Chapter Twenty-Eight
Colton
“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” Beck mutters, barely glancing away from the seventy-inch television and the campaign he’s intent on winning.
“Nothing.” I swing around, pacing to the other side of the living room.
He snorts but stays laser-focused on the video game unfolding on the screen. Gunfire erupts from the surround sound in a burst of noise. “Whatever you say, man. Just remember that we have practice today at three.”
Fuck.
My head is much too full of Alyssa and the British prick that came out of nowhere for me to concentrate on anything else. I might as well plant my ass on the bench now because it’s doubtful I’ll see the playing field anytime soon.
Here’s the way I see my day unfolding—I’ll stew about Alyssa for a couple of hours, head to practice, more than likely fumble a few plays, get my ass chewed out again by coach, and end it all by berating myself for letting go of the one girl I ever cared about.
I drag my fingers through my hair.
It’s been more than twenty-four hours since that dude showed up at her door. After dumping the coffee I’d picked up Sunday morning in the trash can, I’d paced a hole in the floor the rest of the day, all the while considering the merits of stalking over and laying claim to her.
Except...she’s not really mine.
When it comes down to it, I have no right to question what she does or who she spends time with. I lost that privilege when I broke up with her. For all I know, she had a relationship with this guy while in London. That thought is enough to make me want to slam my fist through the wall.
And do you think I slept one damn wink last night?
Of course I didn’t.
All I could think about was the two of them in bed together. His hands on her body. Touching her the way I used to.
“Can you sit your ass down for five minutes? You’re really throwing off my game.”
I glance out the slider door. The skies are a dark leaden gray. I’m no meteorologist, but my guess is that it’ll pour any moment. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Excellent idea.” He shakes his head. “And they say that I’m the one with ADHD.”
Not bothering with a response, I swipe my keys off the breakfast bar and stride out of the apartment, slamming the door closed behind me. Emotion continues to pound through my veins. I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling out of control. Now that I’ve actually made some headway with Alyssa, it feels so much worse to have it all ripped away.
As I stalk through the narrow hallway, I grind to a halt in front of her closed apartment door. My hands tighten into fists that hang uselessly at my sides.
You know what?
I need answers. Maybe I don’t deserve them, and I have no right to them, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and figure out what’s going on between these two and where that leaves me.
Is this guy a friend?
Or more?
How long is he in town for?
And where the hell did he crash last night?
It damn well better not have been where I slept the night before. That’s all I got to say. Or we won’t have to worry about him. The guy will be dead. With those thoughts crashing through my head, I straighten my shoulders and raise my fist. Before my knuckles can make contact, the door is yanked open, and Alyssa stands on the other side.
“Oh!” she says in surprise, falling back a step. It’s difficult to tell who is more taken aback by my unexpected arrival on the scene. Although, I’m thinking that it’s probably her. “Colton.” Confusion flickers across her face. “What are you doing here?”
That’s an excellent question. Since I hadn’t gotten that far in my thought process, I’m forced to pull something believable out of my ass. It’s not like I can just stomp over and demand answers. Well...maybe I could. But I won’t. I don’t see that approach playing out well for me in the end. “I was just wondering if you were heading to class.”
“No, I’m skipping today and driving Jack to the airport.”
Jack—or as I like to call him, the British prick—wheels his suitcase into the entryway and proceeds to stand entirely too close to Alyssa. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to back the fuck off.
Before I can snap out the demand, her words replay in my head.
He’s leaving.
My brows shoot up as relief rushes through me. “Don’t skip class. I’ve got a couple of hours to kill before practice. I’ll drop him off.”
Alyssa blinks, clearly bewildered by the offer. It’s on the tip of her tongue to argue. “Umm—”
“It’s not a problem. You shouldn’t be missing a dance class, anyway.” I glance at the dude who continues to hover over her. “Right, Jack?”
His expression hardens as his eyes narrow. “Absolutely.”
She shoots a cautious look over her shoulder before biting her lower lip. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I hate the idea of not seeing you off.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Now that she’s no longer looking at me, his lips lift into a smile. I don’t like the way his eyes soften when he stares at her. “Your friend is correct. You shouldn’t miss class.”
“Colton,” I say, interrupting their conversation.
Jack’s eyes turn steely as they shift to me. “I’m aware of who you are.”
Well, all right then. Apparently, my reputation precedes me. That’s probably not a good thing. I have a sneaking suspicion Jack and I will be having an uncomfortable convo in the car.
Wariness ignites in Alyssa’s gaze as it bounces between the two of us. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. I’ll just—”
“It’s all good.” Refusing to take no for an answer, I grab the handle of Jack’s suitcase and wheel it into the hallway. I’ll be damned if this guy spends another minute alone with Alyssa. The thought of shoving him on a plane and getting him off US soil sends a massive amount of relief pumping through me.
“All right,” Alyssa mutters, still looking unsure. “I need to change before heading to class.” She gives me a bit of side-eye before stepping closer to the dark-haired guy.
They ignore me as he takes her into his arms. Everything inside me riots painfully as I stand by and watch them have an intimate moment. My jaw locks as I grind my back teeth together. It takes every ounce of willpower not to rip her from his embrace. He turns his face and presses a kiss against her cheek before murmuring something in her ear that I can’t quite make out. I’m on the verge of breaking up this little lovefest when they finally splinter apart.
“I guess this is goodbye,” she says, sadness filling her voice.
“For the time being,” he adds. “We’ll continue to talk. Just remember that I’m only a phone call away.”
Not if I can help it.
I clear my throat. Even though I have no idea what time his flight leaves, I say, “We should probably get moving. Wouldn’t want you to miss your plane.”
Not bothering to wait for a response, I drag the suitcase down the hall to the elevator. The sooner I get this guy away from Alyssa, the better off I’ll feel—even if I have to drive him to the airport myself. I’m not looking forward to the next thirty minutes of my life. I have the feeling it’s going to suck major ass.
I punch the button and tap my foot, shooting impatient looks down the hall. Once the car arrives, I roll the suitcase inside. The door tries to close four times before he finally gets his British ass into the elevator. The ride to the lobby is made in absolute silence—as is the stroll through the building. The parking lot turns out to be no different. With every step we take, the oppressiveness intensifies until it’s enough to choke on. A few raindrops fall from the sky, which seems about right.
When I finally stop in front of my 840i, his expression lightens. “Nice roadster.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. Under normal circumstances, I’d be more than happy to show off a few of the bells and whistles
. In this instance, that’s not happening.
In one swift motion, I pop open the trunk and toss his luggage inside before slamming it shut and clicking the locks. We both slide into the vehicle before I start up the engine and pull onto the street, heading toward the metropolitan airport about thirty miles away. Normally, with traffic, it’s a forty-minute drive. My plan is to have him there in under twenty-five.
See if I don’t.
Not only does it take effort to unlock my fingers from around the leather steering wheel, but I also have to unclench my now aching jaw. I search my brain for something to say. Something that will break the uncomfortable tension that has fallen over us. I glance at him from the corner of my eye. The British prick sits ramrod straight as if someone shoved a two-by-four up his ass.
What the hell does Alyssa see in this guy?
He’s dark-haired where I’m blond, and slightly shorter. You bet your damn ass I noticed that right off the bat. Sure, he’s broader in the shoulders. Beefier. His physique is more suited to a brawler where I was built for speed on the football field.
I clear my throat. “Short trip, huh?”
That’s the best I’ve got. Even though I’ve separated him from Alyssa, jealousy continues to gnaw away at my insides. I hate that he holds a special place in her heart. More than that, I hate that he’s trying to oust me from hers. I can see it in his eyes. That’s exactly what he’s attempting to do. And I’ll be damned if I allow it to happen.
His gaze flickers toward me. “Unfortunately, work prevented me from tacking on a few more days and making a proper holiday of it.”
Unfortunate for who?
Certainly not me.
His eyes narrow as if I spoke the words out loud. He shifts on the leather seat and says in a clipped tone, “I know all about you.”
My brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the wanker Alyssa dated before her study abroad in London.”
I press my lips together. I might not be familiar with the term wanker, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a compliment. By the icy contempt marring his face, I can imagine that Alyssa revealed all the gory details of our relationship. What sucks is that there’s nothing I can say to defend myself.
It’s all true.
I’m a wanker.
My fingers tighten around the wheel until the knuckles turn bone white. “I’m not the same guy that I was a year and a half ago. I’ve changed.” More than anything, I want that to be true. I’m fighting not to be the guy who was frightened away by three little words strung together.
His upper lip curls as he snorts, “Well, I should certainly hope so.” Even though we’re roughly the same height while seated next to one another, he’s mastered the way of peering down his nose at me so that I feel like a piece of gum he scraped from the bottom of his wingtip. I don’t like it. And I sure as shit don’t like him. “Did she mention that we had a go at it?”
Had a go at it?
Much like wanker, I can pretty much guess what he’s trying to say.
Dated.
The acidic taste of bile rises in my throat as I stare straight ahead. I can’t even look at him. I don’t want to see the smug expression on his face. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll jerk the car over to the side of the freeway and beat the piss out of him for daring to lay hands on her.
“You realize she’s perfect, right?” he continues.
Does he think I’m a complete dumbass? Of course, I do!
When I press my lips together, stewing in silence, he adds, “She’s the kind of girl who makes a man think long term.”
I want to slam my fist through the windshield.
Why the fuck is he telling me this? To rub my face in the fact that I had the one girl worth having, and I let her slip away?
“As soon as we met, I knew there was something special about her.”
My foot slams down on the accelerator, and the engine revs as we shoot through traffic. I’m going at least twenty miles per hour over the speed limit as raindrops hit the windshield.
“Unfortunately, she couldn’t move on from the likes of you,” he goes on to say.
That piece of unsolicited information is probably what saves his damn ass from becoming a statistic.
“It wasn’t until the last month that we became romantically involved. Although, she never gave it a real chance to deepen. When the time came for her to leave, we decided a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work. Too many unknowns in regard to the future. But I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
I have to steel myself for what he’ll say next.
“I would have been more than willing to give it a try. Alyssa is worth it.”
Barely am I able to suck in air through the thick lump wedged in the middle of my throat. Why had I thought taking him to the airport was a good idea? I’m tempted to pull over and dump his ass along the side of the road. But then he’d still be here, and I can’t have that.
“Care to speculate as to why I didn’t put up more of a fight?”
Goddamn it! I just need him to shut the fuck up and let me drive. I glance at the speedometer. It’s hovering around ninety.
“Deep down, I realized that she was still in love with you. A man who in no way deserves her.”
My head whips in his direction.
“Quite honestly, I’d hoped Alyssa would return home and realize she was over you. Then we could pick up where we left off, albeit from a distance.” His eyes darken as he shakes his head. “But she still fancies herself in love with a wanker.”
I hit the turn signal and crank the wheel, zipping off the exit ramp.
Everything he’s just confessed churns inside my head as I enter the airport grounds and turn toward international departures. Once the terminal has been located, I pull to the curb and cut the engine. For a long moment, I stare at the steering wheel. I have no idea what to say to the guy sitting next to me—the one who has been unflinchingly blunt regarding his interest in Alyssa.
The thing is...I can’t blame him for it. And I sure as shit can’t fault him for attempting to win her over. Or back. Or whatever the hell they had going on. I would do the same if I were in his position.
The way I see it, there are two options here. I can tell him to get fucked or—
I swivel in my seat until our gazes can lock. “I hurt her.”
A steely-edged light fills his eyes. Apparently, I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t already know. “Damn right you did.”
“But I’m not the same guy that I was before. And I’m doing everything in my power to prove that to her.”
“Maybe so,” he bites out, “but what’s to stop you from hurting her again?”
Because...I love her.
I always have.
That being said, I’m not about to reveal my true feelings to him. Especially since I haven’t delved that deep with Alyssa. If anyone deserves to hear them first, it’s her.
My jaw clenches. “I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.”
“Not good enough, mate.”
I shrug. “For the time being, it’ll have to be.”
Jack presses his lips into a tight line. It’s obvious that if he didn’t have a flight to catch, he’d gladly take the time to kick my ass. And part of me feels like I deserve it. All right, fine...I totally deserve it. The way I handled myself sophomore year was childish and immature. I in no way deny it. I made a mistake. And now I’m trying my damnedest to rectify it. Whether I’m able to do that remains to be seen.
“You hurt her again, and I’ll be on the first flight back to kick your arse.”
“You have my word that it won’t happen.”
“Better not,” he grumbles before exiting the BMW.
I pop the trunk so he can grab his luggage before unfolding myself from the vehicle. As I slam the door closed, I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans before grinding to an awkward halt where he waits.
“I wish I could say that it’s been a p
leasure,” he says stiffly, “but it hasn’t.”
I almost snort. “I suppose that’s one thing we can agree on.”
The corners of his lips quirk slightly before he clears his throat. “I’d better go.”
“Yup.” I jerk my head into a nod. The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned. I can’t get him out of here fast enough.
“I’m sure this won’t be the last time we see each other.” He wheels his suitcase onto the sidewalk near the entrance.
My brows lower. If I can help it, it sure as hell will be.
When I remain silent, a genuine smile curves his lips. It’s as if he can read my thoughts without me having to verbalize them. “Don’t worry, mate, I’m not going anywhere.”
With that last parting shot, he leaves me standing near the trunk of my car.
Fucker.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alyssa
Zoe wraps her arm around me as we push through the glass doors of the fine arts building. “Have I told you how much I missed your ass?”
“Only about a dozen times, but I’m all ears if you want to tell me again.”
“Well, I did. Who else can I be catty with, if not you?”
A gurgle of laughter bubbles up from my lips. Zoe enjoys ripping the other dancers to shreds. She always has the lowdown on everyone. She knows who’s sleeping with who and who’s cheating on each other. Dancers, as a rule, are a cutthroat bunch. And the ones at Wesley are no exception. They’d stab a bitch in the back without blinking an eye.
And a couple of times, I’ve been that bitch.
Zoe is actually one of the few girls I’ve found who has my back. And I have hers. Next to Mia, she’s the person at Wesley I’m closest to.
I glance at the sky, surprised to find the sun peeking through the clouds. Earlier this afternoon, it had looked like it would be dark and gloomy for the rest of the day. Luckily, that hasn’t turned out to be the case. I’m tempted to close my eyes and let the sun’s warmth stroke over my face.
“Hmmm,” Zoe says, as we jog down the wide stone steps, “isn’t that Colton Montgomery over there?” Her voice turns speculative. “I wonder what he’s doing hanging out on this side of campus.”
The Boy Next Door Page 18
