Page 61 of Triple Play

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Then ran like I was the one pulling him under.

I gather my stuff. Head upstairs. Lock my door.

Wash my face. Brush my teeth. Try to scrub away the taste of him.

It doesn’t work.

I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Through the wall, I can hear Grant pacing. Hear something hit the floor. Hear his frustrated groan.

Good. Let him be frustrated. Let him pace holes in his floor.

Let him regret it.

Because I’m done being his mistake.

I’m done being the girl he wants when he’s lonely and runs from when reality hits.

Tomorrow, I’ll be fine. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to ignoring him.

Tonight, I let myself feel it. The hurt. The anger. The bone-deep exhaustion of wanting someone who keeps pushing you away.

Just more questions. More confusion. More proof that Grant Wilder will always choose running over staying.

And I’ll always be the one left behind.

Wondering what I did wrong.

Wondering if I’ll ever be worth staying for.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE INVITATION

Jordie

I catch her between classes.

She’s walking across the quad with her backpack slung over one shoulder, hair pulled back, looking exhausted. Like she didn’t sleep. Like something kept her up all night.

Someone, probably.

Grant came home from his “study session” last night looking like he’d been hit by a truck. Locked himself in his room. Hasn’t come out since.

Doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.

“Elise!” I jog to catch up. Deploy the full charm offensive—dimples, bright smile, the works. “Hey. Got a second?”

She stops. Turns. Those hazel eyes are guarded. Tired.

“What do you want, Jordie?”

Straight to business. No small talk.

“I’m throwing a party Friday. You should come.”

“No thanks.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

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