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Whirling around, I latched my gaze onto the guy who was still on the floor, just now sitting up and dusting his hands off on the thighs of his jeans. And yep, he was definitely the Wick I’d pictured.
Topher’s archrival: Wick Webster.
In looks, the guy ranked up there with the four Chrises. He was Pratt, Pine, Evans, and Hemsworth gorgeous. Being the team’s safety, I’d heard he led the entire league with having more interceptions than any other player in the division. This made him stupid hot because his body was in prime physical condition. His pecs and biceps were basically suffocating in the plain black T-shirt he wore.
I wanted to snicker and roll my eyes, tell the douche he needed to lay off the tight shirts, but holy damn, the only reason I could think that he had those muscles was because God was apologizing to the rest of us for Webster’s shitty attitude—and I’m guessing he must have a shitty attitude if he could so easily call a complete stranger like me a horse-faced troll—therefore, his torso really should be displayed as fabulously as it was.
But he wasn’t just fit, he had a pretty face to go with the body. Full, plush lips; deep, penetrating, and super pale blue eyes; an angular jaw; and not super defined, but pleasantly shaped cheekbones. Then there was his hair. God, his hair was magnificent. Dark with a dash of lighter streaks, it looked silky and soft enough that I’d admired it from afar more than once. It was just long enough for a girl to grip while he was—
Well… Let’s just say it was really, really too bad he was most likely a complete jerk. And besides, no girl would be doing anything with him, anyway; Topher had told me he was gay, so I guess it’d have to be some guy—not a girl—who’d get to discover just how graspable his hair was.
When his gaze connected with mine, recognition flared in his eyes, and we both kind of just froze as if neither of us was sure what to do next. The girl whose room I assumed this belonged to—since this was a girls-only building—surged up from the bed where she’d been studying.
Pointing at me, she gaped. “You’re Haven Gamble.” She turned to Wick. “Oh my God. She’s Haven Gamble. Why did you just drag Haven Gamble into my room?”
Still on the floor, he looked at her, seemingly a little dazed himself. Then he shook his head. “I didn’t. She dragged me in here.”
The girl shook her head, obviously confused. “But—”
She and I both shrieked when a fist pounded on the door, and Topher’s muffled voice hollered, “Haven! Dammit, get out here right now.”
I backed away from the portal, shaking my head adamantly, as he jiggled the handle.
“Haven!”
I sent the door a mean mug, only to yelp when I backed into the girl. She clutched my arm, and I wasn’t sure if she was seeking safety or trying to give it, but I clutched her right back for both reasons.
“Who’s that?” she whispered fearfully.
“My boyfriend,” I uttered, beginning to tremble. Then I shook my head because boyfriend sounded all wrong now. “Ex-boyfriend,” I revised.
The entire door shuddered as Topher manually tried to break it down.
“Son of a bitch,” Wick growled, finally getting to his feet.
“Don’t open that door,” I ordered at the same time the girl clinging to me begged, “Wick, do something!”
He glanced at us, blinking away the two polar opposite commands we’d given him. I shook my head, silently warning him not to oust me. Don’t even try it, buddy, my eyes threatened. You’ll THINK horse-faced troll once I’m done with you if you go anywhere near that door.
That’s when he shattered me with a single question.
“Did he hurt you?”
My lips parted in surprise. It was such a simple, s
hort inquiry. There didn’t even seem to be much emotion behind it. But the way his gaze pierced into me with intensity, gauging my reaction, had me shuddering out a breath, dumbfounded by the fact that he even cared enough to ask.
“Physically, no.” I shook my head, hoping that would be that.
But Wick Webster wasn’t done rattling me to my core. “What about every other way?”
My chin wobbled and tears filled my eyes as my throat went dry with pain. Reality slammed into me, reminding me of everything that had just transpired in the past two minutes: the loss, the agony, the humiliation, the betrayal. I totally didn’t mean to and I certainly didn’t want to, but I began full-on crying.
In front of Wick Webster.
“Oh God,” I croaked when a sob caught in my chest and caused my entire body to heave. Pressing my hands to my heart, I folded in around myself and began to disintegrate into nothing. I couldn’t deal any longer. Going down with the ship. Sinking.
Soft, supporting hands caught me, and the girl whose room I had invaded helped me lower myself until I was sitting on the edge of her bed.
