Page 54 of False Assumptions

With a sharp gesture of her hand, she cut him off. “Save it. I don’t want to hear it.” Stepping closer, she saw the muscles of his jaw tick as he clenched them, his blue eyes glittering like shards of glass. But she ignored all that, focusing on her own rage. She poked a finger into his chest. “I trusted you. I believed you when you said you wanted a chance. I gave you a fucking chance. Even though I knew you would end up breaking my heart. I knew this would happen all along. I’ve been down this road before, and now—“ she flicked the paper with her fingers—“here I am again. Nothing but a joke.” Her lips curled into something that was supposed to be a smile. “Stupid me. I should’ve known better than to trust a manwhore. Well, I’ve learned my lesson. For the last time.”

She spun around and headed for the door.

“You’re not even going to let me explain?”

With her hand on the open door, she stopped, glaring in his direction. “No. I’m not going to let you try to charm your way back into my good graces. Lose my number, Evan. I don’t want to hear from you again.”

She kept her back straight as she walked down the steps and out to her car in case he watched her. Inside, she was falling apart. But she wouldn’t let it out. Not where he could see. Not until she was home.

And then she climbed into bed and sobbed for everything she’d lost and how stupid she’d been.

Evan glanced down at the printout that Layla had shoved at his chest. It showed him, Romero, and a bunch of drunk chicks flashing their tits. Jesus Christ. He’d been so pissed when they’d done that. Everyone—including Romero, that stupid jackass—had assumed that since he’d come to the party, he was there to get laid. Despite his protests, his so-called friends had gotten him into the kitchen, then two chicks had held him in place while a lineup had flashed them.

“Take your pick, man,” Romero had said.

“Dude. No! What the fuck?” And he’d disentangled himself and found some sane people to talk to. He’d planned to leave right away, but got pulled into a conversation with Thompkins and Bolero about football, graduation, and everything else. By the time he’d left, it had been one in the morning, and Layla hadn’t answered. He’d assumed she’d been asleep.

But with this picture—that he hadn’t even realized someone had taken—he figured he was wrong. She’d been uncharacteristically terse on the phone when she’d said she was on her way over earlier. Now he knew why.

Fucking hell. He should go find this picture and untag himself at the very least.

But why bother? The damage was already done.

He balled up the picture and threw it at the wall as hard as he could. It hit with a light, unsatisfying thud and dropped to the floor. He wanted to throw things, break things, expend all his frustration and anger. At the situation. At himself. At Layla.

How could she just throw that in his face and walk away? Without even letting him explain?

He thought she had come around. That she trusted him. Didn’t hold his past against him. Apparently, he’d thought wrong.

“Are you okay, dude?”

Looking up, he saw Carter leaning out of his doorway wearing only a pair of athletic shorts, his dark skin still wet from his recent shower. Evan shook his head, a quick jerk, and fell back on the couch. “No, man. I’m not fucking okay.”

Carter took a few steps into the living room. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“What was she so pissed about?”

Letting out a sigh, Evan shook his head.So much for not talking about it.He gestured at the ball of paper on the floor by the TV. “See for yourself.”

Carter smoothed out the paper and let out a low whistle. “That’d be enough to piss off a girlfriend. What the hell were you thinking, man?”

Evan threw his hands up in the air. “Nothing! I was fucking pissed! Romero and a couple of the other guys organized it. I didn’t want a bunch of chicks shaking their tits at me. I’m happy with Layla! Or I was happy with her, until she dumped my ass. Why would I go looking anywhere else?”

Raising an eyebrow, Carter crossed his arms. “What were you even doing there?”

“Layla overheard Romero telling me about the party in the library last night.Shetold me I should go. And now I’m getting punished for it.” Evan let out a sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face. This fucking sucked. He hadn’t done anything. If he’d actually cheated on her, then sure, he’d deserve to get dumped and his ass kicked. But that hadn’t happened. And she wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain.

“Sorry, man. That really sucks.” He looked down at the picture in his hand again, then back at Evan. “What are you going to do?”

Evan shook his head. “I don’t know, dude. You heard her. She told me to lose her number. I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” Carter’s brows were raised in disbelief.

He had a point. Persistence was one of his better qualities. Would he really just let go without a fight?

He waited until Tuesday. Waiting out the weekend plus a day and a half of classes seemed like enough time. Not picking her up on the way to school on Monday was weird. He’d found himself halfway to her apartment when he realized he didn’t need to go that way anymore. At least not until he’d told her his side of the story—the only side of the story—and convinced her she’d made a mistake in breaking up with him.

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