Chapter 20 #3
Severen: She’s so going to murder you dude. It’s all over campus and social media. You’re only lucky you can’t see her room number and your name is muffled enough to cast reasonable doubt.
Severen: I’ll write your eulogy, but I'm making Rogue deliver it. He could speak publicly while naked without blinking, but you know words aren’t his strong suit.
Severen: Also, I am very traumatized from hearing you have sex. I didn’t even think you were capable of making a sound like that.
Rogue: Duuuude!!! That sounds hot as fuck. I’d pay premium to watch that
Rogue: But I will absolutely deliver your eulogy naked. I’ll need to blink though
Severen: My guy, that wasn’t a suggestion. This is why I said words aren’t your strong suit.
Severen: You know what? Never mind. Do it naked.
Rogue: Fuck yeah
Rogue: Thoughts and prayers though, brother
Rogue: Especially when Coach finds out
Tightening my lips into a firm line, I heave out a heavy breath through my nose and click out of the chat, though the two continue to blow my shit up with nonsense.
Severen’s right, however.
Reverie is definitely going to kill me—but only if Coach doesn’t kill me first.
I have a shit ton of messages—several from my manager, Jonah, and my publicist, Carrie, four reporters from different outlets asking for a statement, my teammates, some from unsaved numbers…
Fucking fuck.
I close out of the messages before I lose my goddamn mind and wipe my hand down my face roughly with a groan, trying to decide which one of them to deal with first. This is going to be a big hit to my reputation.
It’s definitely all over social media, and if fucking CVN doesn’t have an article written already, it’s because every single journalist miraculously died.
I speed walk to my car and slide in. Then, I start the engine and turn up the hot air to defrost my windows. Once I'm settled, I unlock my phone to make my first call.
And fuck me, if my screen saver of licking Rev’s tear isn’t an omen, I don’t know what is.
I pull up Coach’s number first and hit call. He already left for the night, and I don't know if I'd have the balls to deliver the news to his face, anyway.
He answers before the first ring completes. “I was just about to call you, asshole. You better have a goddamn good fucking explanation for why the fuck you have a fucking sex tape circulating online, you fucking idiot.”
Yeah, he’s pissed.
“I wouldn’t call it a sex tape,” I mutter. “No one can see us.”
“What the fuck are you doing in the video, Kellan?” he barks.
I tighten my lips, preferring not to answer that.
“Well?”
I sigh. “Having sex.”
“So then it’s a goddamn sex tape!” he bellows. I wince, holding the phone an inch away from my ear before he blows it out.
“I’ll deny it’s me,” I quickly placate. “I mean, I’m sure there’s another fucking student here with the same name.”
“You’re goddamn right you’re going to deny it. You’re so fucking lucky the video doesn’t show the door number to identify who the girl is.” He pauses for a beat, and then his voice drops as he asks, “Do I need to know who it is?”
Coach knows all about my past and, therefore, Reverie.
He’s reamed me out until he went purple in the face more times than I can count for fucking with her, usually because she complained to the dean or a witness posted about one of my pranks online.
My management team has scrubbed the internet of shit like that a few times now.
However, this time is going to be a little harder.
“Probably,” I mutter.
“Please tell me it’s not someone different from who you posted on that fucking Gram app.”
“It’s called—never mind. No, it’s not someone different,” I answer.
We haven’t exactly talked about the picture.
As long as it doesn’t cause problems, he doesn’t give a fuck what I do.
I wasn’t even sure if he was aware of it, but I suppose, with the video out and speculations arising, my post was bound to get roped in.
Especially because if I fucked anyone else but the girl in that picture and people found out, my rep would go up in flames.
It’s a damn good thing my dick isn’t interested in anyone else.
“So Reverie,” he says. It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
“God fucking dammit, Kel. People aren’t going to just let this go. Her father was just released from prison, and you deciding to let the world know you’re fucking her is one thing, but showing the world you’re fucking her is another!”
“Yeah. Yup. I know that,” I snap, growing irritated. I rest my elbow on the door and use my forefinger and thumb to rub my eyes.
He mutters a string of insults beneath his breath while I pinch the bridge of my nose, attempting to combat the headache building in my skull.
With a sigh, I drop my hand and look up, only to find someone standing directly in front of my car with a fucking camera, snapping pictures.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I hiss, instantly clicking my seat belt on before I do something even more stupid, like get out and knock the fucker’s teeth in. “I got paparazzi in front of my car, Coach. I gotta go. I’ll talk to Jonah and put out a statement soon, I promise.”
I put the car in reverse and quickly pull out of the parking spot, switching to drive. Time to tackle Rev next.
“Yeah, don’t fucking mind me. Once you figure out what the fuck you’re going to say, I’ll be on calls all fucking day tomorrow with the board doing damage control so you’re not disqualified from the next fucking Olympics.” Then, he grumbles, “Fucking dickhole.”
“Thank you. I’m sor—”
“Get off my fucking phone, Kellan.”
Don’t gotta tell me fucking twice. I hang up, only for a call from Carrie to pop up next.
I groan and spend the rest of the drive to Reverie’s dorm talking it out with her and putting together a statement.
Basically, we got very lucky there are no identifiers in the video.
No room number, nothing to prove the girl was even recording in her own room.
The video starts and ends with the phone angled toward Rev’s door, and luckily, the buildings are all identical, so there’s no way to distinguish Rev’s from someone else’s down the hall.
If the chick had recorded any part of her room, where it might’ve showed her bedding or a decoration on the wall, maybe I could’ve denied it was me fucking her, but it would be impossible for Reverie to deny any involvement.
And I'd rather die than let the world believe anyone else was fucking her.
At this point, it’s my word against hers.
Whoever she is, which I intend to find out.
Except, the second I round the corner into the hallway toward Rev's dorm, I find her standing outside it, her arms crossed defensively while two girls talk to her.
My heart instantly kicks up a notch, and I’m halfway down the hall when the three notice me.
However, Rev refuses to look at me. A mid-sized bag hangs from her shoulder, which seems to be packed with clothes. I’m guessing she was on her way out when she ran into the girls, and I’d bet the little brat wasn’t on her way to my dorm.
The girls watch me approach with wide eyes, though their stares consistently dart around, as if I’m the sun and they can only stand to look at me in small increments.
One of them has pin-straight black hair flowing down to her plump waist and pale blue eyes with whatever black shit girls put on the bottom of their lashes.
The other has thin, curly orange hair piled in a messy bun, a nose slightly too large for her pale face, and is wearing an oversized T-shirt with no pants.
I stop before them, and a tense, awkward silence settles over the four of us. The two girls shift on their feet while Rev stares at them expectantly, arms crossed, silent.
I just watch them, my face set in stone.
“Uh, hi?” the orange-haired girl says finally, though it comes out more like a question than a greeting.
I arch a brow. “Hi.”
A bright red flush blooms at the base of her throat and slowly crawls up toward her cheeks. More silence, until the black-haired girl clears her throat after a few more stilted beats.
“Meet my neighbor, Kaitlin, and her friend Hannah.” Reverie’s voice is tight and rife with annoyance as she waves a hand toward the orange-haired girl and then the black-haired one, respectively.
“Reverie was, uh, just asking to see something,” Kaitlin explains.
I feign intrigue. “See what?”
She backs up toward the door and grabs the handle—directly across the hall from Rev’s.
“Reverie can show you,” she says quickly. “It’s easy to find.”
I hum and nod at her door. “This your room?”
She glances at her friend, her throat bobbing. “Yes, why?”
I shrug casually. “Just making sure you’re easy to find for when my lawyer has questions.” My grin is as warm as if I’m made of solid ice and a sculptor carved it into my face.
Both of their faces fall, terror sparking in their gazes as they look at one another again.
“W-we didn't do anything,” Hannah says, attempting to chuckle, but it falls flat.
“I sure hope not,” I say, my smile widening. “Posting videos of people fucking without their consent is classified as revenge porn.”
“Okay, well, it wasn't us,” Kaitlin snaps defensively, repeatedly glancing at Hannah with absolute terror. Her entire face is flushed, and Hannah's isn't any less red.
They don’t know real terror yet.
It's pretty fucking obvious one of them posted the video anonymously, and I will ensure they understand the repercussions of not only recording and posting that video, but opening their mouths to a single soul should they dare confirm our identities.
“Great,” I say, my tone overly chipper. “Then you won't have anything to worry about when they track the IP address it was posted from.”
I've never seen faces bleach of all color in such a short amount of time, but I've also never been recorded fucking someone, so today is a day of firsts, it would appear.
Kaitlin squeaks out a, “We won’t,” before they both scurry inside her room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind them.
The ensuing silence is heavy while Reverie stares at their closed door. I want to know what she's thinking, but her energy is a flame held over gasoline.
She’s a ticking time bomb, and I truly am too tired to deal with an explosion.
It’s been a long fucking day.
“Let’s go,” I urge quietly.
Silently, she turns and walks past me. Her energy has exceeded hellfire and reached the tundra, where her fury is ice cold.
I grind my molars and trail after her. I’m not exactly looking forward to an ice cube in my bed, but I’d take her cold than not at all.