Page 92 of Forever Cursed

Then you better freshen up on your American history...

Chapter Forty-Two

Chrissy

The door bursts open and then slams shut, startling me out of my skin. Turning around, I catch Rome storming off into his bedroom. I ready myself for the next door to slam, but it doesn’t come.

I can’t approach him now, even if I wanted to. One of the first things we’re taught in psychology is to not confront someone while they’re hot. They’ll likely say something they don’t mean because they aren’t thinking rationally.

So, when I hear the shower turn on, I pray to the universe he cranked the temperature as cold as it can go so he can simmer down.

With slow and methodical steps, I walk into his bedroom. The first thing I see is his phone on his bed, and the lock screen is a picture of me. Tilting my head, I recognize where the picture was taken, and my heart melts.

I’m wearing his red hoodie, chewing on a straw from the frozen drink I got at the movie theater, and my face is scrunched at him. I don’t remember him taking the photo, but I’m glad he did. The next thing to pop up sets my once-melted heart ablaze.

Fucking Malik.

I can’t see the message because his phone is locked, but my blood boils at the sight of his name. I’m not sure how Rome deals with that guy almost every day. I would have set him on fire by now.

I’m still not sure what happened yesterday. Rome hasn’t told me about the conversation he had with his coach yet. I wonder if it has anything to do with what Raina told me. Malik was acting stranger than usual, but I can’t say for certain. Nothing is clicking, and it’s frustrating.

What makes matters worse is that Rome is still lying to me. He doesn’t know that I know he’s still helping Malik with the play reviews. He told me he was going to take a step back, but he didn’t. That boy is going to push himself off the brink, and there’s only so much I can do to help him, to cushion the fall.

I need to see this message... but it’s against my code to break into someone’s phone—unless your name is Gwen. I can’t cross this line, especially because I’m his acting therapist. There’s a reason you don’t mix business and pleasure, and the fact that I want to protect him so fiercely is one of them.

Give him a chance.

With a long release of air, I step into the bathroom and rest my back against the sink. I listen to the sound of the running water hitting his body and flooding down the drain, contemplating making the first move.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I start, being as careful as I can.

No answer.

“I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

Nothing.

“Was it Malik?”

“Just leave it alone, Chrissy.”

“What did he say? Please, I just want to help.”

“As my girlfriend or as my psychologist?”

A sting lances my chest, radiating and spreading through the rest of my body.

“As your girlfriend who cares about you, who loves you.”

Silence.

“Okay, we don’t have to talk right now. But it would help you feel better. I can go back to my dorm and give you some space?—”

“Coach told Malik he knows I’ve been reviewing and making the plays. He also knows I’ve been helping the rookies. Malik found out, and now he won’t toss me the ball, which means my future as a football player has ended before it even began.” Rome pulls back the shower curtain, and I meet his tired gaze.

“There has to be a way?—”

He cuts me off before I can continue. “There isn’t. It’s this or...”

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