Page 18 of Die for You
I don’t. She’s already counted me out. I was never a contender to begin with.
“You know her?” Jeremiah asks.
I shake my head. “Doesn’t look familiar.”
He checks the time on his phone, glances back at the building, and grimaces. “Shit, I gotta go.”
“What about the girlfriend?”
“She can text me for a ride. Have a good one.”
“Yeah. You too.”
I lean back against the brick half-wall as Jeremiah Crowder disappears into the parking lot and takes off. With everyminute that ticks by that Aurora doesn’t emerge from the music building, the rage builds.
Every one of my mother’s boyfriends lied to her. Cheated on her. Starting with my sperm donor. A father who stuck around for about five seconds when he found out he was having a son until he realized that even a son wasn’t enough to make him stick with one woman forever.
What the fuck did Aurora think she would accomplish by lying? Probably thought she’d get away with it.
Finally, the doors to the music building squeak open, a line of students exiting as their classes let out. Aurora marches along in the middle of the pack, mouth clamped shut, refusing to talk to or look at anybody.
When she spots me waiting for her, her lids fall to half-mast. Her jaw clenches. She’s lugging a backpack over one shoulder and a stack of folders in her arms with sheet music spilling out. Despite my teeth grinding together, I reach for her backpack.
She jerks away. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m not touchingyou,” I seethe. “I’m taking your bag.”
“Well,don’t.”
“That thing looks like it weighs forty fucking pounds. You can hurt yourself hauling that shit around or you can let me carry it.”
She hesitates like she wants nothing more than to dump her burdens on me. Instead, she hikes the strap up further on her shoulder. “I’m good.”
For a girl with short legs, she moves fast. But I’m faster. I keep stride with her without breaking a sweat. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
The line between her brows deepens. Impossibly, she mirrors my rage back to me. “I don’t.”
She’s really going to lie to my fucking face. “So why the hell did Jeremiah Crowder show up calling you his girlfriend? Why does he have your fucking picture as his lock screen?”
That fast, the ire disappears from her mesmerizing brown eyes. She comes to a halt, a glint of fear etched into her features that makes my heart stop. “He was here?”
Shit. That washim. Her fucking ex.
I’m an idiot. I should’ve believed her over him. She said she didn’t have a boyfriend, but he obviously hasn’t gotten the message. Or let it sink in. He’s still got her picture on his phone like he owns her. He couldn’t exactly admit he was here to harass his ex, could he? “He’s the ex, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. That’s him.” Her gaze darts around the perimeter like she’s expecting him to ambush her any second. Never seen her like this before. I fucking hate it. Hate her being afraid of anybody when she has me. “He’s trying to get me alone.”
“We can help you, angel?—”
“And I told you to fuck off.” She rounds on me, that familiar ire blazing in her eyes again. “And don’t call me that."
There she is. At least she’s not afraid of me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it if she ever looked at me the way she did when she heard his name.
She stomps away from me, but I keep pace with her. “Let me guess: you recognized him from your nights jerking off to the NHL games and now you two are best buds? You saw some guy who’s good at shooting pucks into a net and now you’re in love like everybody else he fucking meets?”
I ease her to a stop by the elbow, forcing her to look at me. “No. Fuck that guy. I care way more about you than any of that shit.”
Hockey is all I’ve ever had going for me. Sure, I can land girls, but they never stick around. Only come back when they’re looking for a long, hard fuck. I picked sports management for my major because at least if I can’t make it in hockey professionally, I can spend the rest of my life coaching. I’ve been told my whole life I don’t have the brains for anything else.
