Page 134 of The Off-Limits Play

“I’m sorry.”

Yeah, right. I’m sure she fucking is.

“This is bullshit,” I mumble, then let out this feral roar and yell, “Fucking bullshit!”

She tenses, resting her hand on her Taser while a couple guards move into action, stepping toward me like they’re trying to tame a wild beast.

I back away before they can get too close, slamming out yet another door and stalking to my bike.

Swinging my leg over the seat, I let it bob like crazy while I try to figure out what the fuck to do.

Dad doesn’t want me.

He doesn’t fucking want to see me again.

Johnson doesn’t want me in his house.

Coach thinks I’m not good enough.

Sienna and Zoey are fucking scared of me.

My housemates hate me, and…

And Nylah is too good for me.

“Fuck.” I shove my helmet on, then start the engine and scream out of the parking lot.

I don’t know where the fuck to go. It’s not like Football Frat can be home anymore.

I’m no fucking good to nobody.

Those words swirl through my head on repeat, taunting me the whole way back to Nolan.

I pass the town sign, my gut clenching as I try to figure out what the fuck I’m gonna do.

Should I even stay?

Where else are you gonna go? Back to California?

Fuck that. I don’t want to be anywhere near Johnson.

I slow at the end of the street, glancing to my right, knowing it will lead me to Nolan U—the place I’ve called home for the last two and a half years.

I thought I fit, but I obviously don’t.

With a soft growl, I turn left, gunning it away from campus and heading west, past the outskirts of town and onto the back roads. I hit the winding corners, lined with naked trees. Winter is on its way. It’ll be snowing soon. Any day now those white flakes will hit, and where will I be?

Fuck, where will I be?

The deep ache inside me starts to pulse and grow. I fucking hate this feeling.

I don’t know what to do with it.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, swerving off the road and down a gravel trail that will take me to a lookout point I’ve been to before. I bring chicks here sometimes. We make out. We drink. We fuck.

Nylah’s never been here, though. She’s different. She’s special.

She’s not yours anymore.

---