AllFreeNovel
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I fucking got accepted to one of the best universities in the country. And I’m the background picture of the hottest guy I’ve ever shared air with.How is this real?
The fact that I’m his background doesn’t creep me out, surprisingly. I know it should, but I think the craziest thing about all of this is the fact that he knows everything about me, and I know nothing about him. It makes me itch that he knows secrets about me, things I’ve kept to myself for years. Everything I kept so tightly caged inside me has suddenly burst free. It’s odd when someone else knows the deepest bits and pieces of you. All my beautiful parts and all the ugly parts are exposed to him. But now, I want to know more about him.
It’s only fair.
I search through his phone, ashamed to say I check his messenger and social media apps first. I do it like a jealous girlfriend, though I don’t find anything except a ton of unread messages from puck bunnies that are disturbing at best and borderline sexual harassment at worst. Each one gets worse and worse.
I saw you at the game last night. Call me sometime...
How thick is your stick, hockey boy?
My twin and I saw you on the ice last night and want to know if you pound pussy as good as you do those players...
Jesus fucking Christ, women are as bad as men, it looks like.
But I also find people have sent him videos of him on the ice.
I check the dates of those.
The same date my paper was due.
I click on those out of curiosity, holding my breath as the video fills the screen.
I make out Rowan easily enough, and my mind slips back to that day. To the mystery person who left me season passes. To a flash of his face as he went on the ice. A shiver races through me as I realize it was him. He was so close to me and I had no idea.
I watch him on the screen as the game starts. It’s a close-up video, zooming in on his strong thighs gliding over the ice with ease.
I don’t know anything about hockey, but even I can tell he’s a talented player. The way he speeds and controls the puck. It goes on for a few minutes. I even recognize Nathan, with his last name stark against the back of his jersey and the arrogant way that asshole moves. He skates like he’s untouchable.
Plot twist: he’s not.
On the screen, Rowan approaches Nathan, circling him slowly like an animal honing in on prey. They exchange words that I can’t hear or read from their lips. Nathan laughs, makes a comment, and shoves his fist into Rowan’s shoulder. It looks like friendly banter between teammates.
But I see the exact moment when Rowan snaps. His smile shifts from light and charming to fucking void and violent.
Suddenly, everything is a blur of destruction. Rowan tackles Nathan to the ice, and his fists pound into the guy’s helmet. He pulls off the shield over Nathan’s face, and it slides forgotten across the ground. Rowan lifts his hockey stick and breaks it into Nathan’s nose, the handle cracking across bone before he tosses it aside and just uses his bare hands. Over and over again, he slams his fist down. Blood flies until there’s a trickling pool of it, stark and too bright against the white-blue ice.
And Rowan is screaming something, repeating it like a sworn oath in Nathan’s face. The crowd goes nuts, getting closer, zooming in. Until I can hear the words ever so faintly that he’s screaming over the cacophony.
“You don’teverfucking disrespect Atlas again. I will fucking kill you!”
The video cuts off after referees pull them apart. My own wide eyes stare back at me within the reflection of the dimmed screen.
Holy shit.
So it’s true then. Rowan really did it. Forme.
That type of quick violence should be frightening, but it isn’t. It’s anything but. It’s a feeling of safety. No one will ever touch me again. It’s barbaric and brutal and incredibly sexy. Even now, the aftereffects of watching it have my breaths labored and have me shifting my thighs to stave the ache between them.
Fuck.
A man nearly killing someone for you does something to the body, that’s for fucking sure. I’d sit on his face and ride that man to the moon if I didn’t think he’d happily die there without ever tapping out.
Too bad said man has a mountain of secrets, and I’m unsure I can completely trust him. Sure, I let him make me cum. Trusting him with my body is easy. He’s protected my body for five years. Trusting someone with my soul and my heart is another matter entirely.
So I dig deeper into his social media. When I find nothing else, I switch to his text messages, finding one that stops me.
It’s a summons. A really weird and shady summons to which Rowan replied. There’s no name on the number, and I glare at it, suspicion and anxiety threading through my insides.
