Chapter 11
GAbrIEL
I CAN’T STOP THINKING about Scarlett and how she slammed me against the wall.
All I can see is the look in her eyes when she grabbed my wrist and spun me around.
I thought I could intimidate her or at least get some reaction, but she turned it around on me before I could blink.
One second I was leaning over her, and the next, my back was against the wall and her hand was on my throat.
When I felt her fingers pressing against my skin, something jolted through me. Heat spread from her touch all the way down to my gut, and my pulse jumped under her hand in a way I couldn’t control.
I wanted her to kiss me.
I wanted her to press her lips against mine.
For a second, she was going to close the distance, and I was totally ready for it.
But then she let go and stepped back, and the moment was gone.
I’ve never felt anything like it before. Not with anyone.
I roll over and grab my phone off the nightstand. No new messages. Not that I expected any.
But I have bigger problems than Scarlett right now.
I cross to my desk, where the packet lies. The small, clear bags are filled with white powder and pills, neatly organized and ready to be sold. The sight of them makes my stomach turn, but I can’t afford to think about that right now.
I’m not playing this week because everyone’s mad at me. The team hates me, Coach doesn’t trust me, and I don’t know how to fix it, which means I have to sell. I have to make up for the games I’m missing, and I have to prove I’m still useful.
I grab the packet and shove it into my jacket pocket, then head out.
THE PARTY IS AT SOME off-campus house I’ve never been to before. It’s one of those places that’s falling apart but still gets full every weekend because the guy who lives here doesn’t care what happens to it.
I slip through the crowd, keeping my head down and my hands in my pockets. People are everywhere, drinking and shouting over the noise.
There are whispers as I pass. I can hear my name mixed in with the noise and see people glancing at me before quickly looking away when I meet their eyes.
They know.
Everyone knows what I did to Zyair. The recording spread fast, and now the whole campus thinks I’m a liar and a manipulator who threw his own teammate under the bus.
And I am.
But I’m not here to socialize. I’m here to work.
I find a group near the back patio. I’ve sold to those guys before. They’re loud and drunk, laughing about something I don’t care about. One of them sees me and nods, and I pull him aside into a quieter corner.
“You got it?” he asks, his words slurred.
“Yeah.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out one of the bags. He hands me some cash, and I shove the crumpled bills into my other pocket without counting them. Then he disappears back into the crowd.
I move on to the next group. A girl I recognize from one of my classes. She’s with her friends, and when she sees me, she breaks away and meets me by the hallway.
She’s quieter than the last guy and more careful. She glances around to make sure no one’s watching before she hands over the money and takes the bag. She doesn’t say anything, just nods and leaves.
I’m halfway through my stash when I realize someone’s watching me. I glance around the room, scanning the faces in the crowd. But I don’t see anyone paying attention to me, just drunk college students dancing and laughing.
Still, the feeling doesn’t go away.
I move to a different part of the house, trying to shake off the feeling. As I weave through the crowd, the sensation follows me.
I make another sale near the kitchen. A guy I don’t recognize hands me the cash and takes two bags. Then another by the stairs. A girl who looks too young to be here but who knows exactly what she wants.
The packet in my pocket is getting lighter, and I’m almost done.
But the feeling of being watched still doesn’t leave me.
I step outside onto the front porch. The night is cold, and the street is quiet compared to the chaos inside. Leaning against the railing, I pull out my phone and check the time.
It’s almost midnight. I need to finish up and get out of here.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Ten minutes.
There’s a location pinned.
My chest tightens, and I look up and scan the street. There’s no one there, just parked cars and empty sidewalks.
Ten minutes. That’s barely enough time to get where I’m supposed to.
I shove my phone into my pocket, moving quickly. I don’t know what this is about, but I know I can’t be late.
I stride down the street, keeping my head down. The party noise fades behind me, and the street gets quieter with every step I take.
I break into a run.
My feet pound against the pavement, and my breath comes out fast and hard. I turn a corner and keep running, my heart racing and my mind spinning. The meeting spot is on the other side of campus, and I’m already cutting it close.
I need to get there ASAP.