Page 65 of Creed

“Of course, I’m obsessing over it; it’s worth my entire grade in the class.”

“No, take a break,” she whines, reaching for my hand when I turn back to my laptop. “Tell me about your secret friend and why you aren’t fucking him.”

“Who says I’m not?” I grumble.

I haven’t been successful in keeping it from Ollie or Zac that I have a 'secret friend.’ They both refer to it as a mystery love, and I downplay it as much as possible while keeping Creed’s identity a secret.

“Isay you’re not getting laid. I can tell. It’s like my sixth sense.” She crosses her arms behind her head and staring at the ceiling. “Come to the party tonight. You know it will be epic—a bash right before spring break kicks off.”

“Nope.”

“Well, at least take a break now, and let’s go to the coffee shop across from campus. I know you love their cheesecake, and I can have a pre-game drink there to get me started.”

“I can’t, Ollie.” I rub my forehead, staving off the headache brewing from my neck and shoulders being hunched for so long.

“Dammit,” she groans, long and drawn out, and rolls off my bed. “The school year is almost over, and I failed.”

Her pout makes me laugh. “Because you never succeeded in reforming me into a party animal?”

“You’re not even a party slug, girl.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Sheesh, what’s worse than a slug?”

“Exactly,” she huffs. “See what I’m working with here?”

I shoo her with my hand.

“Fine.” She does a slow, exaggerated stomp toward the door. “I’m going to see Bob, the nerdy guy with the giant cock. At least he parties with me.”

“See, that’s why I’ve resisted all your efforts to party with you. You just want to use me for sex.”

Her eyes widen, and she sputters, realizing what I said, then laughs when I throw her textbook back at her. “Bob would be game if you wanted to join. He really does have more than enough cock to go around. Okay, I’m fucking kidding!” she shrieks as I launch more textbooks at her, and they thud against the door as she jumps out of the way.

“Bye, Killjoy.” She wiggles her fingers at me. “Love you a lot.”

“Bye, Pep-Rally. Like you a little. Have fun and stay safe tonight.”

“I’ll see you before I head out for the weekend tomorrow morning.”

Ollie, like me, isn’t heading anywhere for spring break, but she’s taking the weekend off, at least.

She leaves, and I gather my stuff to head to the library to work. As the evening approaches, the dorm will get livelier with people pre-gaming before they go to the frat party or wherever else they’re heading.

My phone rings, and my heart hammers, thinking—okay,hoping—it’s Creed. We've talked daily for the past two months since that night in the hotel suite, keeping things strictly platonic. It’s painful and agonizing trying to ignore that I want him more than just a friend, especially knowing he feels the same. But the alternative—losing him entirely—is too unbearable even to consider.

The call isn’t from Creed, though; it’s Zac on a video call. I connect the call, my brow pinching as I struggle to figure out what I’m looking at.

“Sorry, Soph,” Zac mumbles. The phone shifts and his face fills the screen. He’s wan and his eyes are bloodshot.

“Are you high, Zac?”

“Just some hits off a joint,” he mutters.

I pinch my brow. “What the hell are you doing? If you’re undermining your chances for continuing to play football—”

“Pot is legal in California, and the NFL has loosened up on players using a bit, and they don’t test between April and August.”

I know he’s struggling since his breakup with Russ, but still. He’s been hitting the booze and pothardlately.

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