Cross the Line Read online

  Cross the Line

  Becca Steele

  Cross the Line

  Copyright © 2020 by Becca Steele

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing by One Love Editing

  Proofreading by Sid Damiano

  Cover Design by Opulent Swag & Designs

  Becca Steele

  www.authorbeccasteele.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s crazy imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Playlist

  Author’s note

  Halloween

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Becca Steele

  About the Author

  Playlist

  Cross the Line - yetep, Vincent, Danni Carra

  Wishing Well - Juice WRLD

  Sick Boy - The Chainsmokers

  I Don’t Want to Want You - Phoenikz Avantiz

  Control - Zoe Wees

  Eyes Shut - Years & Years

  Bad Reputation - Shawn Mendes

  To Die For - Sam Smith

  Midnight - Alesso, Liam Payne

  Changing - Conrad Sewell

  Next To Me - Imagine Dragons

  Find the playlist on Spotify or YouTube

  Author’s note

  The author is British, and British English spellings are used throughout.

  For Si & Jon

  It's better to cross the line and face the consequences than to just stare at that line for the rest of your life.

  Unknown

  Halloween

  Flicking the switch on my mask’s LED lights to turn them off, I melted deep into the shadows of the haunted house, undetected, watching him sneak up behind a girl.

  She screamed in terror, struggling against his body. Hot jealousy burned through my veins, and I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to react as my teammate-slash-antagonist murmured something to the girl before lifting his mask, running his lips over the exposed skin of her neck.

  The corridor echoed with the pounding of heavy footsteps, and Carter came up behind him, ripping him away from the girl and simultaneously giving him a shove, in the direction of my hiding place. I heard him snarl, “You’re not playing fair,” before Carter and the girl disappeared.

  I acted on instinct, before I could think it through. Leaping out of the shadows, I threw my body against his, sending us both staggering back against the wall. His mask was still raised, pushed up on the top of his head, and I tore off my own, before bringing my lips to his ear.

  “Hello, Kian.”

  His whole body stiffened, and I heard his breathing quicken as I ran my nose down his jaw.

  When he spoke, he only said one word, but his voice came out as a low, tortured scrape that had my cock stiffening in my jeans.

  “Preston.”

  1

  SEPTEMBER

  “You’re off the team.”

  At those four words, I saw red.

  “Fuck!” Flying out of my chair, I spun and threw it across the room, sending it crashing into the wall. “Fuck!”

  “Mate, calm down.” Carter Blackthorne, Alstone High’s football team captain and my best friend, grabbed me in a hold, pinning my arms.

  “I’ll ignore your little temper tantrum,” Mr. Anders, our football coach, commented dryly. “What did you think would happen? You were irresponsible enough to bring drugs onto school premises, therefore you have to face the consequences.” He continued as if I wasn’t raging, Carter the only thing stopping me from tearing up his office. “You’re lucky it’s only a suspension. Professor Sharpe wanted you permanently kicked off the team, but I managed to talk him out of it. If you can behave, you’ll be allowed back. That means no more trouble while you’re in the vicinity of Alstone High. I don’t care what you do in your own time, but when you’re here, you behave. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes.” I spat the word through gritted teeth. Shit. There was barely any weed in my locker; it was only supposed to be enough to get Professor Sharpe, Alstone High’s headmaster, to call my parents. Maybe a week or two of detention. Being kicked off the football team and being stopped from doing the only thing I was any good at…that hadn’t even featured on my radar.

  Carter released his grip, and I spun towards the door. “You’re suspended from school for a week, as well,” Mr. Anders called after me.

  I slammed my fist into his filing cabinet, welcoming the jarring pain that raced up my arm.

  Could this day get any worse?

  Carter caught up with me as I was stalking across the football pitch. “Kian? What the fuck’s going on with you?”

  Sinking onto the bench at the side of the pitch, I put my head in my hands. “I fucked up, alright? What do you want me to say?”

  Next to me, I heard his heavy sigh as he took a seat. “They’re not worth jeopardising your future for. Now we’ve lost our star player. What are we supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I muttered. Lifting my head, I stared at my best friend. “I’m sorry.”

  He studied me for a moment, concern clear in his gaze, before he clapped me on the shoulder. “Lucky for you, Coach gave me a heads-up, and he thinks he’s found a solution in the meantime while we wait for your return. He’d better be as good as they say, otherwise we really will be screwed.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know the new boy? Preston?”

  “The American?” Yeah, I knew who he was. Preston Montgomery III. Hard to miss him, really, when half of the girls at school had been panting over him ever since the first day he’d shown up.

  He nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. He was on the football team back in his previous school. The coach has seen video footage of him playing, and he said he’s really talented.” His gaze turned to the pitch, looking towards the football goal. “He’s a striker. I’ve invited him to try out for the team. Today.”

  “So I get suspended from school, kicked off the team, and replaced, all in one afternoon? Well, today fucking sucks.”

  “You’re not being replaced. What else am I meant to do, Kian? There’s no one else that’s anywhere near your skill level.” He climbed to his feet as a blond figure came into view at the far end of the pitch. “Be nice,” he warned me, leaving me to sulk on the benches as he jogged over to greet Preston. I watched as they fell into discussion, Carter gesturing towards the goal and the pitch every now and then.

  The rest of the team came filing out of the gym changing rooms, and I steeled myself for the comments I knew were coming my way. I deserved them. This was our final year at Alstone High, one final chance to prove ourselves as football legends before we left for university. Being kicked off the team might have cost us our chance.

  “Before you all say it…” I got to my feet as the team neared me. “Yes, I messed up, but you—we’re a team. I’m only on
e player.”

  “Our best player.” Chris, one of our defenders, gave me a pointed look.

  “Maybe some of you lazy bastards will actually put some work in now.” I clenched my jaw, staring him down until he dropped his gaze.

  “Alright, break it up.” Carter moved to the front of the cluster of players standing around me. Lifting his hand, he waved it in the direction of Preston. “Everyone, this is Preston. He’s trying out for the team today, so let’s put him through his paces. Don’t go easy on him.” He grinned.

  A smugly confident smile spread across Preston’s face. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  After the warm-up, the team moved into formation. From the second Preston touched the ball, I couldn’t tear my gaze away. His strong, muscular legs moved the ball effortlessly down the field, easily bypassing the defence. I could see him instantly calculating his chances, and he took the tiny opening between two players, gracefully flicking the ball to send it curving past the goalie and into the corner of the net.

  Pure fucking poetry in motion.

  “Kian who?” Chris shouted to me as the coach blew the whistle, slapping Preston’s hand in congratulations as he passed him.

  In that moment, I hated Preston Montgomery III.

  After practice was over, Carter gathered the team together to vote. It was only a formality—no one could deny Preston’s skill, plus, the coach had the final say. The vote was unanimous, the whole team fawning over the golden boy, showering him in praise.

  As everyone made their way off the field, on a high, I remained where I was. Slumped on the bench, head in my hands, I was forgotten.

  “Kian?”

  “What do you want?” I sprung to my feet, making Preston stumble backwards in shock. “Come to gloat?”

  “No.” His stupid perfect mouth turned down, his brows pulling together. “I thought I’d come and see if you were okay. You know, after everything.”

  “Why would you care? We’re not friends. You’ve taken my place on the team—congratulations. Now, get out of my face.”

  “Hey, no hard feelings, man. Carter asked me to step in, so I did. The team needs me until you’re back from your suspension.” He eyed me warily.

  “What do you want, a medal? So you had a good game, so what. I’m not interested in talking to you.”

  His eyes hardened, the light going out of them. “Fine. If that’s how you want to be.”

  “It is.”

  “Okay.” His nostrils flared, and his jaw set. “Don’t mistake me for an easy target you can push around.”

  “Don’t mistake me for someone who gives a shit about your feelings. Stay out of my way.”

  A low, rumbling growl came from his throat, but he clamped his mouth shut. Without another word, he dismissed me by turning his back, stalking away in harsh, angry strides.

  Every football practice, I was there, watching from the sidelines, Preston always commanding my entire focus. Torturing myself with the knowledge that I’d been replaced by someone who was easily as good as me, if not better.

  Every day, I resented him a little more.

  Every day, he burrowed deeper under my skin.

  2

  OCTOBER

  “Great job. I had every faith in you, son.” Coach clapped me on the back as I came to a halt at the edge of the field, wiping the sweat from my brows. A huge grin spread across my face. I was an outsider in this place, but here on the field, I belonged. Scoring three goals, winning the praise of my teammates? Nothing could beat that.

  “Not bad, mate.” Carter, soccer team captain and midfielder, held out his hand for a fist bump, which I accepted. The smile remained on my face as he jogged away in the direction of the locker room with the rest of my teammates, their congratulations leaving me on a high.

  Heading over to the side of the field, I swiped a bottle of water from the pile resting on the table, uncapped it, and lifted it to my mouth—then paused, the bottle halfway to my lips.

  Kian Courtland, legendary striker, currently suspended from the team, was watching me from the sidelines with a dark, angry glare in his pale green eyes.

  Guess he was still pissed that I was the one getting the praise. It was his own fault he’d managed to get himself suspended from the team. Being caught with weed in his locker? Yeah, he deserved it. I raised a brow, taunting him, and his gaze narrowed, his fists clenching, probably imagining his hands around my throat.

  My cock stirred in my shorts, and I groaned. Not again. It was difficult enough being the new guy at Alstone High, let alone an American in a foreign country. Add being gay and attracted to someone who was not only harbouring a grudge against me, but was decidedly straight based on the girls he always surrounded himself with?

  It sucked.

  What was it about him? He was my opposite in every way. Black dishevelled hair to my perfectly coiffed blond, lean to my bulkier build, and an abrasive attitude to my generally easy-going nature. And his lip piercing. Couldn’t forget that. The only thing we had in common was our skill on the soccer field.

  Fuck. He was coming over.

  “Think you’re fucking special, do ya, Golden Boy?” He came to a stop in front of me, hostility radiating off him as he stood, arms crossed, shooting daggers from his eyes.

  I rolled my eyes at his juvenile nickname for me. “I know I’m special. What was the view like from the sidelines, Delinquent?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as he took a threatening step towards me. “I told you to never use that word in relation to me again. And fuck you. You’re just the shiny new toy. When I’m back, I’ll be the leading goal scorer again, the team MVP.”

  I let my gaze bore into his, not backing down. Give someone like Kian an inch, and they’d take a mile. We were nose to nose, both more or less the same height, which I was grateful for because it meant he couldn’t use his height to intimidate me. “Stop referring to me as Golden Boy and I might consider it.”

  “Do I look like I take orders from you?” He bristled, shoving against my chest. “Get out of my face.”

  “You’re the one in my face,” I commented mildly, which caused him to bare his teeth in a snarl. My gaze dropped to his lips, his piercing glinting in the sun. Man, I wanted to run my tongue over that piercing. I licked my lips, and his eyes darkened as they followed the movement of my tongue. The tension between us crackled with energy, morphing from hostile to…something else.

  Then, he shoved against my chest again and I stumbled backwards, taken off guard. He let out a low, taunting chuckle, elbowing past me and stalking off the field.

  Back at the house, I dropped my bags by the front door and followed the smell of baking into the kitchen to find my mom in the middle of transferring a tray of cookies, fresh from the oven, onto a cooling rack.

  “Just in time.” I grinned, swooping in on the rack.

  My mom batted my hand away. “Not yet, you’ll burn your mouth. Have patience.” She softened her words with a smile as she looked at me. “How was practice?”

  “Good.” I returned her smile. As usual, she looked completely put together, all blonde elegance—the perfect Stepford wife at first glance, although she was anything but subservient. She and my dad made a great team, and I was lucky to have them as parents.

  “Your father will be home late tonight; he’s caught up at work.” Untying her apron, she hung it on a hook on the back of the door, then began pulling pans from the cupboards.

  I nodded. My dad’s role as a financial analyst often had him working long hours. He’d been handpicked by his US-based employers to move to London, as part of a small team heading up the new branch they’d opened up over the summer. Used to being on the coast, none of us had wanted to live in London, so we’d ended up here in Alstone. From what I’d seen of it so far, it was okay, other than the fact that everything was so fucking small compared to what we were used to. Roads, houses, cars… Still, I guess it made sense, since we were on a tiny island. I missed the US—the feeling of
space, my old home near the beach in Stamford, Connecticut, and my school. Most of all, though, I missed my group of friends—their casual acceptance of my being openly gay, and the way we all looked out for one another.

  I’d spent my eighteenth birthday here alone, since it had taken place before I’d started at Alstone High, and I didn’t yet know anyone. That had been a low point for me, but things had improved since then. Thanks to my soccer skills, I’d quickly become popular in school, although I still felt like the new guy, the outsider. Hence the fact I hadn’t yet broadcast my sexual orientation. I wasn’t ashamed, and I wasn’t about to deny it if I was asked, but I guess the move overseas had left me unsure about my place in this new world. I wanted to be more settled before I announced it.

  I’d been lucky in the past, but my ex-boyfriend, Blake, had gone to a different school…and let’s just say that a broken arm was the least of his problems when he’d come out in front of the entire football team.

  I sighed. I needed to give it time. Moving to a new house was stressful enough, and I’d moved halfway across the world. I couldn’t expect everything to fall into place straight away.

  My mom interrupted my melancholy thoughts, sliding a plate in front of me. Thanking her, I took the plate and headed up to my room.

  After I’d demolished the cookies, I lay on my bed, thinking back to today’s soccer practice, and the heat of Kian’s body pressed against mine as we stared each other down.