Page 75 of Blitz'd

But I wanted it too much to look at the signs.

My hand closes around my phone in anger. If I had the money to replace it, I’d throw it out of frustration. Instead, I do something far more dumb. I send off a barrage of messages to him, voicing my anger. If he wasn’t in this with me, he should have fuckingsaidsomething. He’s never had an issue telling me how he felt before. What was different this time? Thought he wouldn’t have access to fuck my ass? Hell, I’m so gone over Kerian, I would have taken his scraps just to be close to him.

My fingers fly across the keyboard, sending message after message of my outrage.

Me: ur an asshole

Me: u could have fucking told me I was wastin my time

Me: Why even ask if I wanted to eat if u were gonna cancel

After ten minutes of radio silence, I scoff and send off one more text.

Me: We never agreed to what this was but u could have told me u just wanted sex. i can handle that. No need to answer back i’m done

I toss my phone on my nightstand and go to my wardrobe for clothes so I can get ready for this party tonight. I had hoped Kerian would come with me so I wouldn’t die of boredom or be designated DD, but fuck it. Instead of being a wallflower, I’ll get shitfaced and chat up a hot girl or guy. Hell, I might get lucky tonight.

My stomach sours at the thought of being with anyone but Kerian. Even if he doesn’t feel anything remotely close to what I feel for him, I couldn’t just fuck someone else. I’m pissed off, but I’m not an asshole.

Vibrations from my nightstand have me dropping my clothes, rushing over to grab my phone before it shakes off the desk. My heart races, hoping to see Kerian’s name on my screen.

A lead weight lands in my belly when I see Russ’s name instead. Sighing, I thumb over the lock pattern and open my phone. Even though I’m pissed, his message makes me smile.

Russ: If I get too fucked up, take my phone. Tanya is mad at me. I will not be drunk dialing that girl tonight to get some pussy.

Rolling my eyes, I shoot him back a text.

Me: I gotchu

I toss my phone onto my bed and take a shower. The party isn’t for another two hours, but Russ and the other guys want to pregame at one of the frat houses some of the players pledged to. The party is on fraternity row, so after we pregame and chill for a bit, we can walk down to the Theta house to join the party.

The shit with Kerian is heavy on my mind as I shower, the water cascading down my back as I lean my head forward. It’s like the people I involve myself with keep making a fool out of me. First Megan, now Kerian. I can’t catch a fucking break.

I wash myself roughly, irritated that I can’t keep my mind off a man who told me he only cared about getting his dick sucked. Like I’m nothing but a hole for him. All those days he came over to lie down with me, to cuddle with me, doing that weird thing where he sniffed my hair before he went to sleep. There’s no way he thought I was just someone he could fuck, who would make him come.

Or maybe he’s a good actor.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I climb out of the shower and get dressed, heading to Russ’s room to wait for him. We shoot the shit for a while, delaying being around people for as long as possible. When Oakley texts and asks where we are, we head to my car so we can get this shitshow going.

When we walk into the frat house, we’re welcomed like we’re a part of their brotherhood or some shit. Honestly, after the shit with Kerian, it’s nice to be wanted, even if it’s just at a party.

Shots are poured and taken, beer pressed into my hand, even when I know I should cut myself off. My head gets more and more fuzzy, my inhibitions dropping.

By the time we walk down to Theta house, we’re all pretty tipsy, having a good time. As he asked, I take Russ’s phone from him as soon as we step inside and he pulls me to the beer pong table.

“Alright, assholes,” Russ says, swaying a little. “Me and my mans here are gonna beat all your asses.” He pats my chest and I wave like a weirdo. “Who’s up first?”

“Us,” says a sweet voice that I only vaguely recognize. One of the cheerleaders for our team steps up. She’s cute, tall—probably close to six feet—with brown hair tied in a bun on top of her head. Becca, I think her name is. “We haven’t lost a game yet.” She points to her teammate, an equally pretty, short Black girl with wide luminous eyes and her hair up in a coily ponytail. Mia, if memory serves.

Russ winks at them, but not suggestively; as if he’s letting them in on a secret. “Get ready for your first loss.”

“We’ll see,” Mia says with a wide grin.

We line up on our side and get the cups ready. People crowd around the table, betting on who will win. But come on, I’m a quarterback. No matter if I’m tipsy or not, I can throw a ball into some cups, no problem.

Becca and Mia land two shots in our cups back to back, giving them control of the balls again while Russ and I drink. But their next tosses miss, and it’s our turn. From there, Russ and I both make quick work of their cups, making shot after shot before they know what hit them. Both girls grumble good-naturedly every time we sink a cup, but don’t complain about getting their asses beat.

By the time we only have one cup left, Becca and Mia have resigned themselves to losing. When I toss the ball and it spins around the lid of the last cup, Becca bends and blows it quickly, making the ball bounce out and onto the table.

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