Chapter 12
CAMMIE
I cried in bed, my comforter wrapped up and around my head. Rose was still at the party. I’d texted her I came back to the dorm so she wouldn’t rush back. Not only because I knew she and Angela and Faith would have a good time, but because I wanted to be alone.
Who wouldn’t when a guy you thought was really into you was into football more? I knew there were sports fanatics out there, but this was different.
Bros before hoes, right?
I’d thought what we’d done in his bed had been special. No way he’d have told just anyone he was a virgin. We hadn’t even had sex. Sure, we’d been interrupted, but I thought since he hadn’t just pushed me onto his bed and fucked me, that it was more than just sex.
Right?
How the hell did I know?
I sucked… obviously, at men.
I–
A knock at the door broke me from my pity party.
The lights were off. I ignored it because it was probably someone wanting to borrow Rose’s hair straightener or something.
The knock came again, followed by Zeb saying, “Open up, sweetheart. I know you’re in there.”
I held my breath. Panicked, but not in the way Trout made me feel, but in the oh my God, Zeb was here kinda way.
“Please,” he added, his tone soft and pleading.
That did it.
I climbed from the bed, opened the door. His hand was raised as if he were about to knock again. “Baby,” he said, studying my face. “Thank fuck you’re okay.”
I didn’t have on my glasses, but I was close enough I couldn’t miss his expression. That he was suffering as much as me. Which made no sense and made me take a deep breath and tip my chin up.
“What do you want, Zeb?” I asked. “How did you even know which room was mine?”
“One of the girls in the lobby. Can I come in and explain about the party?”
I stepped back, not needing anyone on my floor to witness me being kicked to the curb by the larger-than-life Zeb Wilder.
He came into my room and when I shut the door, it was dark.
“Hang on,” I said, having to move around him to get to my desk light.
After fumbling for the cord, I got it turned on.
The room was cast in a soft glow. Rose’s side of the room looked like a tornado struck with all the clothes she’d pulled from her closet and must’ve tried on for the party.
My bed was unmade and Zeb’s sweatshirt was on the floor.
I turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. I was in my usual pajamas. Far from sexy.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“For what?” I knew, but I wanted to make sure he did. Then, depending on the answer, I’d kick him out.
“For making you think Chase Trout and I are friends.”
“Bros, I think the word is,” I countered.
He huffed. “The guy’s a total dick. The only reason I tolerate him is because he’s on the team and he’s a good wide receiver.”
I stayed quiet because I had nothing to say to that.
“He caught the winning pass today.”
That had been him? With the pads and the matching uniforms and the helmets–and our seats high in the stadium–I couldn’t tell who any other player was besides Zeb.
Wow, okay, he was really good. It was like he had a magnet or something and the ball just went right to him.
Maybe that was Zeb’s aim, but Chase had caught it.
“While everyone says I’m the one who makes us win, it’s a team. All of us put in the hard work, the long hours at practice to win. If I kill Chase, which I want to do, then not only will we be down a talented wide receiver, but I’ll be kicked off the squad.”
My lips twitched at the fact that he wanted Chase dead.
“Even if I punched his lights out, it’s the same deal. Coach has zero tolerance for any shit.”
“So…”
“So I never said I believed him. I only told him he made a good catch, ‘cause he did. That’s the only compliment I could think to give the fucker.”
I thought back. What Zeb said was true.
“If you saw Chase outside the locker room with a friend, I believe you.”
I bit my lip, unsure.
“What were they doing?” he asked. “He wouldn’t have gotten in your face at the party if they were high fiving and celebrating.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It matters, because you matter. I need to know what you saw so I can protect you from him. Trust me, that whole family is bad news.”
I took a deep breath, let it out. “I saw him selling drugs to some student.”
Zeb frowned. “Outside the locker room?”
I nodded. “Yes, right before you and Nick came out.”
“You sure?” he asked, then held up a hand. “You’re sure. I believe you.”
“It doesn’t matter because even now that you know, there’s nothing we can do about it. Not that I was going to do anything anyway. I might be a total nerd, but I know that reporting it won’t make a difference. It’s my word against his.”
“And mine.”
We stood facing each other, two feet between us. It felt stilted and uncomfortable, completely unlike every other time we’d been together.
I shook my head. “No, Zeb. You go to the dean or the coach and report him, he’ll know I told you. Plus, he’ll deny it just like he did at the party. Who are they going to believe? There’s no proof. All it’ll do is just what you tried to prevent earlier–tearing the team apart.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Fuck Chase Trout,” he muttered. “He’d love nothing more than to see you and me broken up. It’d make his fucking day.”
“Broken up? We were never together,” I said.
He stepped up to me, took hold of my arms. I had to tip my head back to meet his eyes.
“Sweetheart, who licked your pussy earlier?”
Oh God. I flushed hot remembering.
“You trusted me with your body,” he added. “No one else has ever gotten the privilege of getting between those thighs. Trust me with your heart.”
“Zeb…”
I was unsure, but like a tower of blocks, I was teetering, ready to fall.
“Whose hand was wrapped around my dick? Who got me to come just from that? Who had my cum all over her?”
“Me,” I whispered.
He cupped my face, tipped his head so our foreheads touched. “That’s right. Only you. And us? It’s a thing. You wore my sweatshirt. You touched my dick. No tradebacks.”
That made me smile, which made him smile.
“Okay?” he asked. It was a loaded question. My answer would decide whether we were together or not. Did I want what was happening between us? I felt it, so keenly. I wouldn’t have been so upset about what happened at the party if I didn’t care.
“I’m falling for you, Zeb Wilder, just you,” I admitted. “Not the football hero.”
“That’s good, sweetheart, because you’re the only one who’s gonna know the real me. And, Cammie? I’m falling for you, too.”