Who Falls Hardest (Clearwater University)

Oh fuck.

We didn’t close it when we burst into the bedroom, too lost in each other and our desperate need.

And while we were busy having loud, wild sex, one of the other Icons must’ve gotten home.

He heard everything.

It’s not like this is supposed to be a secret. Just last night, they all agreed to let me explore things with each of them. But I can’t help but wonder what whoever is out there in the living room is thinking right now.

And I can’t help but wish he would’ve come in and joined us.

10

Trent

“Reese! I’m gonna… oh, fuck, I’m gonna…”

I grit my teeth, digging my pen into the paper harder than necessary as I take notes in my Comparative Politics class. I’m barely absorbing anything Professor Simms is saying. Instead, the sound of Emma’s breathless scream keeps echoing in my head.

It’s been a few days since I came home from class and heard her and Reese fucking in his room. We’ve all been busy trying to untangle the fucking mess Leslie made of our online lives, and I’ve been grateful to have something to focus on.

Something besides how badly I want to punch Reese in the fucking mouth, that is.

We’ve been friends for years, and I can admit I’m glad Emma has more people than just me on her team. It’s good to know that both West and Reese would go to bat for her in any circumstances. But that doesn’t mean I’m thrilled with either of them laying a fucking hand on her.

And fuck. The way she sounded…

Her breathless groans left me hard as a fucking rock. I stood in the living room, unable to budge from the spot as I listened to the sounds of her falling apart. Half of me wanted to step inside the room and… hell, I don’t even know what I would’ve done. But I wanted to make her scream like that. I wanted to shuck my clothes, pull her from Reese’s arms, and prove to them both that I could make her feel just as good.

Of course, I didn’t do anything. Just stood there listening to one of my best friends fuck the girl of my dreams like a goddamn perv. But I meant what

I said to Emma about letting this be her choice, and I’d die before I break another promise to her.

Everything is about her now. What she needs. What she wants.

More than anything, I want Emma to be happy.

“And that brings us back to the fundamental question. Why are some countries democratic while others become dictatorships? What are the determining factors?” Professor Simms asks, turning around to survey the class as he speaks.

As he does, I realize I completely stopped writing several minutes ago, lost in my own thoughts.

Fuck. I hope he didn’t say any important shit.

Reese and West aren’t in this class, which is actually sort of a relief. Things are tense between all of us, and even though we’re keeping our shit together for Emma, I can feel it every time we’re in a room together. I don’t know quite how this is going to go down—when Emma finally makes her choice, I know we’ll all respect it. But damn, it would be hard as hell to watch one of my friends get to be with Emma every day and still remain friends with him.

My stomach twists, and my pen jabs through the sheet of paper I was writing on.

Fuck.

I can’t let myself worry about that kind of shit right now. That’s something we’ll deal with in the future. For the time being, the three of us are still a united front, joined together by the common cause of protecting Ems from the crazy cunt who’s painted a target on her back.

Shaking my head, I tune back in to what Professor Simms is saying, managing to stay somewhat focused on class for the remainder of the hour. My notes are shit, a garbled mess of words in illegible handwriting, but whatever. It’s still early in the semester; there’ll be plenty of time to get caught up later.

As soon as class lets out, I’m the first out the door. That was my last class of the day, and I’m glad as hell that I don’t have to try to muster up interest in another boring lecture until tomorrow.

Heading across campus, I find my gaze straying back and forth to take in the people around me, unconsciously looking for a head of blonde hair.

She’s not here, asshole. Remember? You’re the one who made sure of that.