The Striker (Gods of the Game, #1)

by Ana Huang

“Your instructor will be Scarlett DuBois.” Coach offered a mirthless smile. “You’re welcome.” DuBois? As in… “Vincent’s sister?” I sputtered. “You’re joking. That’s a conflict of interest!” I’d never seen or met Vincent’s sister, though I’d heard him talk about her. The two were close, which was just my luck. I didn’t need the DuBois siblings conspiring against me together. “I don’t want to train with my sister,” Vincent said. “That’s not…no.”

I didn’t know much about Scarlett DuBois, but given she was related to Vincent, I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to like her. At all.

“Do you know each other?” I asked as casually as possible. She didn’t seem like the type who’d go for Vincent, but stranger things have happened. In hell. She opened her mouth, but Vincent beat her to it. “Of course.” He looked at me like I was stupid. “She’s my sister.”

“However, I have to commend you on achieving something that I thought was impossible.” “What’s that?” “Making me like someone with the last name DuBois.” I rolled my eyes even as I fought an exasperated laugh. “You are an incorrigible flirt.” “Flirt? Yes. Incorrigible? That’s a matter of opinion.”

“Before you say anything else, this…” I gestured between us. “Ends now.” Amusement slid across his infuriatingly perfect face. “What’s this?” “The flirting. It’s unprofessional.” “I’m afraid flirting is part of my nature, darling.”

nor did I move from the doorway. “I’m just that type of student.” “You mean a teacher’s pet?” “Darling, if you want to call me pet, I won’t stop you.”

“Touch my sister, and you’re dead.” “Drop the overprotective brother bit, DuBois. It’s cliché.” “I’m just giving you a friendly warning.” There wasn’t an ounce of friendliness in his expression. “Scarlett is off limits.” “Scarlett can speak for herself.”

“Stop doing that,” she said without looking at me. “Doing what?” “Staring at me.” “Training’s going to be difficult if I’m not allowed to look at you.”

That’s not allowed, remember? It’s one of the rules.” “Do you have many of those?” “What?” “Rules.” “I’m a ballerina. I live by rules.” “That’s too bad.” The light finally turned green, and I broke eye contact to focus on the road. “You’d have more fun without them.”

“I’m not stupid. Besides, I have a strict no-footballer rule. Asher Donovan is not on my romantic radar, and he never will be.”

“I was in the area and thought I’d drop by.” “For?” “No reason. Just felt like it.” “You’re telling me the Asher Donovan has nothing better to do with his time than drop by a ballet academy?” A shadow flickered in those crystalline green eyes. “I have other things I could do,” he said. “I wouldn’t say they’re better.”

“Tell me how you got us here.” My studio was on the first floor, the infirmary was on the fourth, and the lift was currently under maintenance. “I carried you.” He answered so matter-of-factly it took a minute for his words to sink in. “You carried me up three flights of stairs?” Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was my strength training for the day.”

“I know what I’m doing.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I also didn’t make a habit of trusting anyone outside my family and Carina, but in that moment, it was hard to remember why I should keep Asher at arm’s length. He wasn’t my brother’s nemesis or my trainee—he was the person who’d carried me up three flights of stairs, stayed with me until I regained consciousness, and didn’t make me feel like an object of pity when I told him about my accident. And that’s exactly why he’s dangerous.

Unfortunately, it also proved that mantras were bullshit because fourteen days later, Scarlett still haunted my thoughts like a smart-mouthed, entirely-too-beautiful ghost. When I woke up, I anticipated our next session together. When I got behind the wheel, I remembered the night I drove her home in the rain. When I entered her studio, I relived my sheer panic at seeing her collapse and my utter relief when she woke up.

And when I found out I’d never dance professionally again, I hadn’t shed a single tear. Devastation was a private thing, to be confined within the walls of my mind and soul.

Being alone in a beautiful, private studio with Asher after the sun set? Apprehension fluttered through my body like a thousand tiny butterflies. Absolutely not.

Focus on the Sports UK interview. What questions will they ask? Definitely something about my first season with Blackcastle, how I felt losing to my old team, and maybe my summer training regimen. Summer. Training. Scarlett. My groan of frustration cut through the music. Why did everything route back to her? We met a month ago, and I still couldn’t pinpoint why she had such a hold on me.

“Give me a break. It’s been years since I ran like that.” My jelly-like legs confirmed my long break with cardio. The hint of a smile vanished. “Shit. I forgot how high-impact running is. It’s not good for chronic pain, is it?” The warmth in my veins melted into honey. Hell, everything melted. At this rate, they’d have to scrape me off the driveway with a spatula. “You looked up chronic pain?” A wash of dull red colored Asher’s cheekbones. “Out of curiosity, that’s all,” he said. “I didn’t know much about it, so I figured I should learn the basics. Obviously.” “Obviously.”

If her smile was a burglar, her laugh was a fucking thief because I was pretty sure she just stole a piece of my heart from right out under me.

“The point is, your injuries don’t define who you are. Maybe you’re not the same dancer anymore, but who says you have to be? Growth isn’t always linear, and I’ve seen you in the studio. I think you’re still pretty damn incredible.”

Ballet, football. Both careers that came with preset expiration dates. We weren’t like writers or lawyers who could theoretically keep their job until they died. We entered our fields knowing that one day, no matter how hard we tried, our bodies would simply be incapable of performing at the level necessary to sustain our dreams.

Our careers burned brief yet bright, and they were subject to the whims of the universe—one accident, one stroke of bad luck could end everything earlier than we’d expected.

“I think you’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for,” I said. “But at the end of the day, you have to ask yourself what you’d regret more—trying and failing, or not trying at all?”

Every time I thought about Asher, I felt like I was trapped on a runaway train, the wind whipping through my lungs as we barreled toward the edge of a cliff. I knew how the story would end, but for a few precious moments, the sheer exhilaration overshadowed our inevitable doom. Scarlett, darling, are you jealous? You wish. Maybe I do.

Asher wasn’t my ex; he was smarter, funnier, more thoughtful. It was awful. Because smart, funny, thoughtful men were my weakness, and I didn’t have the option of avoiding him until my attraction petered out. I was literally forced to see him multiple times a week.

“Are you meeting someone here?” I asked, hoping a miracle would call him away from this table, in this corner, this close to me. “Nah. I was in the area and decided to drop by.” Asher’s smile could’ve melted the knickers off a nun. “Good thing I did, or I wouldn’t have run into you.”

“The ballerina has claws. I didn’t expect that from you,”

Every time I thought I knew where I stood when it came to him, something happened that threw me off-kilter. There was no steady ground with Asher Donovan. It was a constant sea of change—frustrating, terrifying, and, as much as I hated to admit it, exhilarating.

“Don’t read too much into it. My appearance tonight is strictly platonic.” “Good, because my invitation was strictly platonic.” “Good.” “Good.”

now that Clive was gone and the race was behind me, my thoughts returned to where they always went. Back to her. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“I’m preparing for you to steal half my snacks the way you always do.” I gasped. “Do not.” “Do too.” He pitched his voice higher. “No, thanks, I’m not hungry. Ten minutes later: Vince, can I have some of your chips?”

Me

I hated myself for how wishy-washy that made me. I kissed him, then I ran away. I told him to pretend the kiss never happened, then I tried to provoke him by discussing my upcoming date with Clive. I wanted to make him jealous, but I wanted him to leave me alone.

But as she neared, I realized it wasn’t her clothes or hair or makeup. It was her. It was the way she moved, her hips swaying with a combination of confidence and sultriness that she kept hidden when we were in the studio. It was the soft gleam lighting up her eyes. It was the glow in her face and the smile on her lips.

“I like seeing this side of you.” Asher brought another plate over and sat next to me. His knee touched mine, and he looked so at home in my kitchen that little bursts of warmth flickered in my veins. “The nerdy rambling side?” I asked. “The unguarded side.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “You can ramble about Pluto all you’d like. I won’t judge—too much.” I fought a smile and lost.

I couldn’t control the messes in my life, but I could clean them up at home. Spilled milk? Several swipes of a towel and it was gone. Muddy footprints? Nothing a good mop wouldn’t fix. I could snap my fingers, figuratively speaking, and return things to the way they were. That power provided a small measure of comfort in a world where chaos was the only certainty.

Asher examined the photo more carefully. “You were adorable.” “Were?” I teased. He set the photo down and faced me again. “I think you’ve graduated from adorable to something else.”

“Just because you’re privileged in one way doesn’t mean you can’t struggle in other ways.”

We were the proxies in their long-distance cold war. But at the end of the day, when I took off my pointe shoes and Vincent hung up his football boots, we were their children again. Asher didn’t have that. “If it makes you feel better,” I said. “I prefer Asher to Asher Donovan.” The former was a person; the latter was a brand. I was indifferent about the brand, but I liked the person. A lot. More than I should.

We. That one word alleviated my worries more than anything else he could’ve said. We meant we were in this together. I wasn’t alone.

“That’s my girl.” That’s my girl. Three words shouldn’t have the power to undo me, but they did.

“Do you even know what the choreography is supposed to look like?” She sounded amused. “Yes. It’s supposed to look like how you did it yesterday.”

despite our differences, your brother and I have one thing in common. We both care about you.

I found Scarlett in the crowd again. She smiled at me, her face soft with pride and something else that made my pulse race. Vincent was too busy signing autographs to notice, so I let myself smile back. The noise around us dulled into an indistinguishable roar. No matter where we were or how many people surrounded us, she commanded my attention like a lighthouse in a storm. Bright. Beautiful. Unwavering.

Unfortunately, he was either too arrogant or too stupid to realize I wasn’t joking. He grabbed my arm when I attempted to brush past him. A sour feeling spread through my chest. “Scarlett, I was just⁠—” “Don’t touch her.” My gaze flew to the right just in time to see Asher blaze a path toward us with Vincent hot on his heels. Oh, fuck. Rafael dropped my arm. Asher punched him. And everything went to hell—again.

“Thank you for protecting my sister,” Vincent added stiffly. The stadium had truly emptied by now, and the only sound was our footsteps echoing against the concrete floors. “You didn’t have to do that.” If you only knew.

I’ll always have your back. Always. No matter what happens, there’s nothing in this world that I won’t do for you.

The day had been a mess almost from the start, but I couldn’t deny that this was one of the best nights I’d had in a while. It was normal, Scarlett was with me, and that was all I needed.

I couldn’t imagine a me without him, and that terrified me more than anything else.

I couldn’t describe what it was, but I wanted to give her every good thing in the world.

“It’s not depressing to learn these things about you,” I said. “I want to know you better. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”