Chapter 14
Sinking into the worn leather couch, I ignore the hustle and bustle of the Holy Ground café and stare at the blank Word document on my laptop.
Keyword: blank.
What the hell am I supposed to write?
I have no idea. I don’t even know where to start.
“Damn it,” I mutter to myself. Why did I ever think creative writing would be a good class for me to take? An elective that was supposed to bolster up my class credits this year might end up being my undoing.
I stretch and take a deep breath before resting my hands on the keyboard. Maybe if I just start typing, something will happen.
With my fingers on the keys, I wait… But still, there’s nothing.
Why am I so bad at this? I’ve just been asked to write a ten-thousand-word fictional story of my choice. I could do whatever the hell I want, but why does that almost feel too big?
Do I even have a story to tell?
Will people even like it?
My chest tightens, and fear takes hold.
See. This is just proof. You can’t even write a simple story. What are you good at?
I try to push away the negative thoughts and think about all the things my therapist said back when I was home.
“Separate yourself from that voice. Breathe, ground yourself, and return to your work without judgment.”
It all makes perfect sense, but then why do I feel on the verge of tears just thinking about it?
I take a deep breath and pick up my phone, ready to look through the pictures Zach sent me last night to distract myself from all of those thoughts.
When the screen lights up, my stomach sinks.
I shouldn’t have looked. What a fucking moron I am sometimes.
Unknown: Did your boyfriend tell you about the team outing to The Rhinestone Rodeo last night? The guy’s pretty kinky.
Unknown: While you’re there, you might want to ask him about Hailey.
I don’t breathe. I just delete the messages.
Block, report, and pretend it didn’t happen, but it’s getting harder to do.
The messages are coming more often since Zach’s been away, and I can’t deny how much harder I’m finding it with him not here.
Without his reassurance, my mind spins and I start to think things that I know aren’t true.
Zach loves me. He’s not Jamie. He never will be… but then it hits. The thought that I felt the same way about Jamie until I found out the truth.
“No. You’re not doing this to yourself,” I whisper under my breath as I toss my phone onto the table.
Then I pick up my coffee cup and take a sip, letting the warmth seep into my palms and chest. Sadly, it doesn’t do a damn thing to stop the chill from crawling up my spine.
How much longer can I do this and pretend it doesn’t hurt? How many times can I change my number before I admit it doesn’t do a damn thing? Whoever’s doing this isn’t going to stop, no matter what I do.
“Oh, yeah. That’s definitely his girlfriend.”
I hear a conversation from behind me, and there’s something about the sharpness that tells me it’s about me.
“How long has the team been away now? A week?”
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
Another long, slow sip of my coffee.
I refuse to look or react.
“Yeah, did you see the videos of the team at The Rhinestone Rodeo?”
“Hilarious! That brunette looked like she was having the time of her life. Think Evans is cheating with her too?”
“Nah. Evans isn’t done with that sorority chick. Did you know she’s her best and only friend? They’ve been sneaking around behind her back for weeks.”
My grip tightens around the coffee cup, but I refuse to move because I know it’s a lie. Jenni and Zach? That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. Zach hates her.
But they’re saying it loud enough because they want me to hear it. They want me to question Zach’s loyalty as if I haven’t had to question that with every other man in my life.
“Oh my god. Did you see how messed up she was last week after she got back from giving him head?”
My breath catches and I hate the way it makes me wonder if I’m missing something. Are there videos online that prove Zach’s words are just that—words? Or is everyone really hell-bent on me never being happy?
I keep my head down and focus back on the blank screen. The very blank screen, which only makes my stomach buzz and burn with all those thoughts I was trying to push away.
“Sorry I’m late,” Chris says, sliding onto the couch beside me. “My last class ran over because my professor thinks he’s a stand-up comedian.”
I manage a smile, grateful to see a friendly face… one who’s not judging my every move. “No worries. I just got here too.”
Lie, but I don’t want to make him feel bad for leaving me on my own for twenty minutes. I should be allowed to be outside the confines of Zach’s house without being bothered by everyone.
He sets a drink on the table and nudges it toward me. “Got you a caramel latte. You mentioned it was your favorite last time, and I figured you needed a top-up.”
I keep my focus on the chocolate heart sprinkled on the top of the foam, centering myself. This is what I deserve. True friendship.
“Thank you,” I say, finally lifting my gaze to his—but I only hold it for a second, worried that he’ll see something I don’t want him to.
“Is everything okay?”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
The sharp buzz of my phone saves me from having to explain myself.
“Sorry,” I say as I reach for it. “I’m just going to turn the notifications off.”
“No problem.”
Zach: Just heading into practice then I’m going out for dinner with Jacob tonight. Are you around in between? I miss you so much, Honeycomb, I need to hear your voice.
I smile at the message, ready to agree, but another notification comes through.
Unknown: Zach’s cheating…. But that doesn’t stop you from having a little fun too, right? Everyone can see what you’re doing, jersey chaser.
“Who’s that from?” Chris asks from over my shoulder.
“Uh.” Before I can come up with an answer, loud laughter cuts through the café. At the table across from us, a brunette I vaguely recognize from my dorm, is making no effort to keep her voice down.
“…thinks she’s so special because she’s dating the quarterback. Now she’s fucking the hockey dude the second he’s out of town?”
Heat crawls up my neck, and the urge to defend myself is strong, but the fear over what that would look like overtakes me. What would I even say?
“Classic social climber,” another one adds. “I heard she did the same thing at her high school. Used some guy to get close to Evans, dumped him the minute Zach said ‘suck.’ Now she’s playing the same game.”
A third snorts. “What do you even call that? A jersey chaser with a side of puck bunny?”
“An opportunist.”
They all laugh, and the silence around the other tables doesn’t go unnoticed. Everyone would’ve heard it.
I stare down at my coffee like maybe I’ll find my dignity at the bottom of the cup, but all I see is the tremble of my hand as I lift it.
Chris’s gaze snaps up, his brow furrowing when he catches the stiff way I’m sitting. I’m hoping he’s only asking about the message on my phone and that he didn’t hear them.
I give him the smallest nod because my throat feels like sandpaper, and I don’t trust myself not to crack if I speak.
The girls don’t stop. They’re louder now.
“She’s probably just using Chris to make Evans jealous. Classic manipulative bitch move. Next she’ll get Zach drunk and convince him she’s pregnant. Bet it won’t even be his kid.”
Chris’s head whips toward them. “They’re talking about you.” It’s a simple statement, but I can hear the grit in his words.
Before I can stop him, he’s on his feet, striding straight to their table. He leans down and says something to them. It’s too low for me to hear, but whatever he said hits them hard. One girl flushes beet red, and another studies her nails in embarrassment.
He comes back to the table like nothing happened and gathers up his things. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. This place is toxic.”
I nod, gathering my things while my heart thuds in my chest. When I stand, I feel a little unstable until Chris takes my hand and guides me out. I want to pull away and walk out on my own because I know what this looks like—confirmation—but I can’t. I need the support.
Once the door shuts behind us, I pull my hand away and take a deep breath.
“Thank you,” I murmur, clutching my books. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did.” His voice is quiet, but absolute. “No one deserves to be spoken to like that.”
Our eyes connect, and I can’t face looking at him for too long. He’s right. I know it. Zach knows it. Everyone knows it, but what the hell am I supposed to do about it?
“How often does that happen, Honey?” His tone forces me to look up.
“Not often.”
He blows out a breath. “That’s a lie. The first day I met you someone was saying stuff to you.
” He raises his hand, gesturing to my bag.
“There are messages on your phone, and you just sat there while those girls talked shit about you like you were some kind of abused dog. You just took it like it was inevitable.”
“Because it is,” I admit quietly.
He forces out a sarcastic laugh. “You seriously believe that? So because you’re with a football player, you’ve just accepted that this is your life now? That it’s okay for people to talk to you like that.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Show them who you are.”
I swallow down what I want to say because I know how pathetic it sounds. How am I supposed to show them who I am when I don’t really know?
“I wish they were dudes because I’d fucking knock their lights out,” he says to fill the silence.
“Whatever you said to them landed like a blow,” I say, following him through the quad. “What did you say?”
He shrugs. “Nothing groundbreaking, just that their behavior was disappointing and reflected poorly on them, not you.” A small smile quirks at his lips.
“And that I’m super tight with Nick Caine, the hockey captain, who could make sure they're banned from all team parties for the rest of the season.”
I laugh despite myself. “You used the hockey team as leverage?”