Ophelia laughed then, soft at first, then a full, bubbling laugh that made my chest tighten all over again.
Garrett’s head snapped toward her mid-groan. The second he saw her, his expression shifted—brows lifting, mouth parting like he’d just put something together he wasn’t supposed to.
Ophelia’s laughter faltered instantly. I felt her hand tense in mine, her fingers slipping until she was barely holding on.
“Hey,” I started, frowning, but she was already shaking her head, eyes darting between Garrett and me.
“I have to go,” she said suddenly in a thin, panicked voice.
“Go?” I repeated, completely thrown. “What?—”
But before I could finish, the Sharpie girl finally made it to us, waving the marker like a weapon.
“You can run, but you can’t hide!” she squealed. “Youhaveto sign my baby!”
Garrett recoiled like she’d pulled a knife instead of a marker, and in the chaos, Ophelia slipped free.
I caught the flash of her hair as she darted into the crowd, gone before I could even call her name.
Something snapped inside me.
Before I knew it, my fist was buried in Garrett’s gut.
He doubled over with a strangled wheeze, nearly dropping the Sharpie the baby-lady had handed him. “Son of a bitch—What the hell, Adler?”
“What did you do to her?” I snarled, catching his shoulder as he straightened. “Why were you looking at her like that?”
He blinked, eyes watering. “I wasn’t—What are you—” He sucked in a breath, clutching his stomach. “I just—She looks familiar, okay? That’s it! I swear to—Matty, I wasn’t trying to—Holy shit, you hit hard.”
I stared at him, trying to read if he was lying, but Garrett just groaned and waved a hand weakly toward the crowd. “Seriously, man, I can’t place it. I just know I’ve seen her before.”
That didn’t help. At all.
My pulse hammered as I looked past him, scanning the crush of people spilling through the hallway. Music and laughter swelled from the main room, flashes of orange light from the TVs playing the game replay. But no Ophelia.
“Damn it,” I muttered, already moving.
“Matty!” Garrett called after me, still half bent and nursing his stomach. “If you find her, tell her I’m sorry for existing!”
I ignored him, pushing through the crowd, heart racing like I was still on the field. I shoved past a group of guys in team jackets, ignored the slap on my shoulder from one of the linemen, and pushed through the back door into the night.
Cool air hit my face, sharp enough to burn in my lungs.
I scanned the street, empty except for a few stragglers smoking by their cars, headlights flashing as people backed out. No Ophelia.
“Fuck.”
I ran a hand over my face, chest tight, and that’s when I remembered Jace’s text.
With her dorm room number.
I didn’t think twice. I took off down the sidewalk. Every streetlight I passed felt too bright, every shadow too long. My legs moved on instinct, just like they did on the field…driven, focused, refusing to stop.
I didn’t slow until I saw a brick building ahead. Her dorm.
I jogged up the steps two at a time and yanked open the front doors. The warm air inside hit like a wall after the cold outside.
The RA at the front desk froze mid-sip of her soda, her eyes going wide. “Uh—aren’t you?—”
