Page 63 of All That Glitters

I unlock the door and head inside, then freeze just inside the doorway. All of my roommates, plus Paisley, are in the living room. It looks like they’ve turned the entire place into a blanket fort complete with twinkle lights. The curtains are closed, so the room is dark.

“What’s going on?” I ask as I slide off my shoes and drop my bag next to them.

“This is an intervention,” Jasmine says while crossing her arms.

“A cozy one!” Saylor adds with a smile.

“You’re going to come in here and eat pasta while we watch Emma, and then you’re going to sleep,” Paisley commands.

I blink back fresh tears. All of my friends came together to do this … for me?

I slowly make my way into the living room.

“Pajamas first,” Jasmine orders, pointing to my room.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a laugh.

Once I’m changed and seated on the pallet they made, Paisley drops a weighted blanket on my lap, then sets a take-out box on top. When I open it and see my favorite dish in there, my heart skips.

“Did Jameson tell you about this?” I ask.

Paisley shoots me a meaningful look.

“He placed the order and told me what else to get you.”

“Emma and the blanket fort were our idea, though!” Saylor chimes in.

I stare down at the food, my throat tight.

Jameson is making it far too difficult to stay mad at him. And I need to hold onto my anger—it’s the only thing protecting me from being really devastated when he breaks my heart again, but worse.

Chapter thirty

Your Girl

Jameson Sinclair

I wake up to being jostled far too aggressively.

“Are you asleep or dead?” Nash asks in a dubious tone.

I shove his hand away from my shoulder.

“I’m a deep sleeper,” I grumble and rub my eyes. “Why are you waking me up? We don’t have practice or a game.”

“What if I said it was the next day and you were going to be late to class?”

I drop my hands from my face and scramble to a seated position, wincing when pain shoots through my knee. My fuzzy surroundings come into focus. I’m in our living room. The last thing I recall was limping in here, muttering something to Nash about the bargain I made and giving him my phone. I must have crashed right after. The exhaustion of the past few weeks combined with all the physical exertion of today must have gotten to me. I glance at our living room window and scowl when I find the sky dark.

Nash laughs. “I was speaking hypothetically.”

“More like idiotically,” I growl, and lean back against the cushions again.

His grin doesn’t fall. He plops an ice pack onto my knee, making me tense in pain again. Then he drops my phone onto my chest.

“Red texted you. Figured that was important enough to wake you up, since she was important enough to risk sitting out a season.”

I glare at him. “My knee is just sore. At most, I’ll miss a game.”