Chapter 34 #2
Wynter clears her throat. “The dean—”
“This is how I do it.”
“Do what?” Callan demands.
I lean forward. “Show my dad that I’m not made for sports management.”
“What are you made for?” Wynter inquires, toying with her phone.
“PR.”
Callan’s brows lift. “When did you decide on that?”
“Just now.”
He rolls his eyes. “Glad to know you’ve really thought this through.”
“Hey, I perform well under pressure.”
“Yeah, yeah. So, what’s the game plan?”
I toy with the corner of the textbook I was studying before this whole thing went down. “You’ll help me?”
“Of course!”
The instantaneous response lifts a weight off my shoulders I didn’t know was breaking my back.
Wynter offers, “I’ll help too, but I’m kinda… well—”
“Boring?” Callan pats her hand too. “Don’t worry, we can’t all be evil geniuses.”
“Reassuring.”
“Infinitely.”
My lips twist at their byplay, but the short convo gives me the courage to swipe at the tear tracks drying on my cheeks.
I got this.
I can make Dyers regret the day he was born.
I’ve done it so many times to Pecan and Zach—I’m a pro!
My cell buzzes and a jolt of fear rushes through me.
Okay, so my confidence is shaky. But this is a game plan that’s minutes in the making. I can do this. YOU GOT THIS, DENVER PARILLA.
Spying the unknown number on my screen, I’m tempted to ignore it, but my obstinate ass refuses to cower so I read it and am rewarded with another truth.
Everyone on campus isn’t a jerk. Just the usual mean girls and the dumb boys who think ruining people’s lives is a fun time.
Wynter came to my table in the midst of a crisis. Callan’s got my back. Pecan and Zach were never in doubt, but with Wynter and Callan, that’s two extra folks in my corner—and here’s a third.
“What is it?” Callan asks warily.
“Lex.”
He fiddles with his watch. Which is impressive considering he uses his pen to do the toying. “Huh?”
I turn my phone to face him.
(Unknown Number): Hey, it’s Lex from Dopie’s.
I know we don’t hang out much and I scored your cell number from Pecan’s girlfriend, but I’m pretty sure that douche Dyers is behind that dumb-as-shit picture floating around—I heard him crowing about a joke he was concocting over breakfast with some of those more-idiotic-than-flat-earthers frat brothers of his.
(Unknown Number): I’m sorry that he’s such a vaginal douche
“Seems you were right to crush on her. She’s kind.” I peer over his head and see her watching me with concern. I wave at her and mouth, “Thanks.”
When Callan blushes with pride as he reads her text, I hide a smile. Hell knows why I’m smiling when I’m about to become ‘pig girl’ on campus, but…
“Vaginal douche,” he repeats with a happy sigh.
“Vaginal douche? Have you ever had one of those before?” Wynter shudders. “So fitting for someone like Dyers.”
“That may be my new favorite insult,” Callan declares. “You watch me call my nemesis back home that.”
“People don’t have nemeses anymore.”
“Sure they do, if they’re interesting enough, Denny. Can I help it that everyone’s bland in today’s world?”
“I bet Lex isn’t bland.”
“I bet so too. Sweeter than cherry pie.”
I snicker when his lips part, then twist into a dopey grin as he stares blankly out the window beside us. Which is where I see Zach. Looking harried and pissed off.
Oooh, boy.
Dyers has no idea the hornet’s nest he just kicked.
And I can’t wait until I get to watch him be stung.
When Zach stomps inside, it earns a glower and a hiss of ‘QUIET’ from the front desk, which he ignores. His gaze darts about the room. The second he catches sight of me, I’m glad I could witness it.
A softness overtakes his features. It’s love. Pure and simple. It’s pain. It’s need. It’s want. It all coalesces into one before twisting into outrage. Again, sweeter than taffy. It does a great job of settling my mortification, of amplifying this belief I have that I can make this right.
That I can turn this to my advantage.
I startle as he kneels beside me, striding so quickly from one end of the library to our table that Callan also jumps in surprise when he’s suddenly there.
“Jesus Christ, Zach. Warn a man.”
“I’ll kill him.”
I cup his chin. “No, you won’t.”
“I was thinking of doxxing him,” Callan blusters. “It comes with less federal prison time and as attractive as I’m sure the ladies find you, Zach, I doubt orange is your color.”
“I agree. His Bantam jersey was orange. It’s the first time in forever that he didn’t have scores of bunnies hovering around him. Plus… I don’t want to be visiting my boyfriend in federal lockup!” I grouch, but I shoot him a quivering smile when he turns his face into my hand. “It’ll be fine.”
I’ll make sure of it.
“No. It won’t,” he snaps. “Coach’s back after shitting through the eye of a needle for a week and he’s decided we’re wrong about Dyers being a cokehead. The asshole will be playing tonight.”
I gape at him. “You literally saw him doing drugs!”
Leaning into us, Callan murmurs, “You ever heard of BDSec?”
“Now isn’t the time to talk about a sex club, Callan.”
“Zach, my man. Read up on your friendly neighborhood porn menu. I said BDSec, not BDSM. It’s a white-hat collective!” A gleam appears in his eyes. “I’ve long suspected it’s run by women. Just imagine if they got ahold of old Derek’s details. I tell you, the chaos would be delicious.”
A creaking noise sounds from the table behind us. Maybe it’s because I’m on edge that I hear it.
When I shift around, I blink when I see it’s my unlikely saviors…
Shay coughs. “I hope you don’t think we’re eavesdropping—”
“We totally were,” Victoria butts in. “I’m sorry about the picture.”
“Not like you helped him do it.” I grit my teeth. “Or did you? I don’t even know anymore.”
“We definitely didn’t. But we know someone better than BDSec.”
“You’ve heard of them,” Callan chimes in, perking up.
“Yes, we have. Honestly, who we know… much better.”
“Why would you help me?” I stare at the table, not wanting to look at the pity in their expressions. “You don’t know me. You know Alec. I figured…”
“Just because we associate with certain people doesn’t mean we don’t also think they’re vaginal douches.”
“Wow, you two really were eavesdropping!” Callan mumbles.
Victoria waggles her pen from side to side. “You were pretty loud.”
“Sorry. We didn’t mean to disturb—”
“That wasn’t a complaint. More a justification for how much of your conversation we overheard,” she explains. “Men like Dyers never know when to stop. Until it’s too late.”
Shay’s mouth turns into a sneer. “He’s the pig, Denver.”
Zach grunts. “This is neat and all, but how are we going to make the fucker pay?”
“Your friends are right. You’re far too pretty for federal lockup,” Victoria says smoothly.
“Plus, you don’t want him to suffer worse than the people he’s hurt.
If anything, it would be far more fun if he were the one wearing federal lockup orange with all those hopes of playing in the NHL burned and faded just like his whole life, no? ”
Zach sniffs. “Okay, that does sound good.” When I squeeze his fingers, he continues, “No one touches you. No one.”
Those words, growled, oooh, holy fajitas and the lords of Taco Tuesday.
Victoria catches my eye and a hand, complete with a whopper of an engagement ring, fans in front of her face.
This isn’t the time for a surge in hormones, but that she gets it, too, has me sharing a goofy smile with her.
All this is unbeknownst to Zach, of course, who’s deep in discussion with Shay and Callan.
The group’s support doesn’t make it any easier to head out of the library five minutes later.
It feels as if everyone’s looking at me.
In fact, no, it doesn’t feel like it. Everyone is looking at me. Most are snickering. Some are gleeful. Others pull faces as if they feel my mortification and are sorry for it/grateful they’re not the ones being targeted.
But with Zach at my side, Callan, Wynter, Victoria, and Shay too—hell, even Pecan and Hailey show up, running toward us as we breach the entrance—and Lex joining us as well, I realize that from this mess, there’s something sweet to be uncovered…
I’ve found my people.