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“No.”
Throwing my body onto the bed, my arm covers my eyes. Replaying what happened between Kassidy and me before Karoline fucked it all up has my dick getting hard again.
“I saw Callum and Rodney set out of here like their asses were on fire. Was that your doing?”
Taking a moment before answering Zanko, I grab my phone again, deciding to reach out to them, since Kassidy won’t answer me.
Me
Is Kassidy ok? She won’t answer any messages.
Gareth
Kennedy is with her now.
Me
Thanks.
Zanko clearing his throat reminds me that he asked a question and is waiting for a response.
“Sorry,” I say, with no remorse in my tone. “I gave Callum a brief rundown of what happened. He sent a text to Gareth, I assume. Whatever response he received had them running out of here like their asses were on fire.”
“I am heading back down to the party. Are you coming or staying here?” Z asks as he reaches the door, his hand on the doorknob.
“Nah, thanks, I have had enough party for tonight,” I answer, waving him off.
“Sounds good, man.”
With those departing words, the noise level increases briefly as the door opens before going quiet again as the door closes. Lying on my bed in the dark, my mind spins. Deciding to try speaking with Kassidy one more time, my phone lights up the room as I press the button to connect the call.
The phone rings a couple of times before being pushed to voicemail. Immediately after, two text messages come in, taking some of the weight off my chest as I read them.
Kassidy
I’m okay.
We will talk tomorrow.
Dropping my phone onto the nightstand, I roll over, facing the wall, and pull the blankets up over my head. After what seems like forever, my eyes drift closed.
Giving up on sleep, I drag my sorry ass out of bed and head to the gym at four in the morning. While the gym isn’t open to everyone twenty-four seven, the athletes get access codes so we can come and go as we please. It’s no surprise to find the place empty.
Starting with the treadmill, then doing weights, and finishing on the bicycle, my muscles are burning by the time my workout is over. Checking the clock, it is now six, and the noise in the hall lets me know that others have entered the building. Wiping down the last machine that I used, I start to make my way back to the frat house. Chin lifts and handshakes are exchanged along the way as the campus slowly comes to life.
Entering the main door to the house, the smell of stale beer and something sour hits me in the face. Deciding that my annoyance needs another outlet, since my workout doesn’t seem to be enough. I make my way to the kitchen. Grabbing a couple of garbage bags, anything that isn’t nailed down gets tossed. Not caring about the amount of noise I make, several people who have been passed out in the various rooms start to stir.
Two hours later, the kitchen is in order. Methodically, I make my way from room to room, just picking up garbage. At some point last night, pizza was ordered, and boxes sit open with cups of beer spilled over the remaining contents. Other boxes have been turned upside down, with the pizza lying face down on the carpeting.
As my frat brothers start to come to life, one by one, they get an ear-beating from me. Refusing to do this on my own, since I didn’t make most of the mess, each brother receives an assignment. Keaton and Orazio approach me with wide eyes. Both men look like they enjoyed themselves, hair mussed and still dressed in last night’s clothes.
“Good, you’re up,” I say to them. “Here, you two start in the pool room,” I say, handing them a mop, bucket, and a bottle of cleaner.
“What the fuck, Brock?” Keaton asks, still not awake.
“Coffee is ready. Grab a cup and get to work.”
“Brock, seriously dude,” Orazio says.
