Stevie
twenty-eight
THE UNIVERSITY PAPER has a gossip section.
Yeah, it’s not particularly dignified, but people love it.
It’s the only reason the paper even exists, in my opinion.
The gossip column is called ‘Allegedly,’ and it mostly deals with relationship rumors and juicy scandals without naming anyone but giving enough of a description that most people can totally figure out who’s being talked about.
I never, ever thought I would be in the gossip column of the university paper, but you should never say never. Because I am in it today. And my mind hasn’t stopped spinning since I saw it.
I’ve read the passage several times already, but my brain can’t quite make sense of it. I’m hoping it’s about someone else, but the details are all there. It’s about me and Hunter. It’s about our stupid sex contract. And it’s killing me.
Tears prick my eyes as I read the passage one more time:
O, Captain! My Captain! This studly hockey player and a blonde sophomore he’s been seen with a few times reportedly have a very, shall we say, adult arrangement.
When things get hot and heavy between them, it doesn’t just end in the big O for both of them – blondie also gets quite a hefty payment out of it. Nice gig if you can get it!
I. Want. To. DIE.
I rush home, skipping the rest of the day’s classes.
I avoid looking at anyone on campus as I all but sprint to my car in the student parking lot.
It’s most likely just paranoia but I feel like everyone is staring daggers at me.
I’m Hester Prynne with a giant A on my chest. Or maybe it’s a P, for prostitute.
Driving home in a daze and not even realizing how I get there, I walk into my apartment and beeline it to my room.
Like a dramatic Disney princess, I flop down face first on my bed and let the tears flow like a dam has burst.
How did they find out? How could they have possibly found out when it was strictly between me and Hunter?
Did he tell someone? Did he tell one of his stupid hockey friends and they told someone on the paper?
But I haven’t heard a single rumor or anything about me and Hunter.
Why does the first thing that gets out have to be the most humiliating thing possible?
I feel so sorry for myself.
I probably cry for a whole hour. Then I just lie there staring at my ceiling. Then, another hour later, the grief and self-pity are replaced by blinding rage.
I’m going to kill Hunter.
I really thought we had a bonding moment a week ago at his father’s wedding, but maybe I was wrong. And I blame myself too. Because I should have stood firm and had him end the contract. No, I should have never, ever, ever entered such a contract in the first place.
I’m such an idiot.
Maybe I deserve this.
My phone is on the nightstand beside my bed, face down.
I don’t want to look at it, or check any social media.
It’s been a couple of hours since the paper was published, so I’m sure plenty of people have seen it by now.
I can’t face it. I want to pretend it’s not in there, right smack in the middle of the gossip section in bold letters, because it’s one of the more interesting things they’ve printed in a long time.
People will gobble it up like candy.
I convince myself to get up and get a drink of water.
I lean against the kitchen counter after filling my cup, trying to pretend what’s happened is not a big deal.
I stand there in a daze, not even taking a single sip, until I hear Becca at the door.
She walks in, calling my name, but I don’t answer.
Stepping into the kitchen, she sees me and immediately comes to stand before me.
I must look insane, because she has the most worried expression on her face.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Did you see today’s gossip column in the paper?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Apparently some hockey player is paying some blonde girl to sleep with him. It’s all anyone can talk about. Hockey players are so crazy, I swear.”
I just stare at her.
She stares back.
Slowly, I nod.
She blinks.
Understanding dawns on her face like a car crash happening in slow motion.
“Wait.” She blinks again. “What?”
“Yep.”
“What do you mean ‘yep’? What the hell is going on? That blind is about you and Hunter?” She screeches that last question.
I wince.
“Stevie. Oh my god. Please tell me it’s not true.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
She takes a deep breath. “We need to sit down.”
We move to the couch and I don’t even understand how my legs are working. I feel a bit numb after crying for an hour. Becca sits me down and sits down next to me, her face still in lines of shock.
“I don’t understand,” she says.
I put my head in my hands. “It’s so stupid. It’s all my fault. I should’ve never agreed to it.”
“Agreed to what exactly?”
“A sex contract with Hunter.”
Becca recoils, clearly still not processing that any of it is true. Ugh, I don’t want her to look at me like that. I don’t want anyone to, but especially not her. Or, god forbid, my mother. I think I need to dig a deep hole and crawl inside it forever.
Becca takes my hands. “Can you please start at the beginning?”
I sigh and tell her the whole story, and as I give her all the details, her face gets more and more sympathetic. I look away, not deserving her sympathy. Not even wanting it.
“Do not feel bad for me.”
Her thumb rubs the back of my hand. “I know someone who works at the paper. I’ll beg them to print a retraction or—”
“Oh god, no, don’t do that. I need to just, I don’t know, wait for it to blow over, I guess. Maybe someone will do something even dumber or more scandalous than that. Becca, I’m so embarrassed.” My face crumples and I start crying again.
She hugs me, rubbing my back. “The good news is they did not name either of you. And the hockey players are always dating someone, so it could be about anyone. Most people are not going to figure out that it’s you and…
” She trails off, because she knows it’s not super convincing.
People are going to figure it out, and I’m going to be shamed off campus.
She hugs me tighter and I just let myself be comforted.
“Have you talked to Hunter about it?” she asks after a while.
I sniffle. “No.” I pull away and go to the kitchen to blow my nose and wipe my face with a paper towel. When I get back to the living room, Becca is seated cross legged and looks very determined.
“What are you thinking?” I ask her.
“That you’re kind of a badass.”
I cringe. “Badass?”
“Yeah. You’ve been boning a hot hockey player and getting paid. That’s baller.”
I stare at her for a second then burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”
“I’m sorry, but I bet so many girls would love to be in your shoes. I just wonder how it got out.”
I blow out an exasperated breath. “Hunter obviously blabbed about it to someone.”
Becca looks skeptical.
“You know how it is!” I insist. “Men love to brag in the locker room. They’re, like, huge gossips too. Even though women are always being accused of gossiping.”
“You’re not wrong. I just don’t see how this is anything to brag about for a guy? That he needs to pay women to sleep with him?”
I shrug, suddenly unsure myself, but how else would word have gotten out?
“You need to talk to him,” Becca says.
I nod and go to grab my phone from my bedroom.