Page 111 of The Wrong Play

I pulled up the app, tapping into the camera feed I’d installed in her dorm. The screen flickered for half a second before settling into focus, and my chest tightened the second I saw her.

Riley.

Sprawled out on her bed, lying so still it almost didn’t look real. Her body was curled toward the wall, one arm tucked beneath her pillow, the other resting limply on top of the blanket like she hadn’t moved in hours.

I stared, my grip tightening on the phone, waiting for something—anything—to change. To show that maybe she was just sleeping in.

But she was too still, too silent, like the weight of something heavy had pressed her into the mattress and refused to let go.

A tingling prickle crawled up my spine, my skin going tight, my instincts screaming at me that something was wrong. The longer I watched, the harder my stomach twisted, like a fist hadlodged itself beneath my ribs and squeezed. I knew Riley. I knew how she moved, how she curled and stretched and burrowed under the covers when she slept. But this? This wasn’t rest.

This was something else entirely.

What if it was her condition? What if she was having an episode? Fuck.

I shoved back my chair so hard the legs screeched against the floor, the loud sound cutting through the murmur of the classroom. The noise barely registered. My body was already in motion, muscles tensed, instincts screaming at me to move. My brain hadn’t even caught up yet, but it didn’t have to.

Because I knew.

The professor barely got a word out before I was halfway to the door, moving with a singular focus…my blood thrumming with urgency.

“Mr. Thatcher, where do you think you’re?—”

I didn’t answer, and I definitely didn’t slow down.

I didn’t give a single fuck about whatever consequence was waiting for me for ditching class. Because nothing in that classroom mattered. Not the lecture. Not the grade. Not the fact that football depended on me keeping passing grades. None of it.

Not when something was wrong withher.

I sprinted across campus like a lunatic, shoving past people, ignoring the weird looks and the muttered complaints as I bulldozed through the crowd. The pavement blurred beneath my feet, the dread growing with every step.

By the time I reached her dorm, my breath was coming fast, my entire body thrumming with urgency.

I didn’t bother knocking. My fingers curled around the cool metal in my pocket, gripping it tight, and I slid the key I’d made into the lock, turning the handle and pushing the door open in one smooth motion.

The room was completely silent.

Riley was still curled up on her bed, in the exact same position as she’d been when I’d first looked.

Pale. Unmoving.

Fuck.

I moved toward her on autopilot, dropping onto the bed beside her. My fingers grazed her cheek. “Hey, Riley-girl,” I murmured, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. “You decide that Ethics wasn’t worth it anymore?”

Her honey-colored eyes flickered open and stared at me with complete…hopelessness.

Something in my chest twisted, deep and unrelenting.

Fuck this.

RILEY

I knew the moment I drifted toward consciousness that getting out of bed today wasn’t going to happen.

Not because I didn’t want to—because fuck, Iwantedto.

Because Icouldn’t.

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