Page 52 of Well That Happened

His hand fists the blanket beside him, every muscle drawn tight. He’s trembling—barelyholding it together.

And then—

BANG BANG BANG.

A fist hits the door, hard.

“Rilee?” It’s Hunter. Loud. Tense. “You in there? I need you—now.”

We both freeze.

“I swear to God,” Caleb mutters, voice strangled.

I sit up fast, swiping my hair off my face. “What the hell?”

Hunter calls out, “There was a scuffle and one of the rookies caught an elbow. He’s bleeding. Won’t stop. Think he needs stitches.”

Caleb flops back against the pillow with a low groan, forearm thrown over his face. “Of course.”

I stand, breathless, clothes half-wrecked. “I’ll be right there,” I call.

Caleb props himself up on his elbows, eyes still dazed with need—cock rock hard, glistening with my spit, and pointing straight up at the ceiling. “I’m going to murder that rookie.”

I bite my lip, trying not to laugh.

He’s still watching me, trying to hide the fact that he’s tucking himself back into his pants with a wince.

“I’m fine,” he says, biting back a grimace. “Just gonna lie here and reflect on all my life choices.”

I lean down, kiss his cheek. “Raincheck?”

His smirk is crooked. “Fucking yes.”

And then I’m gone—out the door, down the hall, into chaos.

Chapter Fourteen

Rilee

I check the mirror one last time.

Lipstick reapplied. Hair tamed. Cat ears back on, corset in place. Bite marks mostly covered.

I look… normal-ish.

Totally fine. Not at all like I was on my knees ten minutes ago and about to make a very bad (but totally hot) decision with my new roommate.

Downstairs, the house is louder now. Packed. Music thumping, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. Halloween lights flash orange and purple in chaotic strobe, and it feels like every head turns when I step into the room.

Hunter meets me at the base of the stairs, face tight. “He’s in the kitchen. Tried to shake it off, but he’s bleeding all over the damn place.”

I follow him without a word, brushing past people, ignoring the way a few of them do double takes when they see me. I’m sure I look wild—hair a little tangled, cheeks a little too flushed. Whatever.

Work mode, Rilee. Now.

We hit the kitchen, and sure enough—there’s a freshman sitting on the counter with a blood-soaked towel pressed tohis eyebrow. Two other players hover nearby, looking more panicked than he does.

I stride forward, calm and steady. “Name?”

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