Page 83 of Who's Saving You
The phone continues to buzz as Nik sits on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the glowing screen, thumb swiping and scrolling, jaw tightening every time another score update flashes in the corner.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, half to himself. “That upset ruined everything. Dante’s gonna lose his mind.”
I scoff. “Dante, I should have known.”
His head snaps my way. “What’d you say?”
“I thought you were upset about the standings, but all you're worried about is your bets.”
His jaw ticks. “Noelle,” he says, his eyes flashing. I brush him off, grab my laptop, and crawl into bed. I ignore all the feelings that are reminiscent of the last time we were away together. I thought we were in a better place, that we were going to figure this mess out together, protect each other.
“You’re not going to get out of this until you actually step away from it all.”
“And you don’t know what you're talking about.”
Then his phone lights up again, vibrating like it’s about to crack in half. He curses under his breath, stands, and pulls on his jacket.
“Where are you going?” My voice comes sharper than I mean it to, but I don’t back down when he looks at me.
“Out. Just for a little while.”
I sit up on my knees on the bed. “You dragged me with you because I’m not safe alone, yet here you are runningoutagain.” I can feel the heat rising in my chest, my frustration boiling over.
He gives me a glance but says, “You’re safe. I wouldn’t leave you otherwise. Stone is right outside.”
I sit back down, turning sideways, away from him. “Whatever, Nik. Go win big.”
He stands where he is for a moment, but when I don't acknowledge him, he leaves. And when he does, I get up and open the mini fridge, taking out a bottle of wine. I pour and settle in to do a little writing. I need to organize my thoughts: what I know, and what I don’t know.
And I need to give something to my editor to appease her.
The glow of my laptop lights up the bed and the television, now on mute, flashes lights across the ceiling and wall. My last few weeks crowd my mind. Seems my world has completely turned upside down since meeting Nik.
The story of Saint Nik Papas is not what one would expect. It’s certainly not the one that’s been painted in public. But if the public were to know, would he still be loved?
An internal university memo I uncovered had redacted pieces of information telling staff to “limit press access,” “position as medical,” and, most telling of all, “ensure Papas is unavailable.” It wasn’t an absence. It was a cover.
I read it back to myself. Can I do this? Can I really turn this in, out him, and crash his life?
I close my laptop, nervous energy running through my veins. I’m at a crossroads because I know there’s something bigger here—we both do. It’s a scandal that’s been covered up by someone close to him. It’s a scandal that affected an entire team and changed history in the college championship world. And the people pulling the strings don’twant it known, and if I release even a part of what I know, it won’t end well.
On the other hand, there’s Nik. There was something about him from the start. Something that pulled me in, making me need and want to know more about him, even though I knew the image was a facade. I want to help him, I want to be there for him. If someone is out to get him because I asked questions, I want to fix it. And I want him to come out stronger. I thought we’d be stronger together.
But instead, he left. He’s still stuck in this other world, which he won't leave.
My eyes land on his duffel bag tossed open by the chair, and there it is, his game day jersey, dark green, worn for the entrance only, smelling faintly of him.
Before I question myself, I’m taking the jersey to the bathroom, stripping out of my own clothes, and throwing this on. I turn to admire myself in the mirror. It’s huge on me, hitting just above my mid-thigh. I’m not sure what reaction I want from him, but I want him to know I’m not turning and running. We’ve already proven our passion is what fuels us and now I want him to know it goes deeper than that. With each passing day I feel we take two steps forward, but then days like today, I feel we go back three. There are just so many questions left unanswered and so manywhat-nows.But I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want him to leave.
Time blurs until the hotel door clicks open again. Nik steps inside, phone finally dark in his hand. The small desk lamp is on, and I’m sitting on the bed, knee bent, leaning against the headboard. He freezes mid-step, his gaze locking on me.
The air changes instantly. His eyes drag over me, andthis, right here, this is the reaction I was hoping for. I want him tofeel.
“Noelle,” he says, his voice rough.
I finish the wine in my glass, then get up from the bed and make my way to the mini fridge, pulling out the bottle to refill. He tracks me the entire way, and I feel empowered.
“What are you doing?”
