“Who’s that?” Yasmin asked.
“Madison’s ex,” Jenn said quickly.
“He’s a Sig?”
“Yeah.” My voice was flat. I told myself that seeing him again didn’t bother me because I had expected it. He’d been home since January, and it was just dumb luck we’d competed in different events during the week.
I’d run into him once on campus, maybe a month ago. I’d been so caught by surprise, it had sent me running—like, legit running. I’d bolted from the quad, not stopping until there’d been no air left in my lungs and campus was far behind.
He’d wanted to see the world.
But what he hadn’t planned on was that he’d get so homesick. Ten days after he’d arrived in Germany, he was already considering coming home. I didn’t know what the right answer was. I selfishly wanted him back, but it was likely his homesickness would pass, and I didn’t want him to be filled with regret.
So, I told him to just give it a few more days. There was another girl at the international dorm who was struggling too, he’d told me the next night when we’d Zoomed. A nice girl from Georgia who reminded him of home. They became fast friends, and she was there when the time difference kept me out of reach, when I was in class or asleep.
Three and a half weeks was all it took.
He’d been gone less than a month before climbing into bed with someone else. He’d had the decency to confess it to me, his eyes brimming with tears and his voice full of shame as he asked for forgiveness.
“I love you,” he’d cried.
I retreated into myself, numb from the pain. “People in love don’t sleep with other people.”
I’d hung up, turned off my phone, and crawled into bed. I was a wreck, but the worst of it didn’t come until the following morning. When I turned my phone back on—there were no calls or messages from him.
He’d made no effort to try again or fight for us.
We hadn’t spoken since that day, which meant there’d been no closure, and that . . .
Fuck, it was devastating.
He didn’t look like he had a care in the world right now as he laughed with his frat brothers, all of them acting like they’d already won the cup. My insides bubbled with turmoil as I ripped my gaze away and shoved the sensation down. Jack was unconcerned I was here.
I could do the same.
“I thought we weren’t allowed to date Sigs,” came from Kayleigh, a freshman.
Tiffany let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t be silly. You can date whoever you want. I wouldn’t recommend the Sigs, though.” She turned to throw a pointed look my way, and her tone was patronizing. “Right, Madison?”
I got along with Tiffany all three years we’d been Lambda Theta Chi sisters, but we weren’t exactly what I’d call friends. I got the strange feeling she didn’t like me, although I had no idea why. As far as I knew, I’d never done anything to her, and chalked it up to our personalities just being too different.
She was all Type A and much too serious. It made her a good president of our sorority, though. She was super organized, direct, and great at shutting things down before stupid drama could develop, which invariably happened whenever a large group of people lived together.
It was clear she was waiting on a response from me about dating the Sigs.
“No.” I sighed. “I don’t recommend it either. There’s a reason they have the reputation they do.”
“That they’ll fuck anything that moves?” Kayleigh asked.
“Yeah.” I fought to keep the pain from my voice. “Because it’s true.”
The exchange seemed to satisfy Tiffany because she went back to her stretching.
“Lambda Theta Chi,” a voice boomed from a bullhorn, “and Sigma Phi Alpha, please move to your stations.”
I’d limbered up, but everything inside me went tight anyway. It was the moment of truth. I knew what leg of the race I was running, but I didn’t know who I’d be competing against.
Please don’t let it be Jack.
I wished good luck to the rest of my sisters and trudged toward the end of the course, avoiding the mud even though it would be inevitable. I had purposefully worn shoes and clothes I didn’t care about because the final dash I’d have to make was through the worst of the muddy field.
My heart climbed into my throat as the Sigs dispersed and Jack, along with a few of his brothers, began to head the same direction I was going. If I could put my emotions to the side, I might have been able to see how good this matchup could be. Jack had a terrible sense of balance.
But I couldn’t put my emotions away. They clouded my head and robbed me of my focus.
Every step he took toward the platform at the end of the course made my nerves jangle, and my breath went short—only to completely stop when he abruptly turned.