I don’t answer.
“That’s the “he’s ten feet away and your ovaries are still writing him love letters” look.”
I tear my eyes away from Reece and head to my locker, pulling it open with a loud bang that makes it rattle.“What are you talking about?”
“The way you look at him is the same as someone dying of thirst looks at water.”
“I do not.”
“You do,” Lola sings, way too pleased with herself.“It’s giving tragic heroine energy.The kind who swears she’s done but would still ride him into next week if he so much as blinked.”
“Lola,” I snap, giving her a glare that could trigger the fire alarms.
She just smirks and taps my shoulder.“Be strong, Sam.Or at least keep your panties on until lunchtime.”
Then she struts off, leaving me in the wreckage of my dignity and Reece-fueled hormones.
Aubrey finds me by the lockers.I’m halfway through juggling my books and trying not to think about the look Reece gave me a moment ago.
“Sam!”she calls out.“Did you hear?”
I blink.“Hear what?”
She grins.“Reece.The scout from Mayfair called Coach this morning.Wants to set up a meeting.”
It hits harder than it ought to.My grip on my books slips for a moment.
“That’s… that’s great,” I say, forcing the words past the twist in my chest.“He deserves it.”
He does, especially after everything he invested in that game the other night.And now he has what he wanted: his second chance, his shot.
But it fucking hurts because all I can think about now is that I’ll see him around campus next year.Passing him on the grounds, him sitting with Noah and Aubrey.I won’t be able to look away, I already know it.I’ll still remember the way he kisses.The way his hands knew where to touch, the way he made me feel as if I were more than a good girl with a plan.
I don’t know if I’ll ever stop craving that.
Wanting him.
Even when he’s the one who broke me.
“You should talk to him, Sam,” Aubrey says.
I shake my head before she finishes.“No.”
Her brows pinch.“Sam.He’s trying.”
She doesn’t understand.“So what if he is?”I snap, and it comes out sharper than I meant, but fuck it.That’s what happens when you give everything to a boy and he trades it for a two-hundred-dollar punchline.“He can be sorry all he wants.It doesn’t mean I have to listen.”
Aubrey flinches but stays firm.“Noah talked to him.He said he’s a mess.That he’s hurting.”
I laugh, hollow and bitter, as something breaks in my throat.“Good.He should be.”
She stays quiet, just standing there and biting her lip.She wants to fix this, to sew it all back together with enough thread to make it seem like it never tore.But I’m not some flat tire she can pump full of hope and send back into traffic.
“I can’t let him in again,” I whisper,voice cracking right in the middle.“Not after what he did.”
“What if it wasn’t what you think?”Aubrey’s voice is soft and careful, but it still hits hard.
“But it is.”I laugh.“He told me there was no bet, but there fucking was.And it doesn’t matter what he says now.He made me feel different.As if I meant something to him, just to toss me in the same pile with every girl he’s fucked and walked away from.”
