the risks and rewards. I wanted that edge—wanted to prove to myself I could be more than just a footnote in someone else’s story.

Thinking of my stalled progress, I decided to sneak into the rival school and steal the supplement.

It sounded crazy—even to me—but the thought stuck, buzzing in the back of my mind. One bold move, one rule broken, and maybe I’d finally get my chance to shine.

If you’re going to steal something, you have to act the part—no waltzing in through the front door. So I disguised myself and slipped into the rival school undercover.

I grabbed a faded Crestview High custodial shirt from the supply closet, the name “Dale” stitched on the pocket in peeling thread. I borrowed a hoodie from the lost and found, tugged my baseball cap low, and stuffed my hair under it. The rival school, Crestview High, was a maze of identical hallways and vending machines, every wall plastered with motivational posters and schedules for next week’s pep rally.

After sneaking into the gym, I found a janitor napping in the supply closet and quietly borrowed his uniform, promising myself I’d return it before he woke up.

It was a little baggy, but it worked well enough.

The sleeves hung past my fingertips and the pants bunched around my ankles, but no one gave me a second look. I practiced my “tired janitor” shuffle as I walked down the hallway.

Dressed as a guy, I picked up a tray of Gatorade and walked in the direction the janitor had been heading.

I kept my head down, the tray wobbling in my hands. The weight was comforting—something to focus on besides the pounding of my heart.

Soon, I arrived at a locker room.

The door creaked open with a whine, and the sharp tang of disinfectant stung my nose. Somewhere, a shower dripped in the distance, echoing off the tile walls.

The moment I stepped inside and saw the scene before me, my eyes went wide.

My breath caught, and for a second, the world tilted sideways. I’d walked into the middle of a scene straight out of the novel—one I’d hoped I’d never have to witness firsthand.

My gentlemanly, elegant, golden-boy Caleb was now a disheveled mess, cheeks flushed, lying on the floor.

His hair was tousled, his uniform askew, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. He looked nothing like the composed captain I knew.

Beside him, a guy in a black hoodie lounged with his chin propped on his hand, watching the scene with obvious amusement.

His posture screamed confidence, the kind that comes from always being the center of attention. His eyes glittered with a mean sort of delight, like a cat toying with a mouse.

Here it is—the top and bottom’s first ‘game’!

It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, equal parts horrifying and impossible to look away from. The reality of the novel had never felt so close, or so dangerous.

According to the plot, the team captain with a twisted sense of humor would throw Caleb to his buddies to mess with.

This was supposed to be the chapter where things spiraled out of control—the one that made every reader’s blood boil with righteous fury.

So, where were the buddies?

I peered around the room, half-expecting a gang of jocks to jump out from behind the lockers, all muscle and menace.

I scanned the room, trying to spot them.

Every corner was empty. No crowd, no spectators—just me, Caleb, and the captain, the locker room echoing with the sound of my own shaky breath.

But there were only three people in the locker room: the captain, Caleb, and... me.

For a split second, I wondered if I’d missed the memo. Maybe the others were late. Maybe the universe was about to throw me into the eye of the storm, whether I liked it or not.

Just as I was puzzling this out, the captain’s gaze locked onto me.

His eyes were cold, calculating—a predator sizing up his next move. The air felt charged, like the moment before a tornado touches down.

His eyes lit up with excitement.

A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. Whatever game he’d been planning, I’d just become a piece on the board.

"You."

The word was sharp, slicing through the tension like a knife. I felt my pulse jump.

"Take a seat. Right there," the captain ordered casually.

He spoke with the kind of authority that dared you to defy him. His voice was low, almost bored, as if this was all just a warm-up act.

Who? Who’s supposed to sit on the bench?

I glanced over my shoulder, half hoping someone else would step up and take my place. No such luck.

I looked up in horror.

The realization hit me like a slap: he was talking to me. I felt the color drain from my face.

The captain met my gaze and jerked his chin at me.

There was no mistaking his meaning. I was on the hook, whether I wanted to be or not.

My mind went blank. So he meant me!

Panic roared in my ears, drowning out every reasonable thought. All I could do was nod dumbly, legs moving on autopilot.

Apparently annoyed by my hesitation, he flicked his hand and sent me stumbling onto the bench.

He barely touched me, but the message was clear: obey, or else. My knees hit the cold wood, and I gripped the edge of the bench for support.

Every cell in my body screamed, Don’t do it. But my feet moved anyway, like I was stuck in a nightmare.

As soon as I sat up, a soft, warm body fell into my arms.

Caleb slumped against me, all boneless limbs and burning skin. His breath was hot against my collarbone.

Lowering my head, I met Caleb’s glazed, watery eyes.

His pupils were blown wide, unfocused. He looked up at me as if trying to see through a thick fog.

He still had a sliver of clarity left. When I hugged him, he instinctively tried to struggle.

His hands trembled against my shoulders, fingers digging in just enough to remind me he was still there, still fighting.

But then, as if he caught a familiar scent, his struggles faded.

He inhaled deeply, his nose buried in the hollow of my neck. It was a strangely intimate gesture—one that sent a jolt of confusion through me.

A pair of slender hands pressed on my shoulders. Warm, damp breaths ghosted over my neck.

Each exhale tickled my skin, making it hard to tell where the line between comfort and discomfort lay.

Caleb leaned into my neck, sniffing me like a puppy searching for reassurance.

What is this, a dog park? Is he trying to ID me by scent now?

It was absurd and a little heartbreaking. For all his strength, Caleb was just a lost kid in this moment, desperate for something—someone—familiar.

Once he seemed satisfied, his body went limp and he melted into my arms.

I held him as gently as I could, not sure what else to do. The weight of him grounded me, reminding me that this was no longer a scene in a book—I was here, with him, for real.

I was utterly bewildered.

My mind raced, trying to piece together a plan. Every plot twist, every trope, suddenly felt woefully inadequate.

After all, to sneak into the rival school, I hadn’t just disguised my face—I’d even cross-dressed as a guy!

My chest was tightly bound, my voice pitched lower, every detail accounted for. I’d practiced walking with a swagger in front of the mirror, just in case.

There’s no way he could recognize me.

I let out a sigh of relief.

Tension drained from my shoulders. At least that was one disaster averted.

But every time I caught a glimpse of him at practice, my stomach knotted, and I had to remind myself why I was doing this.

The captain, growing impatient, frowned and glared at me.

His scowl was enough to make my blood run cold. He looked like a lion sizing up his prey, ready to pounce if I made the wrong move.

"What are you spacing out for?"

His words snapped me back to attention. I straightened up, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

"Aren’t you going to do anything?"

His voice dripped with challenge, daring me to push back. My heart thudded painfully.

I froze. "Do what?"

My voice sounded thin, almost childlike. I swallowed hard, hoping he’d let me off the hook.

Hearing this, the captain arched a brow, a sly smile spreading across his face.

He leaned back, studying me like a scientist observing a particularly interesting specimen. The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

His gaze drifted slowly from my face to my lower abdomen.

The implication was unmistakable. I felt my skin crawl, every muscle tensing in anticipation of his next move.

"If you don’t want to do that... something else is fine too."

His words hung in the air, heavy with threat. The way he looked at me made my stomach twist in knots.

His look made my whole body tense up.

I could feel sweat prickling at the nape of my neck. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I was rooted to the spot.

Only then did I realize what he meant.

The ugly reality of the situation hit me all at once. This wasn’t just a game to him—it was a test, and the stakes were higher than I’d ever imagined.

My cheeks burned with shame and anger.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms to keep from shaking. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but the risk was too great.

But remembering why I’d come to the rival school in the first place, I forced myself to calm down.

I took a slow, deep breath, trying to focus on the reason I was here: the supplement, the chance to break through my plateau. If I blew my cover now, it would all be for nothing.

Under the captain’s predatory gaze, I looked down at Caleb.

He looked so small, so vulnerable, that my anger softened into something else—something protective. I couldn’t let him get hurt, not if I could help it.

He’d clearly been dosed with something—his mind was foggy, his cheeks never lost their flush.

It was obvious now: the supplement, or something like it, had been used against him. My fists tightened. I’d make sure someone paid for this later.

At the moment, he was snuggled in my arms, nuzzling me like a kitten.

His breath was shallow, his face pressed into my shoulder. He didn’t even seem to register the world around him.

If I really did anything to him in front of the captain, wouldn’t he want to die of embarrassment once he sobered up?

I could already picture it: Caleb’s horrified expression, the fallout at school, the shame that would haunt him for years. I couldn’t do that to him—not for any reason.

That thought made my heart clench. I racked my brain for a way out.

My mind raced through every possible excuse, every way I could stall until help arrived. Time was running out.

"Captain, isn’t this a bit rushed?"

I forced a smile, pitching my voice low and deferential. Maybe flattery would buy me a few precious seconds.

"How about we take things slow?" I ventured, trying to stall for time.

I gestured vaguely, hoping he’d interpret my hesitation as nerves instead of outright rebellion. If I could just keep him talking…

The captain frowned, clearly displeased.

His lips pressed into a thin line. I braced myself for the worst.

Seeing this, I quickly plastered on a fawning smile.

I lowered my gaze, trying to look as harmless as possible. “I just want to make sure I do it right,” I lied, hoping he’d buy it.

He stared at me for a couple of seconds, then, for some reason, his frown smoothed out and a smile returned to his lips.

The tension in the room eased, just a fraction. I exhaled quietly, relief flooding through me.

"You’re right. Taking it slow is more romantic."

He chuckled, as if sharing a private joke. I forced myself to laugh along, hating every second.

"Start with a kiss, then."

His eyes sparkled with sick amusement. He leaned back, making a show of settling in to watch.

He propped his chin on his hand, watching us like it was his favorite reality show.

I could practically hear the imaginary popcorn crunching as he settled in. The whole thing felt surreal—like a bad episode of some reality TV show gone horribly wrong.

My smile froze.

My lips felt glued together, my hands clammy. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t move.

When I still didn’t move, his face turned cold.

His good humor vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by icy disdain. The air in the locker room dropped ten degrees.

"What? Are you unwilling?" he said icily.

His tone was sharp, dangerous. I knew better than to test his patience.

His glare made me nervous, so I hurriedly put on a flattering grin.

I forced myself to meet his gaze, hoping I looked more confident than I felt. “No problem, coach,” I said, praying he wouldn’t notice the tremor in my voice.

"Of course not."

The words tasted like ash in my mouth, but they seemed to do the trick. The captain’s mood shifted instantly.

At that, his mood improved considerably.

He leaned back, folding his arms and giving me a satisfied nod. For now, the spotlight had shifted off of me.

Under his hungry gaze, I took a deep breath, summoned my courage, and leaned down.

Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, but I forced myself to go through the motions. Caleb’s lips were soft, trembling beneath mine.

The moment our lips met, the softness startled me.

My heart jackhammered in my chest. I wanted to pull away, but Caleb’s grip tightened, desperate and lost.

Large hands crept up my shoulders.

He clung to me, desperate and unsteady. I tried to steady him, one hand on his back, the other gently cradling his jaw.

While I was distracted, those hands slid up and gently tightened around my neck.

His grip was gentle, more seeking comfort than control. Still, the intimacy of it made my heart race.

Caleb pulled me closer, tilting his head back, completely yielding to me.

His trust was total, unconditional. I felt a pang of guilt—he had no idea what was really happening, no memory of how he’d gotten here.

As I held him, I stole a glance at the captain, hoping to grab Caleb and make a run for it the moment he was distracted.

My mind worked overtime, cataloguing every possible exit, every tool within reach. If I could just buy a few seconds…

But when I saw the look on the captain’s face, my mouth twitched.

His eyes were glued to us, lips parted in anticipation. I wanted to punch him, to scream, but all I could do was grit my teeth and wait.

He was practically vibrating with excitement, eyes glued to us.

The predatory delight on his face made my skin crawl. I’d never hated anyone so much in my life.

What a creep! Full-on voyeur!

I cursed him silently.

In another life, I’d have roasted him with a string of creative Midwest insults, but now I just bit my tongue and held on.

As if sensing my distraction, Caleb bit me in protest.

A sharp sting jolted me back to the present. I winced, but didn’t pull away. I could almost imagine him whispering, “Pay attention to me,” in that gentle voice of his.

I had no choice but to focus on the task at hand.

I steeled myself, channeling every ounce of courage I had into surviving this moment.

I looked down at Caleb.

He was so vulnerable, so open, it made my chest ache. I wanted to shield him from the world, from this humiliation, from everything.

His eyes were red at the corners, misty and unfocused, his usual gentleness replaced by confusion and longing.

A single tear clung to his lashes, threatening to spill. He looked like a lost child, searching for comfort in a world that no longer made sense.

He let out a soft, contented sigh, so broken and sweet it made my ears burn.

The sound was so raw, so real, it made the whole world fade away. For a moment, I forgot where I was—forgot the captain, the locker room, everything except Caleb’s trembling breath.

I couldn’t help but avert my gaze.

I looked down at the floor, heat crawling up my neck. The shame and guilt mingled, heavy and suffocating.

By chance, my eyes landed on the captain again.

His eyes sparkled with malicious glee. I knew I had to get out, and fast.

Wait, why did he look so eager?

My gut twisted. There was something off here, something worse than I’d imagined.

I had a bad feeling.

My instincts screamed danger. Whatever he had planned, it wouldn’t stop at this.

The next second, the captain couldn’t wait any longer.

He clapped his hands, drawing all attention back to himself. The air in the room snapped taut.

"Enough. Stop kissing."

His tone was final, brooking no argument. I pulled away instantly, heart hammering.

As soon as he spoke, I pulled away.

I wiped my lips on my sleeve, trying to erase the memory. Caleb whimpered, reaching for me again.

Caleb hadn’t recovered from the kiss. When he saw me withdraw, he pouted and leaned toward me again.

His hands flailed, searching for purchase. The helplessness in his expression made my heart twist.

Seeing he was about to kiss me, I quickly covered his mouth.

I pressed my palm gently against his lips, whispering soothing nonsense to calm him down. He blinked up at me, confused and a little hurt.

His long lashes trembled, damp with tears. He looked up at me, pitiful and aggrieved.

I almost caved, almost let him have what he wanted. But the captain’s presence kept me grounded, reminding me what was at stake.

My heart nearly melted under that gaze. I almost gave in.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay strong. Caleb deserved better than this.

But with the captain right there, I forced myself to look away.

I focused on the far wall, counting the tiles to keep from breaking down.

"Coach, what’s wrong?"

I flashed a sycophantic smile.

I tried to keep my tone light, hoping to defuse the situation. “Everything going according to plan?”

The captain stood up and sauntered over to me.

His sneakers squeaked on the tile, each step deliberate, predatory. I tensed, ready to bolt if he made a move.

He lingered over my face for a moment, then, with a casual wave, tossed Caleb aside.

The motion was careless, dismissive. Caleb slumped to the floor, landing in a heap. I bit back a curse, fury surging in my chest.

I was dumbfounded.

This was supposed to be his star player—his pride and joy. How could he treat him like this?

What’s going on? Isn’t he your star player? How can you just throw him away like yesterday’s trash?

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to punch him then and there. Some coach.

While I was still processing this, the captain arched a brow at me, smiling.

His smile was all teeth, predatory and cold. I didn’t trust it for a second.

He sat himself down in my lap, just like Caleb had, and wrapped his arms around my neck.

My whole body went rigid. The weight of him was foreign, unwelcome. I fought the urge to push him off.

My body went rigid. I looked down in disbelief.

My breath came in short, shallow bursts. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

The captain’s face was full of anticipation. When he caught my eye, he looked even more excited.

His pupils were blown wide, a manic gleam in his gaze. I’d never felt more trapped in my life.

"Come on."

He licked his lips, leaning in close enough for me to smell the cheap cologne he wore. My skin crawled.

"Let’s see you put on a show. Give me a kiss."

His demand hung in the air, heavy and inescapable. I realized—whatever happened next, there was no going back.