Page 57 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 2

“Dixon, you need to go,” Jennifer said.

“I’m naked. And hungry.” The guy she called Dixon said as he crossed his big arms at his chest. They were definitely larger than my arms. His abs were softer, though, even if his pecs were massive.

Why the hell was I comparing myself to him? I forced myself to stop before my gaze dropped even lower. No. I won’t let his barbaric looks intimidate me, I thought. “Maybe I should go,” I said dryly. I took a step back when the elevator dinged and the door opened. A young man with a large pizza box stepped out.

Jennifer was fuming with anger. “Sebastian, what are you doing here? You should have called.”

Dixon accepted the delivery and stepped away from the door. “I’m taking this with me,” he announced. The delivery guy left us as quickly as he had interrupted.

Dixon’s words set a fire in Jennifer’s eyes, but she rounded on me, holding the towel in place. “How many times did I tell you to call first?”

“Was it always because there was someone else here?” I asked after a moment of silence. I hadn’t said a million other things that had crossed my mind. I could do this like a civilized person. I didn’t look like a brute and I wasn’t one. Even if that seemed to be my girlfriend’s type.

The passive-aggressive throwing of pieces of clothes told me that Dixon was getting dressed for a cold night out.

“No,” Jennifer snapped in reply to my question. “I never had anyone over. I just don’t like…when you don’t call…” She struggled to find new words because those she had spoken turned to lies as Dixon stepped toward us and yanked his jacket on. True to his word, he carried the big pizza with him.

“This is bullshit,” he growled. He turned to me. “Don’t fucking lay a finger on her.”

“Dixon, go away,” Jennifer all but screeched.

I stepped away from them both. “No worries there. I wouldn’t touch her with a stick.”

“Whoa,” the brute growled at me. “Shut the f…”

“Dixon,” Jennifer reminded him, and the dude punched the elevator button. An awkward silence settled while Dixon waited for the elevator to return and I wondered if I had any reason to linger. Perhaps to let my feelings pour into words? I didn’t know why I would want to do that. I didn’t know why I would spill my heart out to the very person who had shredded it. What would that accomplish? I couldn’t make her ashamed when she had no shame. Besides, I didn’t want to.

We were all losers here.

Dixon struggled with the box and I watched with disgust as he slipped a greasy slice of pizza out and began eating it in the hallway. Drops of orange pepperoni oil dribbled down his chin. He sauntered into the elevator, dropped the slice on top of the box, and pressed the button with one oily finger. Fucking asshole.

As the elevator door closed, I looked at Jennifer. “He’s a catch.”

She rolled her eyes with total disdain. “Don’t give me that shit.”

“Which shit should I give you?” I asked, unable to resist. Perhaps I wasn’t as grown-up as I had presented myself to be. The wound that tore open deep inside of me was slow to begin bleeding, but it bled all the same.

Jennifer lingered at the door silently. Her light brown hair was dark with the water that soaked it, dripping down her shoulders. She was a lean girl, her bony shoulders poking out, her breasts small and firm, and her hips just as thin as the rest of her. Her fingers were long even without her acrylic nails. But as I looked up, I found her light brown eyes blazing with annoyance. “You never want to have sex,” she said and shook her head slightly.

“I’m not doing this out here,” I said, pulling away.

She stepped away from the door. I didn’t know where I wanted to go. If I entered her studio, the place where I had been endlessly happy so many times, would I crack? Would this mask of calm demeanor fall? Would I plead with her and degrade myself by offering to work it out? To take the blame? To pretend I wasn’t hurt so I wouldn’t shame her?

But to turn around and walk away without speaking another word felt wrong, too. I had so much to tell her. And I wanted to hear even more. Except, her most recent words stung me like I’d dunked my hand in a pot of boiling water.

My back straightened and my arms dropped to my sides. I realized I was still holding the damn chocolate in my left hand. It was beginning to melt. Worse, I had somehow gripped it so hard that it broke.

Jennifer’s gaze flicked down and back to me. There was no pity in them. If anything, I’d only annoyed her further. “Come in.”

I walked into the tiny hallway. To my right, her bathroom was still steaming from a long, hot shower. It made my stomach turn. As I shut the door, I couldn’t help it. My lips dragged down and I forced myself to remain steady. “Why?” I knew it made me look pathetic. “I thought you liked me.”

“I like you, Sebastian,” she said as she walked into the main room. It was just as cluttered and as busy as ever, but all the magic was gone. As if she wanted to tear the wound apart, she untied her towel and tossed it over the back of a chair.

I gritted my teeth. Her shoulder blades were pronounced on her slim back. She walked across the room as if wanting to torture me and opened her wardrobe. She had a gorgeous deep red robe with light red seams that she slipped on. She tied a matching sash around her waist and sat down on one side of the bed. She bent one leg over the other and looked at me, her robe parting to reveal her knee and shin. “I always liked you,” she said.

“Yeah, I feel adored,” I said venomously.

She forced on a tired look for dramatic effect. “Sebastian, it didn’t mean anything.”