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When he didn’t answer, I freaked. “Oh my God.” Popping from the bed, I clutched my head with both hands and began to pace the room. “My living here causes you problems, doesn’t it?”
He sighed. “I don’t see how. He doesn’t even know you’re here.”
“Then why did he go after you?”
“What makes you think he went after me? Maybe I went after him?”
“Why would you go after him?”
“Why would he go after me?” he countered.
“Wickham I-don’t-know-your-middle-name Webster,” I growled, jabbing my finger threateningly his way. “Stop evading the subject. What the hell happened between you and Topher at practice on Thursday?”
“I told you Thursday night. He asked where you were. I refused to tell him.”
“And yet you totally failed to mention the part where fists were flying while he asked, or why your lip was cut open and how half his face got bruised all to hell.”
“Half of it?” he asked with interest, lifting his eyebrows as if impressed. “Sweet.”
“Wick,” I started, gritting my teeth and glaring.
“Okay, so I left out a few details from our talk,” he allowed.
“Major details!” I argued incredulously.
“Meh.” He wrinkled his nose, not agreeing. “I told you the main points. The rest I figured you would find distressing or as something you’d probably try to blame yourself for…which—surprise—you did. So I just left those details out.”
“I did find it distressing,” I agreed. “But once again, you’re keeping things from me to spare my feelings. Except I already told you, don’t do that. I’ll handle my own reactions. Now stop keeping shit from me.”
“I’m sorry,” he hissed back. “But if I think knowing some piece of information might hurt you, I can’t tell you. Alright? I just… I can’t.”
I stared at him a moment before saying, “There’s more you could tell me, isn’t there?”
He huffed out a breath before glancing away and mumbling a reluctant, “Maybe.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head and glaring.
Frowning right back at me, he picked up his earbuds and stuffed them into his ears.
“Oh, hell no,” I announced. “This conversation is so not over.” I reached out and yanked one right back out, only to hear cheering through the tiny speakers, and then talking that sounded like sports commentators.
Frowning, I lifted the earbud to my own ear.
He was listening to the game. My lips parted, and instant sympathy filled me. Forgetting whatever we were arguing about, I reached out and lifted the lid of the laptop. When the screen popped back on, it showed the game playing there too.
Heart going out to him, I met his gaze and melted. The poor guy looked defeated.
“Were you not even allowed to stand on the sidelines and watch with the rest of the team?”
He shrugged and shifted his gaze to the screen. “I’m sure I could’ve. I just…couldn’t.”
“Dammit,” I mumbled, settling down next to him on the bed so we could both watch the small screen together. “I’m so sorry, Wick.”
Shaking his head, he crossed his arms over his chest and kept watching the game as he answered, “Not your fault.”
Leaning in closer to him so I could rest my cheek on his shoulder, I wrapped my arms around his and hugged his bicep.
“I should’ve kept going down those stairs,” I offered, only to receive an odd look for my comment. So I explained. “That night. When I was running from him. I was coming from the third floor and escaping through the east stairwell. I could’ve stayed on those steps and never crossed your path. Never gotten you mixed up and involved in my mess at all. But I thought I’d have a better chance of losing him if I crossed through the dorm hallway on the second floor and ran down to the west stairwell from there. And look what happened.” I lifted my hand toward the game. “You got suspended from a game and stuck with a roommate full of boobs.”
