Page 36 of Creed

It’s stupid, ridiculous even, that I feel hurt by that.

Iinsisted it was one-night only.Iinsisted we not exchange names.

He only knew me asangelorgood girl—and Christ Almighty, when I think of him calling me those names, I can make myself come quickly.

And I only know his first name: Creed, which is sexy AF.

So yes, I got what I wanted: one night of the best sex of my life.

However, the ridiculous hurt I feel won’t go away.

Creed could have tried to find out who I was. He could have done a bit of digging through the industry mixer connection—it’s not like getting a list of the students from the business school who’d attended is impossible. He could have tried if hereallywanted to.

But I repeatedly tell myself that it’s fine. I have goals and plans here; I don’t need to be distracted or derailed by some guy.

Yet, you have been for the past two weeks.

I turn my attention to Zac, trying to shove Creed from my mind.

“Maybe I’ve been distracted because my friend is acting like a dumb idiot.” I wince as I gaslight Zac.

“You’re so full of shit, Soph.”

When I open my mouth to protest further, he shakes his head, closes his laptop, and gathers his stuff. “Come on, we’ll head back to campus.”

“I’ll catch the bus back.”

“You know I hate that.” He frowns at me. “I make us come all this way; the least I can do is give you a ride to and from campus.”

“If we’re going to take the chance of people seeing us come and go together, then why bother coming here?”

I’m not Zac’s type—literally, since he’s attracted to males, but I also wasn’t the type of female he pretended he wanted—and questions only lead to more questions. For Zac, as someone who had become a master at modeling his behavior to avoid having questions directed his way whenever possible, I know our friendship and people finding out about how much time we hang out together makes him sweat.

“I’m such a dick, aren’t I?” He palms his forehead, the self-loathing back in his voice.

“I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t want to, Zac. It’s not like I’m desperate for friends.”

“You keep your circle small.”

I shrug. “I’m not an overly social person. You know that.”

“Yeah, and you got plans and won’t allow any distractions to them.” He bops me on the head as I do up my bag and sling it over my shoulder.

“We’re dysfunctional misfits, trying so hard to be functional, aren’t we?” I laugh. “That’s why we gel so well.”

“I meant it when I said you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had, Soph.”

I smile softly. “Like I said, we gel well.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, and he asks, “Are you sure I can’t give you a ride?”

“I like the bus. I’m going to grab a coffee, then I get to read my book. You know that’s really the only pleasure-reading time I allow myself, so I have you to thank for that.”

His laugh sounds genuine, and I’m grateful. “You’re more strict and stringent than my coach. You better not slack off, Demeanus,” he growls, furrowing his brow.

“You’re such a dork.”

“You know you love me, dork and all.” He looks at the clock on the wall beside the window. “Let’s go so you can grab your coffee and not miss your bus.”

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