Page 17 of Learning Curve

“Says the apple under the tree,” I say with a gravelly chuff.

Scottie’s eyes meet mine and then flutter to Julia and Ace too. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight…any of you. It got late.”

I tilt my head toward my three-piece-suit-wearing roommate. “Someone had a bit of a clothing crisis.”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” Ace counters, but someone yelling both his and Julia’s names steals his focus. A few seconds later with a brief excuse to us, the two of them are heading toward a guy I’ve only seen on ESPN before, Blake Boden. Evidently, Ace knows our star quarterback in a more personal sense.

“I’m glad you came,” Scottie says, her voice a mere whisper now that we’re alone.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nods, and a piece of hair falls in front of her face. My fingers reach out to tuck it behind her ear before I can stop them.

My stomach feels like a lead-filled helium balloon—simultaneously in my throat and my toes. Her eyes lock with mine for a long beat, the unspoken connection between us tethering just the two of us to a moment and making the crowd disappear.

But the contact is broken suddenly and violently, when a body barrels into hers, making her sway so hard she almost falls.

It only takes a second for me to realize it’s her boyfriend—a brutal reminder of how little business I have stealing moments with her at parties.

“Wha the fucks, babe?” he slurs. “You over here flirting with this dude in my face?”

“Dane,” Scottie says placatingly.

“She wasn’t flirting, man,” I correct, stepping closer to him. “Just saying hello.”

He tosses his head back on a laugh as he roughly wraps his arm around Scottie’s shoulders. “And what’s a friendly hell-o it was.”

Every bone in my body wants to get nose-to-nose with this drunk fucker and tell him to stop being so fucking aggressive with Scottie, but a loud cry across the room startles our attention. The flirty blonde from the back of English class is on the floor and holding her wrist with a grimace on her face. Several girls help her stand on unsteady feet.

Scottie shoves out from under Dane’s arm and runs toward them. Dane follows, and against my better judgment, so do I.

“We told you not to drink so much, Nadine,” a girl I don’t know says to the blond flirter, who’s actively crying now and still holding her wrist. “What if it’s broken? What’s that going to do to our season?”

“I’m an alternate this year,” Nadine grits out. “Scottie has my position covered, remember? So, what’s it even matter?”

“Nadine, you know how important you are to the team,” Scottie consoles, which is more than I can say I would do, given the way she’s behaved every moment I’ve been around her.

“Ugh, this shit is so boring now,” Dane complains. He grabs Scottie’s arm forcefully then, dragging her in the direction of the door with no warning. Her face flinches, and I step forward without even thinking. Next thing I know, I’m right in the middle of their mess again. “What the fuck? You just about ripped her arm off.”

“She’s fine,” he says with lazy, bloodshot eyes. “And she’s my fucking girlfriend. Not yours. Lay off.”

A potent mix of anger and adrenaline dumps into my veins, and I clench my fists at my sides at his complete lack of remorse and concern. This motherfucker. He’s just as vile as my deadbeat dad.

My vision tunnels, homing in on his stupid face, but a gentle hand on my shoulder pulls me back before I can shove that anger straight between his eyes.

I don’t even realize it’s Ace until he steps in front of me. He’s lucky I didn’t turn and swing on him.

“I’m Ace Kelly,” my roommate says, introducing himself to Scottie’s boyfriend. “You’re Dane, right?” Sticking out his chest, Dane unwraps his arm from Scottie so he can shake Ace’s hand. Julia steps into the hole he left, carefully pulling Scottie back from the staggering asshole and over toward me.

“You okay?” I ask just as another guy takes a spot at my back and says the exact same thing. When I turn to look, I’m expecting anyone but Blake fucking Boden.

Scottie shakes her head once and then again before finally smiling at both of us.

“I’m okay,” she says then, but I know that face—I’ve fucking lived it.

She’s anything but.

Scottie

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