Page 152 of Naughty & Nice

It changed something in me. Something I didn’t want to change. Something I didn’t allow to be changed. But something that changed nonetheless.

Seeing Noelle and Hendrix together... Being with Noelle and Hendrix...

It opened my eyes, and sadly, my heart and vulnerabilities.

And… I miss them.

I miss being with them. I miss being myself—my true self—not the version I allow everyone else to see.

I put on a mask with everyone else. I hide my pain, my insecurities, and I make out I’m something I’m not. The guy everyone here knows is an arrogant jerk. Even I can admit that. I didn’t realize how exhausting it is to constantly be that version of me.

“What’s wrong?” Lacey whines. “I thought you’d be ready to party tonight.”

Yeah, me too.

“I’m not in the mood,” I mutter, unwilling to indulge her.

She shifts on my lap, shamelessly trying to drag up some interest.

Sadly, there is none. My body doesn’t react to her in any way.

No, that’s not true. It reacts, just not in the way it should, or at least in the way it used to.

I’m broken.

Noelle broke me.

And for some reason, I’ve no interest in getting fixed anytime soon.

“Aw, I’m sure I can change that. How about we go somewhere a little quieter and celebrate the new year, just the two of us?”

Lifting my eyes, I glance at the clock on the other side of the room and my stomach bottoms out.

The new year is approaching, and I’m sitting here wishing that I were somewhere else.

Wrapping my hands around Lacey’s waist, I lift her from my lap.

“I thought that might get your interest,” she purrs, wrapping her arms around my shoulders as if I’m about to carry her up to my room and spend the night fucking her into next year—literally. “What the fuck?” she squeals as I throw her down on the couch.

She bounces, her skirt riding up over her ass and causing a few of the guys in the room to holler and whistle. But while they might be interested in what she has to offer, I couldn’t give a fuck. Without looking more than necessary, I spin on my heels and take off through the house.

A few of the guys try to talk to me, but most give me a wide berth. They’ve already experienced my shitty attitude in the past few days; they’re more than happy not to be on the wrong end of it again.

I stumble out of the front door, the fresh air immediately mixing with the alcohol I’ve consumed in the hope of drowning everything out.

I’ve tried since almost the moment I walked back into this house, but as of yet, the only thing it’s successfully delivered are killer hangovers.

We’ve been planning tonight for months. It was billed to be the football party of all parties. I mean, I’m sure it is. I’m just blind to it.

I check my watch as I take off down the driveway.

It’s lined with cars and people who are still arriving to celebrate the new year with the team.

“Wilder,” someone calls, but I don’t so much as bother looking over.

I have somewhere else I need to be, and if I don’t hurry, I’m going to miss the deadline.

I don’t want to celebrate the new year with these guys. Sure, they’re my teammates. They’re important to me. But not important enough.

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