Why would anyone need to drug me to get me to sleep with them? I wasn’t overly fussy about my bed partners, and from what I had seen of my pukingpartneron Saturday morning, she had curves in the right places. From what my dick had told me as I showered, it had definitely had no problem carrying out its job. I’d picked up four wrappers and, much to my annoyance, three used condoms from the floor on my way to the shower after the need to piss so badly had woken me up. I was always careful with the disposal of my shit, so the fact I had merely tossed them aside as I kept on going should have been a warning on Saturday morning that something wasn’t right.
That and the fact I hadn’t heard my alarm. I never overslept. Now I wasn’t sure if that was an effect of whatever had been in my system.
Why hadn’t I looked at her? She hadn’t moved an inch when Ash hammered the door. She hadn’t grumbled when I prodded her, hadn’t stirred when I nudged her. Hadn’t woken when I spoke to her before I went to shower. I recalled Ash asking if she was dead. Fuck, the amount of care I had taken in regard to her well-being on Saturday, she could have been.
I’d been so fucking lucky. Coach hadn’t noticed my hangover, which I now knew wasn’t a hangover. Our game on Saturday had been against one of the lower league teams. They couldn’t score a touchdown even if we hadn’t shown up.
No one had anything to gain from that team for spiking my drink.
Suspended for two weeks, maybe more. I peeled my T-shirt off as I fumed internally. If it were more than two weeks, I would miss the trip to Texas, and I always enjoyed beating the smugfuckers on their defense. Also meant I would actually have to attend Friday classes.
As I threw my jeans in the laundry basket, I stopped. After our game in Houston, we were at home to Alabama.
Cursing savagely, I pulled my clothes on for tonight before I went to speak to my brother. I knew exactly who had fucking drugged me.
Now, I just needed to find the blonde to prove it.
Chapter 5: Ava
“And then Leitch was like, you’ll thank me for this.” My hands waved as I talked, and I glared at Mia as she stifled her giggles. “Andthen, I was late for History of Writing class, and I sneak in, sit down second row from the back, andsit on a girl!” I screeched. “Go on, ask mewhy.”
Mia coughed back her laugh as she waited for more. “Why did you sit on her?”
“Because she was giving head to a stupid man child,” I grouched as I fell onto the couch in despair, my anger at Jett surfacing once more.
Mia laughed out loud before she followed me to the couch, her iced coffee dripping onto the wooden floor. “In the classroom?” she asked me in disbelief as she sat down.
“Yes! It was horrifying, and of course I yelped like a goddamn puppy, and the whole class stops and looks at me, and the professor turns the lights up, and everyone’s staring, and she’s crawling along the back row and . . . ugh.” I stopped as I rubbed my hand over my eyes. “It washumiliating.”
Mia laughed loudly, her head thrown back as she clutched her sides. “Why wereyouhumiliated? You weren’t getting down and dirty in the class.” As she prodded me with her toe, I thought about Jett’s smug smirk again.Asshole.“Who was it?”
Mia knew I held a harboring resentment toward Jett Santo as it was. Before Friday, we had never actually met in person — and now Ihada reason for my irrational dislike of Jett — but I was a football fan.
And he was a football star.
And Ididn’tsupport the Cardinal Saints football team. Or their cocky, smirking quarterback.
I got into this college through sheer luck and, of course, academic credit, but this was a private university, and I wason the lower half of the food chain when it came to money. Actually, I was so low down I was lucky I couldseethe chain at all. However, I had been given one of only three English scholarships due to my submission entry, which was a thesis of twenty thousand words detailing why I was worthy of the scholarship. My 3.9 GPA helped, too.
My mom went to college in Alabama, and I was all set for their state college, but my chance to stay “local” arose when my guidance counselor recommended I apply for the scholarship to Cardinal Saints College. I’d laughed at first and then thought,Why not?Never in a million years thinking I would actually be successful. The scholarship was a rarity in itself, but it was afullticket; it even included a meal plan. It was a godsend and meant neither mom nor I would need to worry about college debt.
However, despite our gratefulness for the scholarship, my mom’s football blood ran white and blue; therefore,myfootball blood ran white and blue. Not the silver and black of the Saints.
Dante Spence was the quarterback I followed. Dante was the college football star whom I dreamed of. Dante was the athlete whom I had imagined myself with in several positions in the bedroom with.NotJett Santo. With his stupid messy black hair and his stupid tattoos and his stupid low husky voice that made me want to listen to him all day.
“Ugh, no one really.” I shrugged it off, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smile fade.
“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?” She placed her cup down on the table without a coaster, and I hurriedly snatched it off the wood.
“Mia!” I protested. “There’s a coasterrightthere.”
“Gosh, you’re as bad as my mom,” Mia muttered as she pushed herself to her feet. “You’re such a worrywart, Ava.” She held her hand out to me, and I placed the cup back in it,watching her as she drank her coffee, and settled back onto the couch. “Now, tell me who it was.”
“Jett Santo.”
Mia was on her feet again, her coffee forgotten as the cup dangled in her hand. Her mouth was open, and I knew I was about to be asked a hundred questions. “Are you for real?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
