Chapter Thirty-Five
Sydney
As soon as I pull my bag from the backseat of Brayden’s truck, he says goodbye in a clipped tone and pulls away. I can’t blame him for being angry. I totally blindsided him. The look in his eyes when I told him that I didn’t feel the same way was so much more brutal than I anticipated. As soon as I forced out the words, I wanted to fall to the floor and beg his forgiveness. To confess the real reason for the unexpected shift in my behavior.
But how could I do that?
After we made love—because that’s exactly what it had been—I’d laid awake for hours, trying to figure out what to do. How could I possibly tell him that it was my brother who killed his father in the accident? I slipped out of bed at dawn, padded into the living room, and stared out at the lake, trying to figure out a way to word my explanation so he wouldn’t end up despising me. In none of the scenarios did it end with us being friends, much less staying together and carrying on with our relationship.
How could he forgive me?
How could he not look at me differently after discovering the truth?
No.
Even if Brayden somehow attempted to make peace with the situation, he would still end up resenting me. If the scenario were reversed, wouldn’t I feel the same?
It’s much better to cut things off now and keep the truth buried where it can’t hurt either one of us. Maybe Brayden will hate me for a little while, but he’ll eventually get over it. Come on, this is Brayden Kendricks we’re talking about. I’ve never seen him lose sleep over a female, and my guess is that I won’t be the exception that breaks the rule. In a few weeks, he’ll be back to his old ways, screwing groupies and soaking up all the fan adoration. I’ll end up being nothing more than a blip on his radar.
Me, on the other hand?
It’s going to take time to get over the loss of him. I never expected Brayden to claw his way inside my heart, but that’s exactly what he’s managed to do in the short amount of time we’ve been together. I might have been with Ethan for six months, but my feelings for Brayden are infinitely deeper. It doesn’t necessarily make sense, but that doesn’t change the way I feel.
With a sinking heart, I watch his black truck disappear from the parking lot and down the road before I turn toward the building. The entire way up the elevator, uncertainty claws at me. Did I make the right decision in setting him free?
I try to imagine the hatred that would grow in his eyes if he ever discovered the truth. This morning was bad enough. I don’t think I could bear for that to happen. With a heavy heart, I shove my key in the lock before pushing open the door to our apartment. Demi’s head pops up from the back of the couch.
“Hey girl, you’re back early. Did you have a nice mini vacay?” Before I can answer, she chirps, “Tell me all about it! I’ve got about ten minutes before I have to take off for my first class.”
As much as I want to keep this all to myself, there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable. Demi will hear about it eventually. Better to get it over with now and move on.
I clear my throat and attempt to keep my voice devoid of emotion. “Actually, we broke up.”
She jerks to attention and stares at me for a long heartbeat before searching my face as if she expects me to burst out with a just kidding!
When I remain silent, she whispers, “Are you serious?”
I inhale a deep breath and battle back a heavy wave of emotion as it crashes over me, threatening to suck me under. “Yep.” It’s a struggle to keep the thin waver from invading my voice.
“I...” Brows furrowed, she shakes her head as if she’s at a total loss for words. Demi might not be as outspoken as I am, but she’s rarely shocked into silence.
I press my lips together before forcing myself to repeat the lie I’d told Brayden. “In the end, it just wasn’t going to work out.”
“Oh.” Confusion flickers across her expression. “I thought you really liked him. You seemed so happy and got along so well.”
“Yeah...well.” I shrug. When the backs of my eyes begin to burn, I realize that I’m precariously close to falling apart. That’s the last thing I want to happen. Demi is my best friend, and I can tell her anything. Even if she doesn’t necessarily agree with my decision, she’ll stand by my side because that’s the kind of ride or die she is, but I don’t want to reveal the truth about Peter. She understands that he died in a car accident but doesn’t know the entire story. Only the bits and pieces I’ve chosen to share.
Even though I didn’t go far away to college, it was a relief to leave the claustrophobic halls of high school behind and start over with people who didn’t know who I was or the tragedy that had occurred. After the accident, there had been a lot of pitying looks mingled with accusatory ones aimed in my direction. Kids I’d known since grade school whispered behind my back, gossiping about how my older brother had been out drinking with friends and had gotten behind the wheel of his car. He’d killed himself and taken an innocent man with him.
Not only did we have to work our way through the grief and loss, but we had to reconcile ourselves with the disastrous decision he’d made. One that not only altered our family but someone else’s as well. There is no way to wrap that up with a pretty bow.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Demi asks gently, cutting into the chaotic whirl of my thoughts.
I shake my head. “Talking about the situation won’t change the outcome.” That, at the very least, is the truth.
When Demi opens her mouth in protest, I raise my hand and cut her off. “I’m sorry, I need to change and get ready for class.” Not waiting for a reply, I slip inside my room. Once the door is closed behind me, I lean against it and squeeze my eyes tightly shut.
It feels like I’m making the biggest mistake of my life, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
My relationship with Brayden is yet another casualty of the last decision Peter ever made.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Brayden
I strip off my practice jersey and pads before shoving them in my locker. One would think that my head would be focused on football. We have a conference rivalry game coming up this weekend. There shouldn’t be room for anything else. Certainly not Sydney or the way she annihilated my heart.
I’d hoped that with enough time and space, she would eventually come around, but so far, that hasn’t happened. When I showed up to class on Wednesday, Sydney refused to look at me and then slipped out the door before I could track her down for a conversation. A couple hours after that, I broke down and texted her. She opened the message and never bothered with a response.
Can you believe that shit?
It’s been three days since I dropped her off outside the apartment. The ride home from the cabin had been brutal. So many thoughts had run through my head as I poured over every minute interaction, trying to pinpoint where it had all gone wrong. It had to be when I declared my feelings. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Okay, so she’s not there yet. Why axe our entire relationship?
Is it possible that she was faking her emotions the entire time? The thought of her doing that is enough to make my gut twist into a painful knot. Or was this entire thing more casual for her? And the way I’d gotten serious freaked her out?
I don’t know.
And that’s the problem.
A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, forcing me out of the depressing thoughts I’ve become mired in. It’s both a relief and an embarrassment. I don’t need people to see that I’m handling this breakup like a little bitch. There has always been a revolving door of girls coming and going from my life. It’s never been a big deal. Most of the time, I was the one holding the door open for them to walk through.
Sydney has turned out to be the exception to that rule.
Concern fills Rowan’s eyes. “You doing all right?”
Laughter gurgles up in my throat.
Hell no, I’m not all right. Do I look remotely okay?
But I’ll be damned if I allow those words to escape from my mouth.
I jerk my head into a tight nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
There’s no way I’m going to break down and have a Dr. Phil moment in the locker room. Can you even imagine? Maybe all the guys can crowd around, and we can take turns sharing our innermost feelings and expressing ourselves. We can turn it into one of those cheesy counseling videos they force you to watch in high school.
Hard pass.
Deep down, I feel like enough of a jackass for believing that we ever had something special. Clearly, I was the only idiot thinking long term.
His brows pinch together.
My guess is that Rowan doesn’t believe me. Can’t say I blame him. I’ve caught a couple of glimpses of myself in the bathroom mirror. I look like shit. My eyes are hollowed out and there are purple smudges beneath them that make it look like I haven’t been sleeping at night because guess what?
I haven’t been.
Instead of catching some much-needed Zzzz’s, I stare sightlessly at the ceiling and rehash every second of the time we spent together. Play by play. Frame by frame. It’s like I’m pouring over game film in my head, trying to figure out if I was faked out by a mastermind or if there’s something else going on that I have yet to pick up on.
Know what’s even more disturbing?
I’ve been stalking Sydney’s social media. Not that I’ve found anything worthwhile. She’s been laying low and not posting.
Yeah, I’ve become that guy.
It’s just another kick in the ass as far as I’m concerned.
“Have you tried talking to her?” he asks.
I blink out of the sneaky thoughts that have tangled around me like jungle vines. It’s disconcerting how easy it is to get sucked back into the whirl of them.
There’s no need to elaborate on who the her in question is.
We both know.
“It’s a little difficult to do that when she won’t respond to my texts.” I snap my teeth together, irritated with myself for revealing even that much. It’s not like I’m gunning to look like any more of a lovesick pussy than I already do.
It’s official—I’ve jackhammered to an all-new low.
If there were a way to shake myself out of the stupor I’ve fallen into, I would do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, there’s no easy fix. For a brief moment, I’d considered hooking up with one of the groupies who are always hanging around at the house, but the thought of touching another girl turns my stomach. Plus, I don’t want to do anything to fuck up our relationship if she changes her mind. Now, if that doesn’t solidify my pathetic status, I don’t know what will.
With nothing else to say on the topic, we lapse into silence before heading to the showers. I do a quick wash and try to concentrate on the game. The moment my mind begins to wander to Sydney, I give myself a quick mental slap and refocus my attention. I need to pull it together by Saturday or I’ll be fucked. If I’m not playing to the best of my abilities, Coach will pull me off the field and bench my ass before I can blink. I could feel him scrutinizing me during the scrimmage this afternoon. He knows I’m off. There’s no fooling Coach Richards.
I pull the towel from around my waist and run it over my face and hair before drying off.
As much as it sucks to admit, I’ve come to terms that Sydney and I aren’t going to magically get back together again. Whatever reason she cut and run isn’t going to disappear. And there’s nothing I can do to reel her back in. That being said, a few answers would be nice. Maybe then I could move on from this place where I’m constantly spinning my tires. We’re fucking grown-ass adults. We should be able to sit down and have a conversation. At the very least, she owes me that much.
Once Rowan is dressed, he grabs his athletic bag from the bench and hoists it onto his shoulder. Only then do I realize that it’s Thursday night and the women’s soccer team has a match.
“Are you heading to the game?” The question tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Guilt flickers in his eyes. If I hadn’t asked, he probably wouldn’t have mentioned it. I can appreciate that he doesn’t want to rub salt into a fresh wound. Rowan is a good friend. One of the best I’ve made at Western. I have a shit ton of acquaintances. And there are a lot of people who want to hang out with me because of my status on campus. Sometimes it can be difficult to ascertain who actually likes you for the guy you are and the ones who are there because of your position on the team. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always downplayed who my father is. I saw the way people reacted when I was a kid, and when he coached my football teams. Or in high school when he would show up to the games. Since we don’t have the same surname, most people at Western don’t realize that I’m Jake Winchester’s son.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go or not.”
“Actually,” I say, making a split-second decision, “I do.” It’s probably one I’ll end up regretting in the not-so-distant future.
His brows rise. “Really?”
I jerk my shoulders. “Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I shouldn’t show up and support her and the team.”
Rowan nods as he studies me. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”
Yeah, well...that’s doubtful, but who knows?
Maybe afterward we can sit down and finally hash shit out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brayden
As soon as I walk through the door of my accounting class, I glance around to see if Sydney has beat me here.
Nope. She’s nowhere to be seen.
After the way she evaded me last night, it’s not a total surprise. Although, it does irritate the crap out of me. I don’t understand what her deal is. She and Ethan are still on speaking terms and they went out for half a year. We were together for way less than that, and I’m like a communicable disease she’s deathly afraid of contracting.
Her behavior doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. This isn’t the same Sydney I’ve gotten to know over the last three years. That girl is brash and doesn’t skulk around, hiding from anyone. And yet, that’s exactly what she’s doing.
It’s tempting to confront her and talk out our issues for no other reason than to move past them. I’m constantly searching for her around every bend and corner. There are going to be times when we’re forced to come into contact. Our roommates are still going strong without an expiration date in sight.
And you know what?
Good for them.
No, really. Good for fucking them. I hope they live happily ever after. They can get hitched and populate the world with little Demis and Rowans.
I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose before inhaling a deep breath. The urge to slam my fist through the wall thrums through me. It takes effort to shake off the fury attempting to take root deep inside. I haven’t felt this out of control of my emotions since my father died.
That’s not a place I want to find myself ever again.
My eyes snap open when Dr. Millhouse shuffles around a few papers at the podium before clearing his throat and launching into today’s lecture. I take another inconspicuous peek around the room, surprised to find that Sydney is a no-show. Have we seriously reached the point that she’d rather fail a class than be in my general vicinity?
A mixture of disbelief and anger crashes over me. It’s almost enough to stomp out the hurt flooding through my veins. Even before we dated—fake or otherwise—she didn’t go to such great lengths to avoid me.
A full five minutes tick by before the classroom door creaks open and Sydney slinks into the small lecture hall. There’s a pink ball cap pulled low over her eyes, which makes it impossible to get a good look at her face. But still...I know it’s her. The moment she stepped inside the room, my body went on high alert, vibrating like a live wire. No matter how much distance she attempts to place between us, the gravitational pull I feel for her refuses to be denied. I don’t understand how emotions
this strong can be one-sided.
Doesn’t she feel it as well?
Once she’s settled as far as she can possibly get from me, Sydney pulls out her laptop and fires it up before staring straight ahead as if she’s hanging onto every syllable that comes out of Millhouse’s mouth. Like it’s the most scintillating shit she’s ever heard in her life.
Let me be perfectly clear—it’s not. It’s boring as hell. Millhouse is yammering away about something that has to do with decentralized firms. I’d probably understand it better if I were actually paying attention, but that’s impossible now that Sydney is here.
I keep my gaze trained on her. I’m burning holes into the back of her head. If she can feel the intensity of my stare, she doesn’t bother to acknowledge it. It only serves to piss me off even more.
By the time our professor wraps up his lecture for the day, I have no idea what was covered, which is problematic, considering there will be a quiz next week.
Before I can pack up my shit, Sydney bolts from the room like her ass is on fire. If she thinks for one damn minute that she can avoid me for the remainder of our senior year, she has another thing coming. I shove everything in my bag and take off after her. A few people try to capture my attention, but I refuse to make eye contact when they call my name. Instead, I barrel past like a locomotive. Most have enough common sense to stay out of my way instead of taking a chance on getting mowed over. At this point, I don’t give a crap about collateral damage. All I care about is reaching Sydney and forcing her to have a conversation.
I have no idea what I’m going to say if I actually manage to catch up with her. Guess I’ll burn that bridge in a blaze of glory when I get to it.
What I do know is that I’m seething inside.
I push through the throng of students plodding through the cramped corridor like cattle. I keep my eyes peeled for her pink hat but don’t see it anywhere. Just as my gaze makes a second sweep of the area, I catch sight of her blond head as she rounds the corner. Her hair is scraped back into a ponytail. The ball cap is now conspicuously absent.
Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series Book 2) Page 24
