For the first time since Alyssa returned to Wesley, I wonder if it’s possible to break through the impenetrable walls she’s erected. Doubt trickles in before I stomp it out.
“Here’s the thing—you had me. I was all yours.” Pain flickers across her face before it’s once again masked behind a frosty exterior. “But you threw me away because you wanted to fuck your way through this campus.”
No. That’s not true.
“You need to move on and allow me to do the same. Just because you have regrets doesn’t mean that I do. Or maybe this is all a game.” She pops a shoulder. “Either way, I don’t care.”
Does she really think I’m capable of that kind of heartlessness?
That I could mastermind some kind of manipulative game to draw her in again before kicking her loose? Even though I can’t necessarily blame her for being suspicious, her low opinion makes me gut sick.
When I remain silent, at a loss as to how to reach her, a pleading look enters her eyes, and for the first time, I truly wonder if there’s any hope for us. Alyssa doesn’t understand why I pushed her away. She believes the bullshit I spoon-fed her. What I need to do is tell her the truth. It had absolutely nothing to do with other girls and everything to do with the intensity of my feelings for her.
I open my mouth, ready to lay it all on the line. I don’t give a damn if we’re on the edge of campus, and there are a ton of people rushing past us on their way to class. I don’t care about the curious stares we’re collecting from onlookers. Our gazes stay fused together as everything around me falls away.
“Colton!”
The high-pitched voice has the moment disintegrating as I’m jolted back to reality. Alyssa blinks to awareness before taking a hasty step in retreat and flicking an uninterested glance at the girl waving frantically and calling my name.
“Seems like your fan club found you. Take a good look. That’s what you dumped me for.” With that, she walks away.
And there’s not a damned thing I can do to detain her as I’m swarmed by a handful of girls.
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alyssa
Hands down, this has been the week from hell.
All right, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.
My courses are going well. Most of them are dance which makes the day pass by quickly. And I was able to secure my old job at a small studio in town, teaching a few classes to four and five-year-olds. They’re squirrelly and have way too much energy, but they’re adorable as hell and make me laugh. And I need the cash. Unlike Mia, my parents don’t have a fat portfolio filled with stocks and bonds.
So...if everything is going just fine, why am I not able to shake the feelings of irritability and discontent? It’s almost as if something is brewing inside me, and I have no clue what it is. And that makes me nervous.
Jack has called a handful of times since my return, but our relationship no longer feels the same. It’s almost as if I was able to blot out everything when I was away, and now that I’ve returned to Wesley, that’s no longer possible. It only adds to my growing confusion.
What I will say is that it’s nice to be back with Mia. I really did miss my girl. And dancing again for Monsieur Dupre has been amazing. I didn’t realize how much I’ve learned and grown while studying in London. But he’s taken notice. And that means everything to me.
My brain continues to spin as I yank open the building door and walk through the lobby. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I take the stairwell. As soon as I arrive at the third-floor landing and push through the metal door, the sound of music assaults me. My jaw unconsciously locks as I tighten my hands. The trimmed nails bite into my flesh, leaving little crescent-shaped imprints on each palm. Even though I’m at the far end of the hallway, I can already guess where the booming bass is originating from.
Colton and Beck’s apartment.
In less than two seconds flat, the annoyance festering beneath the surface becomes full-blown anger.
The music grows in decibel with every step I take. By the time I shove the key in the lock, I’m ready to explode. With a slam of the door, I stalk into the living room. Mia is at the small dining room table with her laptop and earbuds. My guess is that they have to be noise-canceling, otherwise there is no way she could work through this racket. I shoot an irritated glance toward the thin wall we share with our neighbors. For a handful of seconds, I consider contacting the building manager to complain before reluctantly deciding against it.