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Not one clue.
I got out of bed and slipped on a hoodie and my shoes. Quietly opening my door, I made sure the resident advisor wasn’t making her rounds. She knew I stayed at Jax’s most of the time, but I still didn’t want to rub it in her face. The coast was clear, and I slipped out.
He was used to me sneaking into his bed at night. I’d wait for him like I’d done hundreds of times at this point. I was thankful I had a key to his place, focusing on that instead of allowing fear of the unknown to get to me more than I already had.
It was after one in the morning when I pulled up to his apartment. His truck was in its usual parking spot. With my heart in my hand, bursting, pounding, I unlocked his door. My stomach was in knots, feeling anxiety for what was to come.
Would he be mad that I came back?
I ignored the looming feeling I felt in the depths of my stomach. I barely had time to contemplate what I was doing before I was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Jax was sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone in his hands, and for a moment I felt relieved like maybe he was calling me.
I was about to say his name when his bathroom door suddenly opened, and out walked a blonde woman I’d never seen before, wearing nothing but a towel. I swear I stopped breathing, and a rush of adrenaline shot through my core. It was like witnessing a tragic accident, wanting so badly to look away, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She was gorgeous.
She must have felt my presence because her eyes shifted to my shocked-as-shit expression.
She shrieked and jolted back.
I scared her—the irony was not lost on me.
Jax instantly lifted his head, meeting my eyes.
His were wide and daunting, roaring, “Fuck,” as he realized I’d caught him with her.
His reaction triggered something inside of me. Our eyes never wavered from one another as I grasped what I’d truly interrupted.
I winced at the sound of his voice, and for a minute, my pain broke through the uncontrollable emotions. I strained, locking up, staying firmly rooted to the place I stood with the wind knocked out of me. Feeling like he’d just punched me in the stomach. It was obvious what was happening here. He didn’t have to tell me, and I refused to wallow in my own self-pity.
Violently shaking my head, I screamed, “You fucking asshole!”
With that, I turned and ran out of his apartment.
My heart.
My mind.
My love…
Was broken.
Snapping like a wrought iron chain. He was pulling every sentiment from my body, every last emotion I didn’t even know I had for him.
“Sophie!” he shouted, chasing after me.
He only added fuel to my fire, making me remember the first time he’d chased me and tackled me to the ground.
My first kiss was now a tainted memory.
My feet pounded against the pavement. I’d never run so fast in my entire life. I didn’t want to talk to him, see him, answer to him.
He deserved none of it.
“Sophie! You can’t outrun me!”
“Eat shit!” His words only had me sprinting faster.
I should have known better, there was no way I’d be able to outrun him. He did this every day of his life for football.
