by Ella Fields
I met a girl.
A freshman. She was a natural blonde with a flamboyant nature that had me pausing to reassess what it was I’d planned to do with her. At first, she was merely a tactic to get Renee off my back. I couldn’t get her out of my head, my heart, and my damn life if I kept giving in to her every time she situated herself in front of me.
It was too bad the girl I met was also my teammate’s ex.
Now, there’s a bro code for sure. But Quinn and me, we weren’t exactly tight, and well, he had a girlfriend, Alexis.
How was I supposed to know he was in a similar situation to me? He’d never said anything and still wouldn’t. Instead, he chose to growl and glare at me any chance he got, knowing that his hands were tied.
The thing was, I was a self-centered prick. Always had been and probably always would be. And Daisy, she was a means to an end the first time I laid eyes on her. Easy to fuck with and more than easy on the eyes.
Yet after one trip to the movies, and one attempt at kissing her, my plans unraveled before me in the form of a broken girl still very much in love with her ex-boyfriend.
Part of me was annoyed that I couldn’t seem to catch a break in shaking Renee, but most of me was just confused. Daisy was genuinely good, something I discovered after only ten minutes of being around her. Even if she wasn’t in love with Quinn, I didn’t know if I could’ve found it in me to use her as I’d planned, self-centered bastard or not.
After taking Daisy to the movies, I’d hemmed and hawed about calling to take her out again. I guess I liked her. I just wasn’t sure in which capacity, and if it was worth taking advantage when I didn’t know because she wasn’t in any state to be making decisions about her dating life.
“You’re cruising for one hell of a bruising, Welsh,” Paul said, slamming his locker closed.
“Tell whoever it is to take a number. I’ve got shit to do.” I zipped up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I left the locker room.
“For real, you invited her to the game and then kissed her in front of him?” Paul whistled. “You have balls, man.”
“He’s got a girlfriend.” My teeth gritted.
Paul laughed. “That don’t seem to matter too much to him.”
After the movies with Daisy, I didn’t see her until the last frat party I’d attended. The one where I’d let Renee send me spiraling into her orbit all over again. The very same party where she’d seen me walking downstairs with Renee with what we’d just done hanging above our heads like a guilty cloud.
“I felt bad, okay,” I admitted once we reached the cafeteria. “And I didn’t know it was Quinn she was messed up over until after I’d already taken her out.”
Paul ordered bacon and eggs on toast, and I decided to opt for the same. We moved over to the waiting area, grabbing utensils and napkins. “Still, I’d stay clear. Unless”—he looked at me then, eyes surveying—“you really like her.”
A sigh heaved out of me. “I don’t know if I do.” Which was kind of true. What I did know was that she was a cool chick, and I didn’t mind hanging out with her.
“Right,” Paul said. “But now you do know, and kissing her at the game was just low, dude.”
“I did it …” I stopped, almost admitting that I did it because Renee was there, waiting by the doors as the team walked out, and I’d walked right by her as if I didn’t see her.
As if that could ever actually happen. I’d see her with my damn eyes closed.
I continued when we got our food and found a table. “Like I said, I invited Daisy to the game because I felt bad.”
“For hooking up with Renee at that party after taking Daisy out?” Paul shook some salt onto his food. “You kiss her for the same reason?”
His eyes were bright with humor, but I knew he was wondering what the fuck I was doing. That made two of us. “I don’t even know anymore.”
Summer was fast fading into fall, the wind burning my chapped cheeks, courtesy of training in the frigid air at the butt crack of dawn all week. The only thing I wanted right now was a hot shower, my own shower, and maybe a nap before I had to get to biology in two hours.
Walking into my apartment, I dumped my gear and ripped my jacket and shirt off on my way to the bedroom, leaving them trailing behind me. My gym shorts were next to go, and that was how the red-headed bombshell found me, stark naked with my pants around my ankles, as she laid on my bed in cream lace lingerie. “Good morning.”
I looked around, shaking my head, certain I was dreaming or having a nightmare. “What the … what the fuck are you doing?”
Her lips puckered into a forced pout as she stretched out on her stomach, arching her back like a cat as her red hair slipped over her milky shoulders and breasts. “I thought that’d be pretty obvious, no?”
“Renee,” I said, at a loss for words, frustration mixed with arousal muddling my head. Both of them. “Please, get out. Now.”
“But you haven’t taken your present yet.”
Christ. Her confidence had never frustrated me more. “And I’m not going to. Leave.”
I walked by the bed, slamming the bathroom door closed behind me and locking it.
Under the hot spray, it was all I could do to keep my palms flat against the tiled wall and away from my raging hard-on.
That fucking woman would be the death of me.
I washed slower than usual, hoping that by the time I got out, she’d be gone, taking all temptation with her.
She was, and as I wrapped the towel around my waist, swiping water from my face, something on the bed caught my eye. A card. I left it, rummaging through my drawers for jeans and a clean shirt. Eventually, curiosity got the better of me, and I snatched it up, opening it to a paragraph of her perfect handwriting.
Happy Birthday, asshole.
I didn’t bother with a present. Not after what happened last time I tried that.
So I offered something you’ll actually take—myself.
Also, we missed our first anniversary, which is fine, being that you banged my brains out the night after anyway. And of course, I didn’t think it would be wise to rub the vows I’d broken in your face.
But I wanted to remind you, seeing as you seem to constantly forget, that I love you.
That I’m sorry.
And that I’m still here.
Maybe one day, you’ll forgive me.
Maybe you won’t.
Either way, I’m yours, and yours only.
Again, Happy Birthday. x
Mini Mouse.
The card was a scrunched mess flying at the floor two seconds later, then I was storming out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. Where I found Renee waiting, dressed in a long fur coat and fur-lined boots by the door. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
“You read it?”
“Is that why you’re still here?” My nostrils flared. “To make sure I read it?”
She shrugged, her teeth sliding over her lip. “There are many reasons why I’m here, most of them stated in the card.”
“This ends. Now.” I stepped closer until we were almost nose to nose. “I don’t know how you got in here …” I stopped, eyes closing. Of course, I didn’t need to know of the many countless ways she’d have found her way in here after I’d changed the locks. “But you know you’re not welcome. For fuck’s sake, just move on.”
“I can’t.” She sniffed, and an incredulous laugh left her. “Don’t you see that? I messed up, I know that. Everyone knows that, but I can’t just move on. The amount of effort you put into hating me only proves that you can’t either.”
“What?” My laughter was bitter, dry, and mocking. “You seriously haven’t had enough yet?” When she just stared at me, her luminous eyes shining with tears, I continued, my voice like gravel, “Quit pushing, Mouse, because I’ll keep pushing back.”
She sniffed. “Like you could do any worse. The blonde, really?” she whispered, trying to mask the emotion strangling her vocal ch
ords.
“That’s none of your business, and as for doing worse,” I paused, letting the sincerity in my gaze bleed into hers, “is that a challenge? Because you and I both know that’s not fucking true.”
I opened the doors, gently shoving her out of them. She stumbled toward the elevator as I slammed them closed.
Lost was one word to describe how I felt in the weeks following my last-ditch effort to seduce my husband into letting me in again.
Failure. It was a complete and utter failure.
I couldn’t let that stop me, but I needed time. Time to decompress and shake off the sorrow that seemed intent on finally creeping in. I’d pushed it away for so long, I thought I’d won. I hadn’t. Not yet.
I also needed time to get through finals without failing those, too.
Sitting at the table with my family and the Welsh’s the day after Christmas, I had to wonder if he ever really cared at all? Callum’s eyes were downcast, but a convincing smile lit his features whenever a question was directed at him.
“I don’t believe you’ll have any trouble,” Kian observed, pushing his plate away and thanking Rosa when she came to remove it from the table.
“I don’t know,” Callum mused, finger dancing around the edge of his glass as he stared at his father. “There were rumors, but scouts have yet to show this year at all.”
“Probably for the best,” Kian said, sipping his whiskey neat. “You can’t afford to get drafted early. You need your degree.”
Callum’s jaw clenched. “Right.”
Kian was right indeed, and Callum knew that, but his desperation to follow his own dreams would make an offer far too tempting to turn down.
I picked up my water, taking a slow sip as I let my eyes slide over Callum’s face. Typically clean shaven, it was odd to see that he hadn’t bothered today. Stubble shadowed his square jaw, and my thighs met beneath the table as I pondered the feeling of it on my skin.
As if sensing what I was thinking, Callum’s gaze lifted, but not his head, making his lashes butt beneath his brows. He squinted, that dimple appearing when he smirked at me before looking at my mother when she asked him about the apartment.
“It’s fine,” Callum said, then added, “Sally takes great care of it.”
My glass slipped from my hand, falling to the table with a thump that made heads turn my way. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Slippery fingers.”
“Indeed,” Callum murmured, and I wanted to thump him.
He was doing the cleaner, too? Jesus Christ.
Rosa came around the table with a towel to mop up the spilled water. I thanked her, then pushed my chair back, asking to be excused and not waiting for an answer.
“We’re exchanging gifts in the parlor soon,” Lucinda called after me.
I stopped in the doorway, turning around and painting a small smile on my face. “I won’t be long.”
In the downstairs bathroom, I stared at my reflection, the milky pallor to my skin, my defined cheekbones more prominent, and my hair, curled yet still flat.
Lifeless.
As though who I was had been seeping out of my pores every day for the past year, and it was starting to show.
Dropping my head, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I set the breath free, and my shoulders loosened marginally. Unaware of how long I stood there, my eyes steadfast on the drain, I straightened when voices moved down the hall.
Just get it over with. Half an hour more of playing nice. Acting like everything was just fine when, in reality, it was so far from fine, it was getting harder and harder to breathe.
Not to mention, it was kind of difficult to do that when Callum seemed to have given up caring about the rouse altogether. Something that wouldn’t go unnoticed for too long.
Settling into a wingback armchair in the parlor, I watched everyone open their gifts, my own that I’d purchased two days before sitting on the small oak table next to a cluster of hydrangeas.
Callum looked from them to me, then directed his gaze to the hearth where a small fire was crackling. He needn’t worry that I might’ve tried something elaborate again. I’d simply re-wrapped the comics I’d repeatedly tried to gift him.
With a warm smile, I collected my presents, leaving them wrapped at my feet as Callum accepted mine from my mother. He shook it, then looked over at me, a brow raised.
I looked away and rose from the chair. “I’m not feeling too well. I don’t think dinner agreed with me.”
I apologized profusely, giving Kian and Lucinda a hug. “Nonsense, go lie down. Cal will bring your presents upstairs for you,” Lucinda said, then returned to her mound of cashmere sweaters, imported coffee machine, and jewelry.
Callum’s footsteps sounded behind me, his leather oxfords clipping over the wooden boards. I opened the door, gesturing for him to go ahead without looking at him.
He set the presents down on the ottoman at the end of my bed, and I started removing the pins in my hair, followed by the earrings that my father had given to me yesterday.
“I got you something,” Callum said.
I scoffed, turning to face him and ignoring the way the low light of the room made his chiseled features more distinctive. “You shouldn’t have.”
“No,” he said, placing a rectangular black box wrapped in a gold bow on top of the stack. “I should’ve done it a long time ago.”
With a wink, he meandered out of my room. I closed my door, then against a million voices screaming not to, I approached the present pile, plucking the ribbon off the black box and lifting the lid.
My hand flew to my mouth, a scathing breath sucked into my lungs as I beheld the contents.
He’d finally done it.
Divorce papers.
Attached to them was a small sticky note.
The box fell to the floor, papers skidding over the rug as I muffled the sound of finality with my hands.
Returning to school felt bittersweet.
It would’ve been nice not to have to be in the same vicinity as the man who broke some essential part of me, yet I also couldn’t stand to spend one more minute in the confines of my parents’ home where memories chased me down every hall.
Maybe it was time. Though who knew when the right time was to give up on the one thing you wanted more than anything else in the world.
Most would say never. Most would probably call me a fool who should’ve quit wasting her time months and months ago.
Either way, I didn’t do well with taking orders. I’d sign his precious papers. When and if I was ready.
I marched past the surly desk attendant, who actually showed up today, ignoring everyone as I walked upstairs to my dorm with my head down. I had a ton of designs to finish sketching, and me and sketching, well, we didn’t exactly see eye to eye.
I had to work at this harder than I thought I would. I couldn’t just create whatever I saw in my mind’s eye, and I knew that, but actually having to design it first had me freaking the hell out about possibly flunking in the one area I couldn’t afford to.
When it came to things I cared about, I couldn’t have any more failures.
I went inside, determined to forget, even if it was just for a little while, and got my things ready for a shower.
Hannah was still skating on thin ice, no apologies, but eager to do anything I suggested. She didn’t realize that ship had sailed, and she was better off jumping overboard. I had no use for her other than not to look like a social leper by showing up to parties on my own.
“We’re not drinking beer,” I said firmly, plucking the bottle of vodka from my purse and pouring a drink in the messy kitchen.
Hannah didn’t object, grabbing a bottle of Coke from the fridge and topping off our drinks.
“Cheers,” she said with a forced smile, directing it at Tina as she approached.
“Oh, you have to let me raid your wardrobe already,” Tina gushed.
I poured her a glass too, handing it over without a word.
Hannah
waved a hand. “Half designer, half outfits she’s made herself, I die every time I open the doors to our wardrobe.”
I listened to them chatter about my clothes, thinking that I should’ve felt more about the admiration. I felt nothing.
And so I drank, ignoring the fear that slithered through me.
Fear was a selfish bitch with too much control, and I refused to relinquish any part of me to her anymore.
We stayed in the kitchen, taking seats on stools and watching the party come to life around us as gossip swam from Hannah’s lips to Tina’s ears. Hushed whispers, loud laughter, and a lot of “no ways” and “he did nots.”
By the time I’d finished my second drink, warmth engulfed me in its familiar arms, and I slowed down. Never again would I end up in a position like the one I’d been in over a year ago. Lesson learned. One that I would pay for until the end of my days.
The reason for that walked past, stopping when he saw us and then walking over. “Hey,” Mike said, leaning against the counter next to me and folding his huge arms across his chest. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“Been lying low,” I said into my cup, a sinking feeling filling my stomach as those blue eyes laid themselves on my face. Would I ever be able to look at this man without feeling it? I didn’t think so, but it’d be nice.
Mike nodded as if he understood, and I guess he’d probably be the only one who would.
The girls chattered on behind us, Mike’s gaze on mine like a brand I wanted to peel off my skin. In another life, if I hadn’t met Callum, I’d be putty at his feet. He had the kind of looks that said he wasn’t only your good-looking boy-next-door type, light brown hair slightly mussed, eyelashes for days, and piercing blue eyes that made you feel important whenever they landed on you, but he was also good. Kind, attentive, and apparently in love with me.
God only knew why.
I didn’t believe it, but some would say they wouldn’t believe I was still in love with Callum after all that’d happened, yet there I was … I took a large gulp of my drink.