Page 104 of Creed

“I’ll go shower, but I’ll order in food.” I shift off the bed and stand. “Thank you.”

I go to my closet, grab my shower bag and towel, and head to the door.

“I won’t jizz on your underwear… just your pillow and sheets.” Zac smirks.

“I’m sorry, I said that. You’re… just confusing.”

His smirk falls. “Soph sees through all my bullshit to what’s underneath. Doesn’t let me get away with being a douche canoe man-whore.”

His face looks so tormented before he hides behind what I now suspect is a mask—a mask that Sophie has seen through while everyone else is oblivious.

“She’s good people,” I repeat his description of Sophie, my throat thick.

His throat bobs. “She’s fine, don’t worry.”

Even though I know he’s saying those words to reassure and try to convince himself, they make me feel slightly better.

Chapter 31

Ollie

It’s Saturday evening, andI’m with Antonio and Miguel, trying not to lose my mind and worry. We’re waiting for a team to arrive who’s coming to help search for Sophie.

I pick at the sofa seam in the hotel suite as Antonio paces and talks to Lok on the phone. A knock on the door sounds, and Antonio quickly says goodbye to Lok as Miguel answers the door.

Four people enter, three men and one woman. One of the guys is bigger than Miguel; he must be at least six-six, his chest is like a tank, and his arms are like pythons. His dark hair is pulled back into a man bun. Another is the shorter of the three men, leaner, and looks like a surfer with blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. The third guy has close-cropped light brown hair, slightly shorter and smaller than the first huge guy. This guy stands close to the woman, and my eyes nearly fall out of my head as I shoot to my feet.

It’s averybad time and poor taste to fangirl, but I’m struggling to hide my shock.

Severyn Andrews is in the hotel room… ten feet away from me.

What the actual fuck?!I eek inside with a high-pitched scream.

She’s a songwriter-musician who has worked closely with Antonio, Lok, and several A-list bands. About seven months ago, though, she fell out of the spotlight. She’s a favorite of mine because the lyrics in the songs she writes areprofound. They always hit me right in the gut, and I instantly connect with them.

Her hair brushes her shoulders in slight waves, a rich caramel mixed with reds, browns, and blondes. Her gray eyes are warm and filled with concern and worry as she and Antonio hug.

“You need to rest more,” she says to him.

“I will again in a bit,mi amor.”

“Ryn,” the guy beside her says in a deep baritone voice, and Miguel nudges Antonio, inclining his head toward me.

I clasp my hands, trying not to wring them—I feel a weird combination of excitement, exhaustion, and stress while fighting the constant urge to burst into tears.

“You must be Ollie,” Severyn says, extending her hand. “You can call me Ryn. I’m Antonio and Miguel’s friend. This is Tag.” She motions to the guy, still stuck close, obviously highly protectiveof her. Next, she indicates the surfer-looking guy, then the behemoth, jacked guy. “This is Nexin and Rolf.”

I assume they’re her security team and force out a hello as the urge to cry hits me again.

Ryn steps closer and clasps my shoulders. “You hanging in there?”

My vision turns blurry. “I’m sorry,” I croak out.

“Don’t be sorry, Ollie.” She sits on the sofa and urges me to sit, too. “If it weren’t for you, Antonio and us wouldn’t even know anything was wrong.”

“Do you know for sure if somethingiswrong?” I ask with equal parts of dread and hope. I still hope I’m overreacting with all this, and I’ll gladly accept being called a drama queen if it means my friend is okay.

Nexin grabs a chair from the dining room table, straddles it, and rests his arms on the back. “How about you walk us through things, Ollie?”

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