Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(62)
He blows out a breath, sagging against the wooden headboard. “It feels kind of good to get it off my chest, though. The only other people who know are my parents, and they seem to think I should forgive Michelle. We’d been together since high school, man. How the fuck do you forgive that?”
“You don’t. At least, not in my world.” As I reach for my bottled water, an unpleasant realization hits me. Seraphina and I haven’t talked about other people. Haven’t even tiptoed around the subject. Deep down, I don’t think she would hook up with anyone else, but it’s unsettling to know she wouldn’t technically be breaking any rules if she did.
The heat kicks on and warm air rolls across my bare upper body from the nearby vent. It starts to feel uncomfortably warm, and I’m not sure if it’s due to the climate control or the disturbing mental image I’m holding in my head.
“Right?” Reid slumps in his bed and lies flat, pulling the covers over his body. He stares at the ceiling as he continues. “We were together for over three years. Three goddamn wasted years of my life. She even came to Woodbine to be with me. I had no idea anything was going on behind my back. Who knows, maybe I was too focused on my own shit.”
“You can’t blame yourself for her behavior. Even if you were, there are a million other ways she could’ve handled it instead of cheating.”
“Either way, joke’s on me. I thought we were going to get married. And now I am never, ever fucking dating again.” His words slur together. “It’s not worth it, man.”
When I switch off the lights, Reid passes out instantly. I’m not as lucky. My mind refuses to shut off. I lay in the dark, staring at the crack of moonlight pouring in through the gap between the curtains and the wall. Is he right? Is this thing with Seraphina going to go sideways on me? What happens when she moves out? Or when I leave for the summer?
She said we should enjoy ourselves and take things as they come. Easier said than done when that’s not in my nature. I’ve never not had a plan.
CHAPTER 22
VALENTINE’S DAY
SERAPHINA
This week has flown by. Not only have I been incredibly busy with school, but I also went to the new Reese Witherspoon movie with Chloe, hit up the mall with Siobhan, took my mom to two different medical appointments, and made a respectable dent in unpacking and organizing my things. Admittedly, the last one is still ongoing, but I can see the floor again so that’s progress.
Tyler’s been even busier than I have. We haven’t had any time together aside from a handful of stolen kisses and daily marathon text sessions. Luckily, our drought is about to end. Chase and Dallas left for their couples weekend an hour ago, and I’m at home waiting for Tyler to get back from working with his goalie coach. We’ve flat-out abandoned our questions today in favor of torturing each other via the dirtiest messages possible in preparation for later.
Hades: I can’t stop picturing you fucking yourself with that toy.
Tinker Bell: I can’t wait until you’re the one fucking me instead.
I’m what some might call excessively prepared for this occasion. I’ve shaved everything from the neck down, applied perfume (including behind my knees), opted for waterproof mascara so it’ll hold up better during sex, and selected the sexiest matching bra and underwear I own. Not that I expect either of those to stay on for very long.
According to the clock, I still have nearly two hours to wait. I settle onto the couch with a cup of coffee and my lap desk, opening my laptop. I’ve been secretly working on a poem for the magazine contest Chloe told me about. No one else knows yet, and depending how things play out, it’s possible they never will.
Forty-five minutes in, my coffee is empty and so is my brain. I’ve been tinkering with the same three lines over and over again, trying to arrange the words for maximum oomph. Biting my lip, I re-read the stanza. Something is off but I can’t place it.
I check my email and find a message alerting me to new grades in the student portal. Maxine was sick last week, so she was late marking our first assignment. We’ve since handed in our second and I’m so nervous about them both it hurts.
Holding my breath, I wait for it to load.
Seraphina Carter, Student ID 29989797
Introduction to Creative Writing
Assignment 1: 91
Assignment 2: 92
No way. My hand flies to my mouth, and I let out a happy little squeak. According to the class’s grading scale, those are both As. For some people, this is a regular occurrence. Possibly even an expectation. For me, it’s an anomaly. I rarely get As. I don’t get all that many Cs, either. My grades tend to hover within a nice, predictable, B-to B+ range.
Though it is only an introductory class. Maybe she’s an easy grader.
Closing my browser, I navigate back into the word processor and pull up the thesaurus bar on the right in hopes it will help solve my wording woes. It’s tempting to get fancy with vocabulary sometimes, but I also have to be careful not to fall prey to substituting synonyms that aren’t strictly identical in meaning.
I read through the passage again, lingering on the part that isn’t working. His face… No, maybe it should be, His features… That isn’t quite the same, though. Neither is right. Is there really only one word for “face” in the English language? How limiting.