Page 112 of Iced Out

The sound of the door swinging open lets me know whoever it is doesn’t care, and Braxton comes into view when I’m done pulling the hoodie over my head.

“What?” I snap again, irritation settling low in my stomach.

He steps into my room and slams the door closed behind him.

“Those guys might not have the balls to ask questions right now, but I’m not leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“You’re askingmewhat the fuck is going on?” I hiss, pacing the room. “You’re the one who has the explaining to do here. And I’m not doing this bullshitdon’t ask, don’t tellcrap anymore.”

Too bad Braxton doesn’t hear me, instead tossing accusations right back in my face.

“What do I need to explain to you?” he asks, incredulous. “You’re the one who’s been fucking de Haas behind all our backs. And even if the rest of them don’t give a shit, I sure do.”

Quinn’s name from his lips lands a blow straight to my chest, damn near knocking the wind out of me. But I breathe through the pain, my gaze colliding with his.

“What does it matter to you who I’m sleeping with?”

“It matters when you’re literally fucking the guy we tried to take out earlier this season.” He shakes his head, tossing his arms out to the side. “I’m honestly surprised this didn’t blow up in your face sooner.”

“That’s fucking rich coming from the guy who set this whole mess into motion.”

“Me?You’re the one who gave me the fucking idea in the first place, Oakley! So don’t be coming after me just because you can’t—”

“It wasmy idea?”I wheel on his, eyes wide and temper blazing. “Please tell me when I’ve ever said ‘hey, let’s fuck with someone else’s drug test just because we don’t like them and see what happens?’”

“No, but youarethe one who brought up high school and were all ‘too bad we can’t slip weed or booze in his locker.’”

I blink at him, trying to see how he made the logical leap from that singular comment to…to— “So the next natural thought you had was todrug himwithout him knowing?”

He frowns, confusion etched into his brow. “I didn’t drug him.”

Slamming my eyes closed, I pinch the bridge of my nose. All these non-answers are starting to give me a headache, and I’m fucking over it.

“If you didn’t drug him, then how the fuck do you explain the positive test then?”

“Shhh,” he hisses, glaring at me as he crosses the room. “Look, just keep it down, all right? Holden and Theo might be all the way downstairs, but Cam’s room is right next door, and the last thing we need is him hearing—”

He’s actually worried about that right now?

“Oh, fuck off, Braxton. Just say what you need to say, because this entire fucking situation can’t possibly get any worse.”

He gives me a dubious look before shaking his head. “Well, it started when Holden—”

“Jesus Christ, you pulled Holden into this too?”

Braxton glares at me, a clear sign to shut the fuck up, before continuing. “Holden found out about the testing from one of his buddies on Blackmore’s football team after a bunch of those guys failed theirs. I’d overheard him talking about when Leighton was planning to test us, and I figured…what better way to get de Haas out than that? So since I knew you had some leftover pills, I—”

Oh my God.

I drop my head back and slam my eyes closed.

“Stop.”

He cuts his words off mid sentence, then asks, “Do you want this fucking story or not?”

I do. I really fucking do, but as it’s unraveling before me, I can’t stomach to hear much more. Because I know what he’s gonna say. It all makes sense now, all the pieces fitting together.

He knew I had leftover pills from my injury because I rarely used them as it was. So he took them and framed Quinn for using them. Probably banking on a suspension, or worse, since he wouldn’t have a medical exception filed with the NCAA.

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