I groan. "I slept with him and then snuck out of his room."
She frowns. "Why would you do that? He obviously really likes you."
I sigh. "He doesn’t. He’s your typical fuckboy. He’s still sleeping with Harper.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Did you know that when you slept with him?”
My throat freezes. What would she think if I told her I slept with himbecauseI knew? It’s all so dirty and underhanded, and I’ve never let Jenna see that vindictive side of me, never told her about my revenge plan.
She’d be horrified.
“I’ll tell you everything…eventually. I’m exhausted. Can we go back to sleep?”
“Sure. It sounds like you’ve had a rough night.” She smiles sadly before wrapping herself in her comforter and plopping back on her bed.
I know sleep won’t come. My thoughts are as tangled as vines in an overgrown garden. My chest aches with a hollow throb. I have to squash this guilt somehow. It won’t do me any good.
I can only move forward.
I need to talk to Serena. She needs to help me come up with a plan for how to get through the rest of the game without crumbling.
CHAPTER 24
Tristan
I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket as I approach Serena’s dorm, the chill of the early morning air biting at my cheeks. The building looms in front of me like an insurmountable barrier between me and Amy, and I want to fucking kick something.
I shouldn't have to go to Serena to find out what's going on with Amy. She's a goddamn coward for sending me away this morning. For not telling me why she's angry.
I let out a ragged breath, forming clouds that dissipate into the soft morning light. After walking into the dorm entrance, I make my way to the stairwell. My footsteps echo too loudly. I need to calm the fuck down. A temper tantrum won’t get me anywhere with Serena. She’s on Amy’s side. Hell, she might not let me in her room either.
Finally, I'm standing outside Serena's door, my insides churning. I ball my hand into a fist and rap sharply on the wood three times. I shuffle my feet, anticipation gnawing at my gut. Serena opens the door, her eyes huge.
"Hey?" Her voice is laced with surprise. She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt that I recognize.
I look around her to glance into the room. "Is Nick here?"
She takes a step back. “He's sleeping. I’ll have him call you when he wakes up."
I shake my head. "I want to talk to you."
Her expression clouds over. “Why?"
“It’s about Amy.” My voice is somehow steady. "I need to know what's going on with her. She slept…at my house and then snuck out in the middle of the night. She also…" My jaw clenches. "She said something to me in a text that I don’t understand.”
“Turns out you really are boring.”
That familiar ache grips my chest. I ought to be accustomed to it by now. Amy has called me boring more than once over the years, and every time, it made me outrageously, disproportionately angry. Why do I need the rapt attention of this shy, insignificant girl?
Because she isn’t insignificant to me. Far from it. For reasons I’ve never understood, I crave her warmth and approval more than anything in the world. The slightest interest in her eyes is like warm morning sunlight brushing over my skin.
It’s so rare I get it.
How many times have I approached her over the years and tried to charm her? Countless. Almost every time, she gave me that same look—the long stare. It was so much worse when I’d interrupt her mid smile during a conversation with someone else. The smile would fade, and the light would dim in her eyes the moment she caught sight of me. It made me want to rage at her. I’d often say something snarky in an attempt to form a wall around my heart, which only made her look of disdain grow sharper.
I’m fragile when it comes to her.
What a mortifying thought.
