Page 110 of The Wrong Play

“I swear, I hadnothingto do with this. I was at dinner, I came back, and my entire room was full of strangers! I told them to leave, but no one listened. Please, Ican’tget kicked out—I have nowhere else to go!” My shoulders shook as I swiped at my face, completely humiliated but unable to stop myself.

The shorter officer shifted uncomfortably. “Uh?—”

The taller one sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Damn it.”

The RA, who had arrived just in time to witness my breakdown, crossed her arms, eyeing me with something almost like sympathy. “She’s right. I’ve never had trouble with Riley before. She’s not the kind to throw a party.”

The taller officer let out another sigh, looking more tired than annoyed now. “Fine. But if anything like this happens again, you’re out. No warnings next time.”

I nodded rapidly, still sniffling. “Itwon’thappen again. I promise.”

“All right,” he muttered, shaking his head and mumbling something before he and the other officer turned around and left.

I slumped onto my bed, rubbing my temples. Falling back, I winced when I felt something wet, and I remembered that someone had spilled beer all over my sheets.

I exhaled sharply, staring up at the ceiling, my mind spinning.

At least beer-stained sheets could be fixed.

Too bad I couldn’t say the same for the rest of my life.

CHAPTER 19

JACE

Something was off. I felt it the second I dropped into my seat, the sense of something missing settling over me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

Not because of anything obvious—not because my gut was twisting in warning or because my instincts were screaming at me to pay attention. No, it was something much simpler.

She wasn’t here.

Riley was always here.

Parked near the window with her laptop open, pretending to be focused on something important while totally people-watching instead. I’d watch the way her eyes would flicker over the room, cataloging everything, catching every whispered conversation, every unspoken tension.

And the second I slid into the seat next to her?

She’d roll her eyes, let out that little exasperated sigh when I handed her the coffee that she loved, like my presence was an inconvenience, like she wasn’t hyperaware of me, like she wasn’t stealing glances when she thought I wasn’t looking.

But today?

Her seat sat empty.

I pulled out my phone, flipping through my texts, searching for something—anything—but there was nothing. No memes. No sassy insults. No response to the love-sick text I’d sent her this morning just to get a reaction.

A weird, unwelcome feeling crawled up my spine, slow and suffocating.

Had I done something? Had I pushed too hard? Said something to scare her off?

I frowned. She hadn’t been feeling well the last couple of days. I’d caught the way she yawned between classes, the way she rubbed at her temples when she thought no one was paying attention. Riley never admitted when she felt like shit, never let on when she was running on empty, but I noticed.

I always noticed.

A sharp pulse of unease settled deep in my chest.

I needed to see her.

Now.

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