“We’re not going to that party.”
She yelps, turning around and wiping the suds from her eyes. “Crap. I was actually relaxing. In a public shower…but still.” She adjusts the nozzle so the water hits her back, not whatsoever ashamed of her naked body.
Again, for a brief and out of context moment, I’m envious of her confidence in herself.
“Something’s not right about this party, Vee,” I say, moving to stand near the tiled wall, gaining balance. I skipped too many meals and didn’t drink enough protein shakes. The workout on the treadmill and the blood rushing to my head with my anger is making me dizzy.
“Dude, it’s a party. Planned by the football team.” She widens her eyes at me. “I’m sure there’s all kinds of wrong with it. But that’s the fun part.” She winks, then turns back around to stand under the spray.
The Bobcats could request that the boosters come dressed as prostitutes, and Vee probably wouldn’t bat an eye. I’m not going to convince her not to go. She’s been biding her time, doing menial things in the boosters, waiting for her opportune moment to get close to Gavin.
I need something more.
But then…am I really looking out for her, or finally finding an excuse not to be near Ryder? What’s the worst this party could throw at us? I mean, other than literally throwing me in a body of water again.
Ryder having some kind of bet doesn’t affect Vee. That’s him being an asshole, not Gavin. This is about me, and my fears, not hers. I’m being selfish. If I have an issue, I should handle it, and keep my focus on making Vee happy.
With that decided, I head back through the gym, ignoring the glances from the booster girls—even though I so badly want to demand they tell me what they know. And why they know. How they got their insider info and why I
know nothing about it. But I keep moving until the fall air engulfs me, sending a shiver through my body. Trying to ignore the creeping paranoia.
I breathe in the crispness, the faint scent of wood and leaves, and keep walking. I only stop when I’m right in front of a vending machine, sliding in my credit card, and hitting the letter and number combo for the most fattening item behind the glass.
When I sink my teeth into the giant chocolate chip cookie, an explosion of taste assaults my senses. I close my eyes and moan, savoring the sweet chocolate. My stomach feels nauseas after the first few bites, like I’m stretching it as I hurriedly eat, but I ignore the piercing pain. I’ve felt it a million times before; it will go away.
Right now, I just want to enjoy the indulgence. I’ll deal with the guilt later.
Last bite, then I’m quickly chewing and digging out my phone before the haze of food and sugar can cloud my mind. I send a text.
Me: Anything you forgot to tell me? About the party…or the bet?
Standing there, staring at the screen, I realize what time it is. Ryder’s probably at practice. The fact that I’m sort of tracking his schedule and away games, makes me feel more ill than the damn cookie I just inhaled.
I shove my phone into my pack and hike it over my shoulder. Not waiting to see if he replies. Actually, I wish I could take back the text I just hastily sent. I didn’t even think it through. I should’ve never let on that I knew anything.
The ball always needs to stay in your court. My father always says keep the advantage. But maybe I can still save some dignity.
Feeling thoroughly disgusted, I wipe the cold sweat from my forehead and start for the dormitory. Saliva is already coating my mouth, thickening in my throat. I crave just one second where the stress melds away after the purge. I hate myself for knowing so well what that feels like. Only I can’t stop the desire to feel it.
The emotions continue to wage a battle inside me as I push through the bathroom door.
18
Ryder
Hand clamped around my phone, I stare at the message. My eyebrows pushed together. My jaw clenched. The fuck?
After the phone conversation with my brother, I wasn’t feeling practice. I headed straight to the locker room with a plan to change out before any of the guys got here, but I’m regretting that decision as the bangs and shouts surround me, and as I continue to stare at my phone. Like Ari will send another message, saying the last one was some kind of joke.
“Brah,” Gavin says, sidling up beside me. “Staring at it won’t will her into existence.”
I blink. Look at him. “What?” I seriously have to wonder about his brain capacity sometimes. The shit that comes out of his mouth.
“That chick still has you on frustrate, man.” He nods to the phone. “But that’s okay. I fixed things for this weekend. You’ll love the surprise.” He laughs.
A wave of alarm crashes over me. I snag his shoulder, stopping his retreat. “What did you do?”
He shakes me off. “Relax. Trust me. You’ll enjoy this shit.”