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 beeninterrupted, 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 theoh my God, Zeb was herekinda 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.”
