“What do you want, Mom?”
Turning on my stomach, I burrow my head in the pillow and almost instantly regret it when my stomach starts to roll uncomfortably.
Christ, how much did I drink?
While I’ve never been a choir boy, I’ve also never indulged in excessive, can’t-remember-what-I-did, I-wanna-barf-my-stomach-out-of-my-body kind of drinking either. Oh, I tried it back in high school, but you learn pretty fast that if you really want to stay on the team and in tip-top shape, so that you can start, you can’t get drunk off your ass every weekend.
“What I want to know is what the hell’s going on with you? You’ve been off ever since we came back from break.”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Bullshit,” he throws back instantly. His voice is so loud; I have to squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to breathe through the stab of pain that assaults my head, intensifying the throbbing behind my temples.
“Can you keep it quiet?” I protest, trying to massage the pain away.
“You don’t deserve better anyway.”
“What?” I ask, confused. There is something in his tone that has me rolling to my back so I can squint at him. “Why?”
What the hell happened last night? The whole evening is kind of blurry in my mind. I know we went to Moore’s for drinks and then…
Hayden looks at me for a moment. “You seriously don’t remember?” He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “Dude, if I were you, I’d stay clear of Callie, ‘cause she’s pissed.”
Callie?
“What for?”
Callie’s never angry at me. Hell, I like to rub it in his face that she was my friend before the two of them started fooling around in the first place. That pisses him off like nothing else.
Hayden chuckles, but the sound lacks humor. “Because you chased Yasmin away, you dumbass. Callie barely got her out as it is. Seriously, man, you need to get your shit together.”
With another knock against the door he turns and goes away while I stay lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling.
Yasmin.
What happened with…
The evening comes back to me in snippets, a slide of snapshots rolling through my brain.
Me drinking with the guys. Yasmin appearing. The bickering. Seeing her flirt with that bartender. Getting pissed and cornering her. Taunting her with her secret. Her running away. Me going after her.
He’s my fucking father.
Her broken, empty eyes, and the tear sliding down her cheek.
My stomach rolls, and this time I know there’s no stopping it. I barely get to my feet and across the hall to the bathroom before I throw the contents of my stomach up.
If only the shame was as easy to get rid of.
As I enter the classroom, my eyes scan the space. For once I’m actually early, so there aren’t as many students in here just yet, but Yasmin’s already sitting in her usual seat, her head hanging over her notebook as she scribbles something furiously.
Taking one deep breath, I enter and climb to her row. The nausea from earlier returns in full force, making me sweat.
I’m gripping the cups of coffee I picked up before coming here so hard, I’m surprised I don’t break the paper and splash the hot liquid all over my hands. I’m a fucking mess, and I know it, but there is no way I could sit a few rows down from her without apologizing for last night.
He’s my fucking father.
Yasmin’s shoulders tense as my shadow falls over her, which is far from a promising start, but I wasn’t expecting anything else.
Putting the cup on the desk, I slide it over the surface until it reaches the edge of her notebook. Slowly she lifts her gaze, those dark eyes meeting my face. The scowl I’m so familiar with is between her brows, like she knew all along who was coming.
“What is that?” Her voice is icy, but I don’t deserve better.
God, I’ve been a grade-A asshole to her.
“An apology.”
“I’m not interested,” she dismisses me, returning to whatever she’s been working on.
I should probably respect her wishes, tuck my tail between my legs and go. But I can’t.
I don’t care if it makes me a selfish asshole, I just can’t leave knowing I made her cry last night. I can’t leave because that empty brokenness swallowing her dark eyes will haunt me. It already does, and it’s been mere hours.
Seriously, can things get more messed up?
There was something about Yasmin that drew me in from the very first moment I met her, but she dismissed me with one look. That’s all it took for her to see through my shit. I found it endearing that after years of getting everything and everybody I wanted, there was this girl who didn’t give a rat’s ass about me. I couldn’t charm her with my smile, my status on campus or my money. Somebody would probably say that the idea of a chase excited me, but it was more than that.
I wanted her to notice me.
I wanted her to look at me.
I wanted her to get to know me.
The real me.
The guy hiding behind the smile.
So instead of leaving like she asked me to, I slide down into the seat next to her.
Yasmin sucks in a gulp of air, her body going stiff by my side. I don’t dare reach out to touch her since I’m not sure I’d leave with all my fingers intact.
“I’m sorry, Yasmin. Seriously. All the things I said. I—” I rub my hand over my face. My head is still hurting despite the two Advils I took once I got a grip on my queasy stomach.
“Do you seriously think this is the time and place?” she hisses quietly, interrupting me. Those dark eyes of hers pierce mine, a mask of cold and collected fury plastered on her face. “I asked you to leave me alone. After all, you owe me at least that.”
She holds my gaze, hard and unnerving.
“Hey, Yas…” From the corner of my eye I see a girl coming closer. She stops when she sees me. “Am I interrupting something?”
A long, quiet moment passes between us. I’m waiting for… something, but it doesn’t come, so I’m the first to concede.
“No,” I say, getting to my feet. I scan the space, noticing that the classroom has filled up since I got here and that people are looking curiously in our direction. Giving one last glance at Yasmin, I shake my head. “I was just leaving.”
Chapter Nine
YASMIN
“So… what did Mr. Quarterback want?” Heidi asks as she takes her seat, her eyes glued to Nixon’s retreating back.
I’m still fuming with barely suppressed anger. My fingers are wrapped so tightly around the pen in my hand I’m surprised it didn’t snap in two.
Who does he think he is? First, he assumes I’m some kind of whore that’s sleeping her way through college, and then he has the audacity to bring it up in a classroom full of students? Seriously?
The nerve of the man.
“Yas?”
“Huh?” I turn and only then realize Heidi has been talking to me. “What were you saying?”
She gives me a funny look. “Nixon? What did he want?”
“He…” My gaze falls on the coffee sitting on the desk in front of me. I wish I could have poured it over his head. But since he’s thankfully gone, I force myself to pick it up and tip it in her direction. “Came over to bring this as a thank you. For lending him my notes,” I lie since there is no way I’m telling her anything close to the truth.