Rules are there to be broken, right?
Dominic Hunt never played by the rules. The campus playboy till the end of time. Half British heartthrob. Hitter of the Year. Classic Car maniac. Rockstar. Ruler of campus.
His life was predictable-a never-ending...
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, clearly torn between being insulted and determined. Finally, she huffed. "Fine." and she stormed off. Still, giddiness overpowered her annoyance.
Dominic stood there, the faintest frown at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained distant.
Anything to forget.. he thought bitterly. But deep down, he knew it wouldn't work.
It never did.
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The group slumped around Dominic. Liam placed a firm hand on his shoulder and he nodded weakly, jaw tightening as if words were just too heavy to utter. "Now.. the most important thing is—what do you want to do?"
Dominic froze, his bro's words slicing through his haze like a dagger. This is finally it. The time. It's about action. Your forgiveness—your trust.
"Yeah, you're right." His voice steady now, fists curling with newfound determination. "I have to get her back."
Wyatt's face lit up. He grinned smugly and clapped the bro on the back. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Cavill, standing off to the side, stepped in with a sharp nod. "You need a strategy."
Dan quickly chimed in, nodding in agreement. "He's right."
"Of course I'm right," Tyler quipped, crossing his arms.
Liam, never missing an opportunity, leaned in with a smirk. "I knew you had potential."
"Wait—do I have a say in this?" the bro asked, raising an eyebrow.
Almost in unison, the group replied, "No."
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"Alright, everyone, you know the drill?!"
Tyler's voice boomed across the field, his commanding tone echoing through the empty space. The team assembled in a chaotic, makeshift line, their 'army' gear an eclectic mix of camo shirts, mismatched boots, and toy helmets. Everyone except Liam, who stubbornly wore his usual outfit, and Dominic, inexplicably dressed head-to-toe in a Prince Charming costume.
