Page 71 of Play It Sinful

Sean’s dorm is a block away from mine, and I make it there in less than three minutes. I call Alex back.

“Hey.” He answers on the first ring, and in the background, I hear Sean ask if Alex is talking to me. He sounds drunk as hell.

“I’m outside the building. Let me in.”

“You got it.”

He buzzes me in, and I end the call. I’m too anxious to wait for the elevator, even though Sean’s room is on the sixth floor. I sprint up the stairs, glad that my ankle is healed.

By the time I arrive at Sean’s room, I’m running a sweat. The door is ajar, and from the hallway, I see Sean curved over a trash can, puking his guts out while his three teammates watch. Hell.

Logan or Alex, I can’t tell who, looks at me. “Thank fuck you’re here.”

Sean lifts his face and squints. “Ash, you came.”

He turns to the trash can and hurls some more.

“How much did he drink?”

“Not enough to cause this,” the third guy, dressed in all black, replies.

“He was fine one second, and then he complained of being dizzy,” the twin wearing a Hawaiian shirt replies. “I think those fuckers from the football team put something in his drink.”

My brows shoot to the heavens. “You think they roofied Sean?”

“It’d explain his current state,” guy-in-black replies.

“He needs medical attention then.”

I walk over and drop to my knees next to Sean. He stops vomiting and looks at me. “I’m sorry, babe.”

Shit. I can’t believe he called me that in front of his friends. There goes our secret.

“Don’t apologize, Sean.” I caress his face. “We need to take you to the ER.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, dude. You’ve been puking for ten minutes,” the other twin says.

I look over my shoulder. “I need your help getting him out of here.”

“No problem,” guy-in-black says. “I’m Darren, by the way.”

“I’d say nice to meet you, but this situation blows.”

“I know.”

I get back on my feet and wait for them in the hallway. The room is already too crowded. Darren and Hawaiian-shirt twin get Sean back on his feet, but he can barely move on his own.

Progress is slow, but I can’t complain. I’m glad Sean’s friends are here to help. I run to get my car and park in front of the building. Once everyone gets in, I press the pedal to medal and peel off the curb.

The twin wearing the leather jacket and riding shotgun reaches for the grab handle and says, “Easy there, Verstappen.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I retort.

“Getting into an accident before we reach the hospital won’t help Sean.”

“I’m not wrecking the car,” I grit out. “I’m an excellent driver.”

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