Page 24 of The Players We Hate
“I got some stuff to take care of. I'll meet you back at the house,” I called up, hoping they wouldn’t follow.
I wasn’t in the mood for distractions. Not when I already knew where I was going.
The air outside bit through my clothes, sharp and cool as the sun dipped behind the buildings. I pulled my hood over my head and walked with purpose, cutting across the quad with my hands buried in my pockets.
I didn’t plan my route, and I didn’t have to either. My feet knew where to go.
Her building came into view as the streetlights blinked on. Pale orange glow spilled across the walkway as the front doors opened.
And there she was.
Stepping out like she hadn’t flipped my world upside down a week ago.
Her coat was cinched at the waist, her hair pulled back in a sleek twist that made her look elegant. She walked with her chin high and her steps precise, as if nothing could reach her.
Then a black SUV rolled up to the curb. The driver stepped out and opened the back door without a word.
She didn’t even glance back before climbing in. Some arranged event to keep up appearances or dinner with her parents, maybe.
What mattered was that she wasn’t there. I lingered outside for a while, long enough to see Alisa slip out with a group of girlfriends. One look at her outfit told me she was headed to the football parade, which meant their room was clear.
No witnesses. No questions.
The front steps were empty, the doors wide open as a group of students spilled out, laughing and dragging backpacks behind them. I slipped in unnoticed, nodding casually at a guy in an RA jacket loitering near the security desk.
I hesitated long enough for him to glance up.
“Hey,” I said, flashing the easy grin I saved for the cameras. “Sorry to bug you. My teammate left his charger in a room upstairs, said it was an emergency or something. Mind if I run up to get it real quick?”
The guy frowned, tapping his pen against the desk.
“Which room?”
“Uh…” I stalled, blurting out the first number that came to mind. “Three-ten.”
I only knew which door was hers because I’d helped Alisa haul boxes when she moved into the dorm. Back then, I hadn’t realized she was Wren’s roommate. I never thought that small detail would matter until now.
The RA paused, then shrugged like he couldn’t be bothered to care.
“Be quick,” he said, reaching into a drawer and sliding over a key card. “Bring it right back.”
“Appreciate it, man.”
I took the card before he could change his mind and made my way to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time.
The third floor smelled of citrus-scented cleaner and cheap floor wax. A vending machine hummed near the end of the hall.
I paused outside the door I knew to be Alisa’s room. I hadn’t expected it to be this quiet. This easy.
I slid the card into the lock, waited for the soft click, then slipped inside.
The room was dim, with only a little light slipping through the sheer curtains. It smelled of warm vanilla, maybe her shampoo. The scent hit me before I could brace for it.
I closed the door quietly, letting my eyes adjust. Her side of the room looked untouched, almost staged. A cream throw was folded at the foot of the bed, with decorative pillows stacked in order. The lamp on her desk was dark, but the gold accents still caught the light—pens lined up, a leather notebook with a ribbon, and a framed photo turned face down behind a pile of textbooks.
It didn’t feel staged. It felt... lonely.
I stepped farther in, my footsteps muffled by the rug in the center of the room. Every move sounded too loud. I didn’t even know what I was after—proof there was more to her than the polished front. Something I could hold on to if it ever came down to me against her father.
