Chapter 13
Thirteen
Wolf
Evidently, alcohol mixed with anger and lust was a Molotov cocktail.
One I’d lit on fire and watched explode, much to my surprise, right in front of her ex-boyfriend—which had evidently pissed her off.
Because as soon as we’d gotten back to the frat house, she’d gone to my room and slammed the door.
Three days later, and the only exchange we’d had was an awkward “Hi” earlier when Jade came out the front door dressed for work right as I came back from class. At the very least, I had my room to myself for the next few hours. My room that now smelled of Jade.
I dropped my backpack onto the floor at the end of my bed, and Dog brought over his ball.
I chucked it across the room, then took my phone from my pocket, checking the messages I’d silenced a few days ago.
I knew Bellamy would have told Zepp and the guys about my suspension, and I hadn’t wanted to deal with it.
The first message was from the coach, telling me I should take the next two weeks to pull up my grades. The rest were from the Dayton guy’s group chat.
ZEPP: WTF are you getting suspended from the team for, asshole?
HENDRIX: He’s already letting Weirdo work her Medusa juice all over him.
Medusa, because that was how Hendrix referred to any girl who had a guy pussy whipped.
HENDRIX: I know that’s why you punched that scrawny dickdribble.
HENDRIX: If I catch wind of you sinking your short stump of a dick in her hellhole, I’m stripping you of some pimp stripes.
HENDRIX: There’s already two pimps stripes gone from your pimp suit for even thinking about it.
BELLAMY: Like you can talk, fuckface, you ended up with the OG Medusa.
HENDRIX: You leave my used-to-be Medusa out of this.
HENDRIX: Serious, you Quasimodo-looking fuck, don’t screw up your life over Weirdo. She burned your ass.
That was the understatement of the goddamn century.
She had ruined me. Sent me on a downward spiral that had landed me in a relationship I had no business being in.
It wasn’t fair to Nora or me because I was with her for all the wrong reasons.
I’d just wanted to prove to myself I could love someone besides Jade.
And that kiss had done nothing but prove how wrong I had been.
It showed me how much I’d been drowning.
Her soft lips against mine felt like my head had finally broken water and I’d pulled in a lifesaving breath.
God, Hendrix was right. I needed my damn pimp stripes ripped off.
HENDRIX: Stop ignoring us, dickface. We’re worried.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I typed out:
It’s just a two-week suspension. Nice to have a vacation. Don’t worry about me.
Sent it, then silenced my phone. I didn’t want to read any more of their bullshit. To be honest, I didn’t even want to deal with my own bullshit.
Dog dropped his ball at my feet. I tossed it, and it ricocheted off the wall, straight under the bed. He wedged his chunky body beneath the mattress, pawing at the floor with a whine.
On a sigh, I rolled out of bed and dropped to my hands and knees.
“How the hell did you nudge it back that far?” When I reached for the ball, my hand brushed the crumpled Adidas box hidden beneath the bed.
The one I kept all of Jade’s notes in. I stared at that damned box for a solid ten seconds before I pulled it out.
I’d tried to throw it out countless times.
About a year ago, I’d even gone as far as tossing it into the trash, only to remove it an hour later.
That box was the equivalent of a casket that held mine and Jade’s relationship, but I could never quite bring myself to actually bury it.
When she went to stay with Brent for the summer, I’d sat and read through those little messages every day for a week.
And every time I did, that painful hole Jade had left in my heart grew and festered.
I’d promised myself I’d give her space, but after a bottle of whiskey—there was a theme here—I’d taken a picture of the open box, the little origami swan on the top.
Like a sniveling pussy, I’d texted it to Jade.
Maybe some part of me thought it would tug on her heartstrings enough to make her message me back, even realize that she didn’t want a break.
The text never delivered. Neither did the next one or the one after that.
That was when I’d realized she’d blocked me, and fuck did that hurt.
She was the last person I’d ever expected to cut me out of her life like I was some malignant cancer.
Everything I’d believed about her, about us, was nothing but a shitty lie.
It was when I realized that caring about someone didn’t matter because I couldn’t force Jade to love me the way I did her.
No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I wanted it.
Jade had been my everything, and I had evidently been nothing but a placeholder.
I crammed the box back under my bed, pushed to my feet, and went downstairs to try to fix what I could of my life.
I took my algebra book from my backpack on the way to the kitchen, dropping the heavy book onto the table before I put some leftover Roller Burger into the microwave. Dog sat at my feet, staring up at me while the microwave hummed.
“You aren’t getting any,” I said, just as the ding sounded.
I placed the plate beside my textbook and sat down. Dog pawed at my leg and let out a whimper.
“Stop being a scavenger,” I said, tossing him a fry anyway. I had a soft spot for the dickhead, which was probably why he was the worst behaved canine in the history of existence. He gobbled it up, then pawed again at my leg.
“Hey, Wolf.” Petey walked into the kitchen, Bellamy behind him. “That sunburn is turning into a nice tan.”
“Fuck off.” Saturday night, after downing an entire bottle of whiskey, I’d climbed onto the roof to be alone with my thoughts and passed out. By the time I’d woken up at one in the afternoon, I’d gotten my fair share of sun.
Bellamy stopped by the table, snatching a fry from my plate. “You okay?” He gave me a look that suggested he thought I wasn’t.
“I’m fine.”
“Missed a voice clip of Hendrix singing, ‘Wolf is a pussy-whipped bitch’ to the tune of the Oompa-Loompa song.” Because Hendrix had nothing better to do with his time.
I pointed at my textbook. “I don’t have time to listen to that dumbass sing his stupid jingles.”
He cracked a laugh. “We’re headed over to The Big Pickle to meet Rogue. Drew and some of the girls are going. One of them has massive jugs.” He whacked my shoulder. “Might cheer up your miserable ass.” Fuck him for realizing how miserable I was.
“Yeah,” Petey said. “We’re going for quiz night. You wanna come?”
“Fuck no.” Quiz night at some shitty bar—big-breasted women or not—was my idea of hell.
“Petey, you aren’t going for quiz night.” Bellamy half rolled his eyes. “There’s a wet T-shirt contest afterward.”
Not even the idea of girls in wet T-shirts made me want to go. “Put Petey in it,” I said, thumbing my pencil in his direction. “He’ll win. He has huge nipples.”
Bellamy laughed. Petey frowned while staring down at the pebbles poking through his shirt. “I’m sensitive about that, you dick.”
“How the hell are you sensitive? I thought gingers didn’t have souls?”
“Because I take the souls of others. One more comment about my nipples and I’ll put yours on the list.”
“You do that, and I’ll shave your eyebrows while you sleep.”
Bellamy snorted, thumbing at Petey. “He already looks like a naked mole rat. Don’t make it worse.”
“Doesn’t matter. I shaved my eyebrows two years ago for a hundred bucks. Got hit on twice as much. Turns out, women dig mysterious, eyebrow-less gingers.”
“The only mystery about you is whether your sour-cream colored ass will spontaneously combust in direct sunlight.”
Petey snatched his keys from the counter. “Come on. Let’s get out of here so we can get a seat by the stage.”
Dog followed them to the back door, huffing when it closed. I crammed a fry into my mouth and opened my textbook to the last lesson.
10 × 4 - 2 × (42 ÷ 4) ÷ 2 ÷ 1/2 + 9
- 10 ÷ (20 ÷ 22 × 5 ÷ 5) × 8 - 2
Fucking bullshit. I put pencil to paper. Every problem I worked out was wrong. Who in the hell decided to make math so complicated? I would never, in my life, use this shit. Even if I didn’t get drafted. I was majoring in school counseling. That sure as hell didn’t involve math like that.
An hour and a half later, I had worked through five problems. When I checked my work against the answer key in the back, they were all wrong.
I dropped my head back with a groan, sick at the thought that some stupid arithmetic would keep me out of the NFL. I was still staring at the crack on the ceiling when Dog let out a high-pitched bark. The back door creaked open.
“I swear to God,” Cassie moaned. “My ass cheeks have actual burns.”
“I keep telling you to get bigger shorts.”
I straightened in the chair, glancing at Jade in that erection-inducing Roller Burger uniform. Those uniforms served one purpose, and one purpose only—to bring in customers. I hated the thought of guys ogling Jade while she skated around with their food. And they would be.
Jade dropped to a crouch beside Dog, and my gaze ate up the length of her bare thighs. “Hi, Squishy. Did you miss me?”
Like hell was she trying to rename my dog. “His name’s Dog.”
She looked at me. “Dog is not a name.”
Jesus…“Dog is a name.” I pointed at the little traitor, ears down, wiggling from the excitement of Jade’s arrival. “It’s his name.”
Lifting a brow, she pushed to her feet. “I’ll start calling you Human then.”
“Not his name,” I mumbled, going back to my homework and erasing the last answer I’d written down.
Cabinets opened and shut. One of the girls banged a pot on the stovetop, then Cassie went into a tirade about Rogue. I couldn’t concentrate worth a shit. I grabbed my books and went into the dining room, mumbling about them being loud on my way.