“Are you heading to the game?” The question tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Guilt flickers in his eyes. If I hadn’t asked, he probably wouldn’t have mentioned it. I can appreciate that he doesn’t want to rub salt into a fresh wound. Rowan is a good friend. One of the best I’ve made at Western. I have a shit ton of acquaintances. And there are a lot of people who want to hang out with me because of my status on campus. Sometimes it can be difficult to ascertain who actually likes you for the guy you are and the ones who are there because of your position on the team. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always downplayed who my father is. I saw the way people reacted when I was a kid, and when he coached my football teams. Or in high school when he would show up to the games. Since we don’t have the same surname, most people at Western don’t realize that I’m Jake Winchester’s son.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go or not.”
“Actually,” I say, making a split-second decision, “I do.” It’s probably one I’ll end up regretting in the not-so-distant future.
His brows rise. “Really?”
I jerk my shoulders. “Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I shouldn’t show up and support her and the team.”
Rowan nods as he studies me. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”
Yeah, well...that’s doubtful, but who knows?
Maybe afterward we can sit down and finally hash shit out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brayden
As soon as I walk through the door of my accounting class, I glance around to see if Sydney has beat me here.
Nope. She’s nowhere to be seen.
After the way she evaded me last night, it’s not a total surprise. Although, it does irritate the crap out of me. I don’t understand what her deal is. She and Ethan are still on speaking terms and they went out for half a year. We were together for way less than that, and I’m like a communicable disease she’s deathly afraid of contracting.
Her behavior doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. This isn’t the same Sydney I’ve gotten to know over the last three years. That girl is brash and doesn’t skulk around, hiding from anyone. And yet, that’s exactly what she’s doing.
It’s tempting to confront her and talk out our issues for no other reason than to move past them. I’m constantly searching for her around every bend and corner. There are going to be times when we’re forced to come into contact. Our roommates are still going strong without an expiration date in sight.
And you know what?
Good for them.
No, really. Good for fucking them. I hope they live happily ever after. They can get hitched and populate the world with little Demis and Rowans.
I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose before inhaling a deep breath. The urge to slam my fist through the wall thrums through me. It takes effort to shake off the fury attempting to take root deep inside. I haven’t felt this out of control of my emotions since my father died.
That’s not a place I want to find myself ever again.
My eyes snap open when Dr. Millhouse shuffles around a few papers at the podium before clearing his throat and launching into today’s lecture. I take another inconspicuous peek around the room, surprised to find that Sydney is a no-show. Have we seriously reached the point that she’d rather fail a class than be in my general vicinity?
A mixture of disbelief and anger crashes over me. It’s almost enough to stomp out the hurt flooding through my veins. Even before we dated—fake or otherwise—she didn’t go to such great lengths to avoid me.
A full five minutes tick by before the classroom door creaks open and Sydney slinks into the small lecture hall. There’s a pink ball cap pulled low over her eyes, which makes it impossible to get a good look at her face. But still...I know it’s her. The moment she stepped inside the room, my body went on high alert, vibrating like a live wire. No matter how much distance she attempts to place between us, the gravitational pull I feel for her refuses to be denied. I don’t understand how emotions this strong can be one-sided.
Doesn’t she feel it as well?
Once she’s settled as far as she can possibly get from me, Sydney pulls out her laptop and fires it up before staring straight ahead as if she’s hanging onto every syllable that comes out of Millhouse’s mouth. Like it’s the most scintillating shit she’s ever heard in her life.
Let me be perfectly clear—it’s not. It’s boring as hell. Millhouse is yammering away about something that has to do with decentralized firms. I’d probably understand it better if I were actually paying attention, but that’s impossible now that Sydney is here.