Chapter 16
Warm, wet dog kisses greet me as I blink awake in Hayes’s bed. My eyes crack open to narrow slits, the dim light of early morning bleeding in around the edges of blackout curtains. Argyros hovers above me, his rough tongue swiping across my forehead and cheeks like he’s checking for injuries.
“Morning, boy.” I gently nudge him aside, wiping slobber off my face with the back of my hand.
I slowly peel back the covers and glance around. The makeshift bed Hayes used last night—a pile of pillows and spare blankets on the floor—is empty. Miraculously, my missing phone sits on the nightstand beside me. Hayes must’ve found it.
Of course he did.
I tap the screen and scroll the text log. The last outgoing message is to my mom, sent sometime after midnight, letting her know I was safe and staying over so she wouldn’t worry.
Hayes again.
Of course he thought of that, too.
The time glows 7:02 a.m. Too early for him to be gone already, even for Sunday practice. Which means he’s still here, somewhere in the apartment.
I try to sit up, which is a mistake. A spike of pain drills through my skull, sharp and punishing, as the hangover hits full force. And with it, the memories of last night come rushing back in a brutal, unrelenting wave.
Flirting with Dylan.
Too many shots.
Laughing.
Kissing.
Pretending it was harmless fun, until it wasn’t. Until his hands turned rough and my “no” wasn’t enough.
My stomach pitches violently, my hands shaking with fury as the image of him on top of me snaps into focus. Pinning me down. Stealing my breath. Freezing me in place so completely I couldn’t move. If Hayes hadn’t shown up when he did… I don’t know what would have happened.
My God.
What was I thinking? I never should’ve kissed that asshole in the first place.
Not that I blame myself for what happened.
I know it wasn’t my fault. Still, the regret burns under my skin like acid. Not because of what I did, but because I knew better.
How did I let myself be alone with someone like that? It’s not as if Dylan’s reputation was a secret. Everyone on campus knew what kind of guy he was. Even someone like me, who usually stayed oblivious to that kind of thing.
Watching Hayes pull away, thinking I was losing him, made me reckless.
Desperate. I lashed out in the only way I knew how in the moment.
I let myself use Dylan to feel wanted, because some fractured, impulsive part of me figured that if Hayes was going to act like I didn’t matter, I’d prove someone else thought I did.
How could I have been so foolish?
My bare feet sink into the soft carpet as I slide out of bed, doing my best to ignore the blistering ache behind my eyes. I need to find Hayes and talk to him.
I’m still so confused. Everything between us feels unresolved, tangled. He ignores me for days, makes me believe he’s pulled away, outgrown our friendship, outgrown me. And then he shows up like last night, out of nowhere, ready to burn the world down for me.
He saved me.
That has to mean something. Right?
Argyros trails faithfully at my side as I step out of Hayes’s bedroom and trudge into the kitchen.
Sunlight spills through the windows in sharp, golden slants, catching on sleek countertops and gleaming stainless-steel appliances that look like they’ve never been used.
The whole space feels more like a luxury condo than a college apartment—minimalist, spotless, and expensive in a quiet, understated way.
Hayes stands at the fridge, shirtless, the morning light tracing the lines of his back and shoulders like a sculpture come to life. His pajama pants ride low on his hips, hinting at the cut of smooth muscle that disappears beneath the waistband.
I know I should say something, but I can’t stop staring.
God, he’s beautiful.
I hover at the edge of the kitchen, just inside the wide archway. My mouth opens, then closes—useless. Whatever I meant to say evaporates, my thoughts dissolving into static. Every nerve ending buzzes as I watch him.
He turns, catching me mid-stare.
“Going somewhere, Alligator?”
“No,” I blurt, too fast, the back of my neck burning. “Just… looking for you.”
“I was on my way back to the bedroom.” He shuts the fridge with a casual bump of his hip, then crosses the room barefoot, holding two bottles of water. “Thought you might be thirsty,” he says, offering one to me.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it, the bottle cool against my skin.
He walks toward the kitchen island, sliding onto one of the barstools and gesturing to the empty space beside him. “Sit,” he says, patting the seat.
I take a deep breath and slide in next to him, bracing for the conversation I know is coming.
Argyros pads over immediately, like he senses the tension in the air, and settles between us.
He circles once before curling into a tight ball beneath my chair, pressing his warm nose against my ankles and letting out a soft huff.
I gather my nerve.
“So about last night—”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“I know.” I lift my chin. “But I want to.”
His eyes sharpen, searching my face with that quiet, careful intensity that always makes it hard to breathe. It’s like he can see right into me—every thought, every crack.
“Just tell me, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His voice hardens, steel threading through it. “Because if he hurt you…” He pauses, something dark and dangerous flickering in his eyes. “I swear to God, I’ll kill that piece of shit—”
“I said I’m fine!”
The words come out sharper than I intend. Hayes flinches, just barely, but I catch it. That quick flicker of hurt before he schools his expression back into calm.
“I’m sorry,” I say, taking a careful sip of water to steady myself.
I don’t know where the sudden anger came from. I’m not mad at Hayes. Of course I’m not. He wasn’t the creep who cornered me in a frat house backyard. He wasn’t the one who ignored my no.
And yet, a small part of me wonders.
What if Hayes hadn’t pulled away and made me feel so disposable? If I hadn’t spent the past few weeks feeling like I’d been quietly erased from his life? Maybe I wouldn’t have gone looking for proof that I still mattered, or needed someone else to make me feel like I belonged.
But then I shake my head, the anger collapsing as quickly as it flared.
I’m not a child. I know the difference between responsibility and blame. I can own the fact that I put myself in a risky situation. That was my choice, not Hayes’s.
And what happened after my terrible judgment wasn’t Hayes’s fault, either. Or mine. The only person responsible for that line being crossed is Dylan.
“I didn’t mean for any of that to happen last night,” I say. “And I’m sorry you got in a fistfight with your teammate.”
“Don’t apologize for that.” His lips press into a thin line. “Dylan’s a fucking asshole. He had it coming.”
I set the water bottle down on the counter, my throat tightening.
“Yeah, probably.” I swallow. “I just wanted to have fun for once. I never should’ve kissed him. I know that. But he was being so nice. He was paying attention to me, and it felt really good to have someone pay attention to me for once. And I—”
I trail off.
Saying it out loud makes it sound even worse, more pathetic. Needier somehow. Shame coils tight in my chest, and I feel stupid for admitting that part to him.
“Don’t do that.” His whole body goes taut, like a wire pulled too tight. “You have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, voice edged with something quietly furious and protective. “That bastard is the only one to blame.”
There’s a rawness in him now, something wild flickering behind his eyes. The same fury I saw last night, barely restrained, and somehow just as ferocious even in daylight. It’s not aimed at me. I know that Hayes would never hurt me. But it still rattles something deep inside me.
“This wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong,” he says, softer now, like he’s anchoring the words in place for me. “Not one fucking thing.”
“Yeah, I know that.” I nod, slowly. “But I wasn’t thinking straight either. I just… I wasn’t myself.”
“You don’t have to be perfect to not get assaulted, Al.
” His voice breaks a little on my name. “God, I hate that I wasn’t there sooner.
” He drags a hand through his hair, the motion rough with frustration.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Really okay? Just say the word and I’ll gladly break his other arm for you. ”
I try for a smile, but it doesn’t quite land.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I say. “And definitely no need to maim Dylan in my honor or anything.”
Though, truth be told, I didn’t exactly hate seeing Dylan’s smug, sleazy little face get flattened last night. Wouldn’t cry if it happened again, either.
But I’m not about to tell Hayes that and pour gasoline on his already fiery temper. He could get in serious trouble with the school and the team. No matter how good it felt to see Dylan get what he deserved last night, I would never risk Hayes blowing up his future because of me.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Positive.”
He gives me a long, hard look. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not—”
“If you say you’re fine, I’ll let it go.” He cuts me off with a raised hand. “But, Al… you’ve got to be more careful. I saw you doing shots with him, and I get it, you were just trying to have fun. But Dylan isn’t a guy to play games with. You know what he’s like.”
“Yeah, I know—”
“And he won’t be the last asshole who tries something like that, either,” he says, and something heavier settles behind his words. “You’ve got to be smarter than that. I won’t always be around to save you. I need to know you’ll make better choices, ones that’ll keep you safe.”
I stiffen, my spine going rigid.
“I don’t need a lecture, Hay,” I snap, fists curling in my lap. I know he means well, but I don’t need anyone—not even Hayes—treating me like I’m some helpless damsel in need of rescuing. “I can take care of myself. I earned that green belt in karate, remember?”