Page 75 of Unloved

“You swear you haven’t had sex with him yet?”

I’m mostly teasing, because she’s told me already that she hasn’t actually done the deed with her hockey boy yet—which is surprising with the amount of time I hear suspicious noises coming from her side of the apartment, no matter the time of day.

“He’s really good with his mouth,” she’d said when I pestered her, and my full-body blush took a full day to fade. But even knowing how satisfied Rhys Koteskiy seems to be keeping Sadie, this isn’t the norm for her.

Trying to pester her for more only ends with her sniping back at me with, “I thoughtyousaid no talking about boys.” She waggles her eyebrows. “If that’s back on the table, you need to tell me about the Student.”

She asks aboutthe Student—Freddy’s name on my phone—because though she doesn’t know who it is, she has seen me texting the mystery person with a too-wide smile several times at Brew Haven.

My back stiffens, but she laughs, mumbling sarcastically under her breath, before asking me about tutoring Freddy.

“It’s fine. Easy.”

“I’m surprised he needs a tutor. Isn’t he sleeping with all his professors for good grades?”Ouch. “Or does he not have any female teachers to seduce this year?”

I want to chide her for the comments, but I feel unsure ofhowto do it. Instead, I settle on a quickly muttered, “Very funny,” as my mind races over the words. It isn’t the first time I’ve heard those kinds of rumors, but this is the first time it rips such a deep hurt through my heart. I feel protective of Freddy, as I always do, but there is a possessiveness there that I’m not ready to acknowledge.

But then Sadie’s phone rings, and our night of peace takes a hard left turn.

Sadie’s anxiety is palpable, even if she puts up a good front. We push through the throng of bodies, searching for Bennett Reiner, who is six foot six and broad framed, so it shouldn’t be that hard.

The second Rhys’s best friend called Sadie’s phone, I couldseehow desperately she cares about the hockey boy she claims is only a “friend with benefits.” She’s on a rescue mission now, shoving through people much more aggressively than I am, despite her much shorter frame.

Music makes the walls thump and gooseflesh spreads across my very exposed skin. It’s not like I haven’t worn something so revealing before; more that there’s a difference between my well-put-together “going out” outfits, and the blue and white silk shorts and tank pajama set I’m currently dressed in. Complete with a white ribbon tied through my thick, curly ponytail and the ridiculous white sneakers I slipped on without socks in our rush, I feel a little foolish.

And a lot out of place.

I see Tyler before Sadie does, tripping back a few steps subconsciously as his reddened brown eyes lock on mine. He shoves Sadie with his shoulder, and the back of my neck prickles as my fingers curl into fists.

If anyone can take care of themselves, it’s Sadie. But I don’t want her to have to—and especially not with this.

His attention never leaves me, almost like he doesn’t know he bumped Sadie.

“Nice outfit, Ro,” he snaps, his voice haughty and taunting.

I nearly flinch but manage to hold it back.

Stepping in front of Sadie, I send her off toward where I can see Bennett and Freddy hovering, though I avoid any eye contact with either of them, thankfully. I know she doesn’t want to leave me here—with a drunk Tyler especially—but from her demeanor after the phone call, something is wrong.

And she can deny it all she wants, but she likes the hockey captain—a lot—so after my second reassurance, Sadie reluctantly goes.

“What are you doing here, Tyler?” I ask, not really caring but knowing if I don’t talk to him now, he’ll follow me around and possibly make a scene.

SoberTyler would be mortified to make a scene, butdrunkTyler is always trying to start something. I stopped going out with our group from lab because he nearly got in a fight almost every night after one too many, and the pattern was exhausting. It was never fun, so that part of my college experience just stopped.

“Still throwing a tantrum, I see.” Tyler smirks, eyes grazing my skin as his fingers reach out to tug and snap at the thin strap of my tank top. The silk has too much give, and I see his eyes dart down to see my bare chest beneath before I pull back and cross my arms.

“If you wanted my attention—”

My skin heats, eyes burning a little at the implication of his gaze and smirk.

“Stop it. I’m not doing this—”

“I said I was sorry,” he slurs halfheartedly, tripping over his feet and crowding me into the wall, hard enough that his hip jostles the table to our left. I’m not short, and Tyler is only an inch taller than me, but he’s suffocating this close. My skin is hot, the back of my neck sticky with anxiety and frustration that I have no release for.

“Actually, you didn’t,” I huff, tucking a few stray curls behind my reddened ears. “A-and it wouldn’t even matter if you did. Now get away from me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ro.”

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