Chapter 24 #2
I nod. I’m not exactly looking forward to our presentation, but at least now I’m feeling too good to be nervous.
Anthony cracks open the door and peeks into the hall. “We’re good,” he tells me, pushing the door open.
The hall is empty as we step out of the classroom, and almost like he timed it, a group of our classmates emerges from the stairwell about two seconds after I close the classroom door behind us.
Ant is completely unbothered by almost getting caught, and I do my best to appear equally chill, like nothing is going on, as we walk to our classroom together.
We only have about five minutes until class starts when we sit down at our desks, and Anthony opens his bag and digs out a protein bar, a container of mixed berries, and a packet of jerky, placing them on the corner of my desk.
“Thanks,” I say, my throat tight at his thoughtfulness.
“Anytime.” He gives me a secret smile that makes my insides feel funny. “Did you remember to bring water?”
I nod and dutifully pull my water bottle out of my bag to show him.
He gives me another of those secret smiles, and I try not to look at him with heart eyes as I pop open the packet of berries and dig a plump strawberry out of it.
Anthony has brought food for me to every class since we were paired up for our project together, and he always makes sure I’ve eaten enough when we hang out.
The only other person in my life who’s ever cared if I was eating or not was my childhood nanny. Not even my family gave a shit, and I’d forgotten how good it feels when someone cares about you and your well-being.
Ant watches me put the strawberry in my mouth, his pupils blown wide as I lick some juice off my fingers. He averts his eyes and pulls his water bottle out from the pocket on the side of his bag.
I quickly finish the berries as he takes several long swallows.
I just need to get through today’s class and this damn presentation, and everything will be fine.
“How do you think we did?” I ask Anthony as we gather our things at the end of class.
“Pretty sure we nailed it.” He tosses me a cocky grin. “Did you have any doubts?”
“Yes, lots of them.” I shoot him a pointed look. “Remember?”
His grin goes wicked. “I remember. And I also remember how we took care of that issue before class,” he adds in a low voice only I can hear.
My neck grows uncomfortably warm, and my water bottle slips right out of my hand as I try to shove it into the side pocket on my bag and clatters to the floor.
He scoops it up slips it into the pocket. “Do you remember?” he asks in a low voice.
I nod and hastily finish zipping my bag. “Don’t think I could forget it if I tried.”
He waits as I sling my backpack over my shoulders, then we head out of class together.
I want to ask him again how he thinks we did, but I hold back.
He’s right. We nailed the presentation, and it was mostly because of him.
His calm confidence helped me stay focused, and the few times my mind wandered or I lost my train of thought, he was right there to either guide me back on topic or redirect my thoughts to something relevant without making it obvious.
And more importantly, without making me feel stupid like so many other people do when I get distracted or mess up.
We knew our material, we answered every question the class and Professor Morris threw at us, and we kept our classmates engaged. We did everything we were supposed to do, and we should ace it.
His phone pings loudly as we step into the hall. He digs it out of his hoodie pocket and pauses as he reads what I assume is a text.
“Is everything okay?” I ask after he types out a quick reply, his expression going as dark as his demeanor.
He looks angry enough to kill, and the change in him is stark. It would probably freak me out if I hadn’t seen this shift in him before. Something is up, and by the looks of it, it’s serious.
“I have to go deal with something,” he says, shoving his phone back into his hoodie pocket.
“Yeah, okay.” I give him what I hope is a neutral smile. “See you later?”
He nods. “Later.”
I watch as he strides ahead of me, and my stomach drops when he disappears through the door to the stairs.
I know he’s busy and has a ton of stuff going on that’s none of my business, but I can’t shake the feeling that this is the beginning of the end of whatever has been going on between us.
He’s going to get bored with me just like everyone else, and I need to prepare myself for when it happens so I’m not left devastated when it does.
I’m just settling in on my couch when my phone pings with a text.
Pulling it out of my pocket, I check my notifications, then open my texts.
Damon: what are you doing right now?
West: nothing
Damon: what will you be doing in an hour?
West: probably still nothing
West: why?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“It’s open,” I call and glance up from my phone.
My door swings open, and Damon strides into my room.
I look between the door and my phone, then toss my phone onto my coffee table next to my laptop.
“Hey,” I say as he closes the door behind him.
“Hey.” He crosses the room and drops onto the other side of my couch. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“No, I haven’t.”
He gives me a flat look. “I’ve barely seen you at all in the past few weeks.”
“To be fair, I’ve barely seen anyone in the past few weeks,” I point out. “Having your life implode and become the latest campus gossip puts a damper on your desire to be around people.”
He winces. “Yeah, I imagine it would. How are you doing?”
I shrug. “A lot better now that people have finally stopped talking about my broken dick and are just gossiping about my failed engagement.”
I’m still not exactly sure what happened, but the rumors about my lack of bedroom skills just died almost overnight about a week ago, right after Anthony made Derek shut down all the betting pools about me.
“That has to be a relief,” he says.
“Do I have Xave and his cousins to thank for that?” I ask.
The only theory that makes any sense is either a bigger story happened, or someone made a concerted effort to shut the rumors down.
Damon gives me a strange look. “No, not them.”
“What?” I ask. “Why did you make that face?”
“Because it wasn’t Xave and his cousins who were talking to people, it was the royalty.”
“What?” I splutter.
“Yeah. They let everyone know what would happen if they kept spreading rumors about you.” He studies my face. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “You’re the only person I’ve talked to since all this shit went down.”
“I figured Anthony would tell you since you were working on that project together,” he points out.
“He didn’t say anything to me.”
“Well, you definitely have them to thank because they made sure everyone understood the consequences if they kept talking about you.” He kicks his feet up on the coffee table and leans back. “What are we watching?”
“Watching?” I ask, still trying to wrap my head around Anthony and his friends going around and threatening people if they didn’t stop gossiping about me.
Was this what any good leader would do for one of their frat brothers?
It couldn’t have just been because it was me they were talking about, could it?
He points to my laptop.
“Oh, I was getting set up to watch the game,” I say absently.
“Game?” He shoots me a weird look.
“The hockey game,” I say, trying to sound casual. “We’re playing the Kings tonight.”
“Since when do you watch house hockey games?” he asks.
“Since I found out Anthony and his friends are on the team, and they’re really fucking good.”
“Really?” He settles back against my couch. “Like, how good?”
“Have you heard of Institut Le Roche?” I ask as I turn the laptop on and navigate to the school streaming site.
“Who hasn’t?” he says. “Wait, did they go there?”
I nod and click on the hockey stream. There’s about five minutes until warm-ups start, according to the countdown clock filling the screen.
“For their hockey program?” he asks, his eyes comically round.
“Yup.”
“Jesus,” he breathes.
“Wait until you find out they’re also super into skiing and snowboarding and can do insane flip jumps and other tricks that your brain can’t even begin to comprehend even after seeing them.”
“And here I was feeling proud that I managed to find the end of a roll of tape in only a minute instead of the usual two or three,” he says dryly.
“At least you didn’t spend two minutes looking under your bed for your phone, while you were using your phone as a flashlight,” I say. “Because I did that last week.”
He laughs. “Believe it or not, I actually have done that. Only it was my closet, and it was only about one minute instead of two. But close enough.”
“At least I’m not the only one.”
Ping.
“Do you mind if I check that?” I ask.
“Of course not.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket, and my heart skips a beat when I see a familiar number.
Mr. X: are you watching my game?
West: I’m about to
Mr. X: want to make a deal?
West: what kind of deal?
Mr. X: the kind where I get to do whatever I want to you if I score a hat trick
West: yes
West: deal
Mr. X: lol
Mr. X: you didn’t even ask what I’m planning
West: what are you planning?
Mr. X: something you’ll never forget
West: that’s a pretty big promise
Mr. X: I can deliver
West: a hat trick is when you score three goals in one game right?
Mr. X: lol yes
Mr. X: keep your phone close
Mr. X: I’ll text you my instructions when I get my hat trick
West: what if you don’t get one?
Mr. X: then I’ll save my idea for another night
Mr. X: wish me luck
West: good luck
“Why are you blushing?”
I nearly jump out of my skin and fumble my phone like a dumbass. “Jesus!”
Damon bursts out laughing. “Did you forget that I’m sitting right here?”
“I didn’t forget.” I tuck my phone away. “I was just distracted, and you scared the shit out of me.”
“Distracted by your booty call?” he asks casually.
“Booty call?” I shoot him what I hope is a confused look.