Page 58 of Unloved

Though I can’t remember the song now. Probably because my brain likes to play Ro’s voice saying, “I think you’d be really easy to love,” on repeat like a torturous soundtrack of the night she doesn’t remember.

A night I couldn’t forget, even if I wanted to.

Back at campus, we pile out of the bus and into the arena parking lot slowly. I thwart a few of the guys’ curious, worried glances at Ro with a quick shake of my head.

But everyone is kind. If anything, they’re concerned.

Ro looks around, lost. And although she’s stopped crying, her eyes are red-rimmed and watery as she looks toward me. The heartbreaking vulnerability there makes my throat tight.

The guys hang around, Rhys and Bennett closer than the others, all watching her just as worriedly as I am.

Coming to Waterfell might not have been my choice, but I am honored to play with my entire team—with the new exception of Kane. My teammates are good fucking guys who would take care of Ro if I wasn’t here. And she isn’t even my girl—she’s my tutor.

“Ro?” I ask, because there is panic bleeding into her expression.

“I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” She raises her arms helplessly, eyes darting around. “I… He has everything. He took everything—”

She’s working herself into hysteria. I quickly sweep her into a tight hug, one that she instantly returns.

“I don’t have my car or my student ID, not even my dorm keys,” she mutters into my neck.

“It’s okay. Let’s take my car. We’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, hugging her tighter as I subtly gesture over her head thatwe’re goodso my lingering teammates can go home.

“No apologies. Now, let’s go. I’m starving.”

I inch a bag of waffle fries toward Ro across the console as we leave The Chick parking lot—only after I scarfed down two grilled chicken sandwiches.

It takes a long moment before she finally takes the fries out of the bag. I even catch a hint of a smile as she spots the couple of pounds’ worth of special fry sauce, logging that reaction in my head under “Things That Make Rosalie Shariff Smile.”

I try to start a few mindless conversations with her, but Ro is silent. She’s somewhere else, deep in her thoughts. And I, better than anyone, know what being lost in your own mind feels like. So I let her sit with it all, as much as I hate how clearly she’s hurting.

“Cool About It” by boygenius plays softly while I slowly weave through the backstreets, taking the long way back to campus. Even with the soothing guitar riff and warm voices, tension pulls my muscles tight.

“Do you want to talk—”

“No,” she says. It isn’t cruel, just a quiet rejection.

It doesn’t matter. It hurts just as much.

I clear my throat, and then say, “I was in love with someone, too, who treated me bad. And…” I huff a bitter laugh, gripping the steering wheel harder to keep my voice steady and soft.

“But she didn’t love me. She never said it back—fine, but she held that shit over my head. And it worked. I wanted her to think about me all the time, like I did her. I would do anything for it. And it took me way too long to really see what she was doing to me.”

Ro doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her rapt attention like a spotlight heating the side of my face.

“And it wasn’t until we weren’t together anymore. And I felt so ridiculous and stupid… and embarrassed. And she was fine, because she didn’t care.”

“It was fun, Freddy. But that’s not… You’re not what I need.”

I shake my head in a poor attempt to clear her voice from it.

“Why…” Ro starts, her voice raw and scratchy before she clears it and sips her Diet Coke. “Why are you telling me this?”

To look like an idiot, clearly.

---