Page 52 of Sin

“I’m fine,” I say a touch too quickly. “I’m stressed lately because of… You know…all the pressure of finishing this season strong.”

He leans forward, his fingers tapping on the wooden table. “You’re killing it, Ethan. You have no reason to— Oh shit.” He points a finger over my shoulder. “Speaking of which… There you are on TV.”

When I crane my neck, there I am, sprinting across the screen. The ball shoots toward my outstretched hands. I grasp it for a moment before it slips through my fingers and falls with a bounce.

A moment later, an announcer appears on the screen. “It’s been tough for this young man,” he says. “There were a lot of expectations after his performance against Redwood State last year. You just have to wonder if the pressure of the moment is getting to him.”

Noah snorts. “Because of one dropped pass?”

I take a sip of my water. “It was my second of the game. Thank God we won, or else they probably wouldn’t be talking about me at all.”

It’s crazy that I can’t even bring myself to care what the commentators say. All I can think about is the night ahead of me.

Waiting for Lily to come home will be agony. What if she doesn’t come home at all? One-night stands are common among most college students, and Lily might see safe, consensual sex as a step toward healing. Though she hasn’t explicitly said so, I doubt she’s had sex with anyone since Mason.

An image flashes in my mind. Her beautiful face flushed and glistening with sweat. Those stormy-gray eyes dark and hooded. A body covers her, grinding into her rounded hips.

Fuck. I have to get out of here. I’m spiraling, and I don’t want Noah to see.

Plus, I want to get home before she leaves. I won’t contemplate why just yet.

“I gotta head out,” I say as I slide out of the booth.

Noah frowns. “Dude, you’d better not be freaking out over what that commentator said. Like you said, they wouldn’t be talking about you at all if you hadn’t single-handedly turned that game around.”

That’s not what I said, but I won’t correct him. Now that I’ve made the decision to go home, my heart is thumping so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest. “It’s not that. I just remembered…something I have to do.”

Noah’s brows knit together. “Um…okay. See you tomorrow.”

He’s obviously puzzled by my odd, restless behavior, but I can’t stay any longer to explain myself. The urgency to leave is pulsing within me.

I have to get home before she leaves for her date.

I jump into my car and race through the streets. Probably a mistake given the fact that getting pulled over by a cop is the last thing I need right now. I can’t seem to stop myself. My grip tightens on the steering wheel, and my knuckles turn white.

What am I planning to do, stop her from leaving? Tell her I can’t stand the thought of her in the arms of another man? What then?

I haven’t answered my own questions by the time I pull up in front of the frat house. After rushing through the front door, I slam it behind me. I force myself to take measured steps up the stairs to my room, but it’s difficult. I’d much rather take them two at a time. I take a deep breath before opening the door.

And there she is.

She turns to me, smiling, and my knees start to tremble. Her red hair hangs over her shoulders in soft waves. Her lips are painted in a dark, bold color that contrasts starkly with her fair skin. That burgundy dress clings to her curves, revealing her long, shapely legs.

“You look gorgeous,” I croak out.

What an understatement. She’s a fucking masterpiece.

She shoots me a cheeky expression before sauntering over to my closet mirror. She sways her hips from side to side as she examines herself. “I’m way overdressed, but I don’t care. This is my first date in months, so I’m making it count.” She twists around, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “If Jake’s mouth doesn’t drop open when he sees me, I’ll question his taste.”

I swallow, inwardly begging my pulse to slow down. “You’ll have to send him packing. No sense going on a date with a dumbass.”

She tilts her head to the side as she stares at me. Did I say too much? I don’t want her to go, damn it, but I thought I made it sound lighthearted and unserious.

“I disagree,” she says. “Dummies can be fun, at least short-term. You know how I love to have fun.”

Jesus, help me. What does she mean by fun? Is she talking about sex?

Anxiety grips my chest, making my vision blur.

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