Chapter 15 #3
I’ve received praise from coaches, scouts, reporters, and fans.
None of it felt like that.
My eyes close.
The room fades.
Hannah is beside me again.
No glasses this time.
She slides them slowly from her face and places them on the nightstand. Her hair spills over her shoulders in thick, dark waves.
I reach for the hem of the oversized Stranger Things shirt.
She lifts her arms.
The fabric moves up.
My hands skim beneath it, tracing warm skin as she leans into me. Her breath catches against my mouth.
I kiss her.
She kisses harder.
The shirt disappears somewhere behind us.
Darkness folds around the bed.
Her body presses against mine.
Her skin is smooth beneath my palms, but something is wrong.
Too firm through the thighs. Leg muscles smooth and sharper than my own.
Muscle where I don’t remember muscle.
The scent changes too.
No almonds.
No warm trace of Hannah’s shampoo.
Jasmine.
Orchids.
Stronger perfume.
My hands stop.
The woman above me kisses the side of my mouth.
“I knew you still wanted me.”
The voice tears me awake.
For one disoriented second, I don’t know where I am.
Then I feel bare skin against my chest.
A mouth at my neck.
Hands sliding beneath the waistband of my pajama pants.
I catch both wrists.
“What the hell?”
She laughs softly and tries to kiss me again.
“I knew it. You were just playing games because I got mad.”
I push her back far enough to reach the lamp.
Light fills the room.
Krista kneels above me.
Naked.
Dark hair spilling down her back. Tan skin. Runner’s body tight with muscle. Her expression shifts when she sees mine.
“Krista?”
She sits back on her heels.
“Who else would it be?”
I pull the sheet across my lap and move away from her.
“How did you get in?”
“It’s not like I broke in.”
“You’re naked in my bed.”
“I’ve spent the last month in this bed.”
“That doesn’t put your name on my pillowcase.”
Her eyes narrow.
“So that’s it? You give my seats to your study-hall tutor, then pretend you don’t know why I’m here?”
“Hannah isn’t my tutor.”
“Hannah.”
The way she says the name strips it down to an accusation.
I reach for the T-shirt hanging over my desk chair and toss it toward her.
“Put that on.”
Krista catches it but doesn’t move.
“You kissed her.”
Not a question.
I look toward the closed door.
“How did you even get into the suite?”
“Jalen was coming in. I followed him.”
“And my room?”
“It wasn’t locked when I tried it.”
Maybe the latch didn’t catch. Maybe my head was still in Briar Hall.
Either way, she should not be here.
“You don’t climb into someone’s bed because a door opens.”
Her expression hardens.
“Someone? That’s what I am now?”
“You and I hooked up. We never agreed that you could walk into my room whenever you felt like it.”
“Don’t act like you hated waking up with me on top of you.”
“I thought you were someone else.”
The words leave before I can stop them.
Krista goes still.
Silence cuts across the room.
“Her.”
I don’t answer.
Her laugh comes sharp.
“You were dreaming about that girl.”
“Get dressed.”
“She looks like a librarian.”
“Krista.”
“She wore Uggs to a televised game.”
“I noticed.”
“You went to her dorm tonight. Didn’t you..?”
My head snaps toward her. “How do you know where I went?”
“People saw you carrying groceries into Briar.”
That fast.
Nothing stays private near athletics. Not for long.
Krista clutches my shirt against her chest.
“You traded me for her?”
“There was no trade.”
“I’m faster than you. I’m one of the best sprinters in the country. Half the men on this campus would crawl across broken glass for one night with me.”
“I know.”
“And you want that girl with those glasses and poor fashion taste?”
She points toward somewhere beyond the room, as if Hannah is standing in the hallway wearing her glasses and fuzzy socks.
I sit on the edge of the bed.
“This is exactly why we don’t work.”
Her face changes.
“Because I know I’m hot?”
“Because everything becomes a ranking.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“Maybe.”
I stand and pull on sweatpants over the pajama bottoms, needing another layer between us. “You wanted this casual.”
“I changed my mind. I want a label.”
“I don’t.”
“Until Stella became unavailable and you needed a new obsession.”
“Hannah has nothing to do with Stella.”
“She has everything to do with Stella. You can’t stand losing, so now you’re chasing the first girl who isn’t impressed.”
“That’s not what this is.”
I stare at her.
She knows too much.
Not because she cares about me.
Because everyone is watching.
Every choice becomes gossip before I understand it myself.
Hannah was right to leave the arena early.
Krista slides off the bed and reaches for her clothes scattered near the door.
“You really think she doesn’t want something?”
“She doesn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She avoided me for months.”
“That’s strategy.”
“She gave me a fake name so I couldn’t find her.”
“Better strategy.”
“She accused me of using her after I kissed her.”
Krista pauses while pulling on her dress.
“Maybe she’s smart enough to know you are.”
The line hits.
I don’t respond.
She grabs her shoes.
“You’ll get bored.”
“With Hannah?”
“With fighting for someone who makes you work this hard.”
I think about the library.
The film.
The gym.
Her asleep against my shoulder.
“No,” I say. “I don’t think I will.”
Krista’s face closes.
For the first time, I see the hurt beneath the anger.
“I wasn’t enough for a conversation, was I?”
The question lands differently from everything else.
I exhale.
“We wanted different things.”
“You thought I was boring.”
I don’t lie fast enough.
She nods once.
“Wow.”
“Krista—”
“Don’t.”
She slips into her shoes.
“You could have said something instead of fading out and letting me hear about Bookworm from everyone else.”
She’s right.
I handled it badly.
“I’m sorry.”
Her hand rests on the doorknob.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
She looks back.
“Then don’t make her feel like I do right now.”
The door opens.
She steps into the suite and closes it behind her.
I stand alone in the bright room, heart still hammering from waking with the wrong woman in my bed.
The sheets smell like her perfume now.
Jasmine and orchids.
Nothing like Hannah.
I strip the bed.
Every sheet.
Both pillowcases.
I dump them in the hamper, open the window, and let cold night air push through the room.
Then I check the lock twice.
My phone remains facedown on the nightstand.
I pick it up.
One new message.
Hannah: Thank you for tonight. And for the snacks. Don’t make it weird.
I stare at it.
Then type:
Me: Too late.
Her response comes a minute later.
Hannah: That sounds threatening.
I sit on the bare mattress.
Me: Go to sleep, Footnote.
Three dots appear.
Hannah: Still hate that nickname.
I smile.
Me: I know.
I put the phone beside me and lie back without sheets.
The room is cold now.
Good.
I need the air.
Krista was right about one thing.
Hannah makes me work for every inch.
For the first time, I don’t resent it.