Page 82 of Only Ever You

And that scares the shit out of me.

A knock on my window makes me jump in my seat, and I whip my head to the side so fast, my neck pops.

Eyebrow arched, Asher stands beside my car with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

With a grunt, I roll down my window. “What?”

“I thought you said you were going back to the dorms.”

I nod.

“And I also swear you told me you don’t care about Isla.”

I fidget in my seat—not because of his words, but because her name doesn’t belong in his mouth.

Chin lifted, I glare at him. “What’s your point?”

“Having a staring contest with the girl you say you don’t care about isn’t the flex you think it is.”

“Fuck off, Vaughn,” I snap, closing the window.

He smirks and waves, stepping away from my car.

Without a glance at her, I back out of my spot and drive away. I haven’t even made it out of the parking lot before my attention drifts to my side mirror, and I find Asher climbing into the passenger seat, giving her a quick side hug. It shouldn’t sting this much to see him touch her, but it does because that used to be me. Teeth gritted, I fix my focus on the road. It doesn’t matter. They are old friends catching up. Nothing more.

Have they seen each other since she moved away? I haven’t asked Asher, but it’s clear they stayed in touch. How close are they? How much does he know about her life? Each question is like another weight pushing me down. Ugh. It shouldn’t matter. His friendship with her is not my concern.

It is not my concern.

With a shake of my head, I breathe in and out, regulating my heartbeat. I banish all thoughts of her from my mind and focus on tomorrow’s practice instead. My slapshot has been a bit loose lately. I’ve got to fix it if I want to win the championship this season and especially if I want to show the Phantoms they made the right decision when they drafted me. I can’t afford to be distracted.

My phone buzzes as I park outside the dorms. I turn the engine off and then pull the device out of my pocket. When the screen lights up, I groan.

DNR:

Hi, handsome. It’s been a while. How are you?

I stare at the message, my jaw ticking. Sienna is relentless, I’ll give her that, but she’s also kind of pathetic. I never dated her, never even kissed her again after that night at the Harvest Ball. Eventually, she backed off. Mostly. She stopped hovering around me every second, but she didn’t disappear completely. Sometimes, I think she wants to make sure I don’t forget she exists.

Which is unnecessary. I couldn’t forget her even if I tried.

Not because she matters, but because when my life spun out of control, she was at the core of every issue. My own personal butterfly effect. If that stupid almost-kiss at Jones’ birthday party hadn’t happened—if I’d stopped it from happening—then maybe the rest wouldn’t have fallen apart the way it did.

I don’t blame Sienna, but I’ll always blame myself for not saying no.

I should’ve never let her kiss me.

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I exhale deeply. Then, I get out of my car and head to the dorms. I have a paper due on Wednesday, so I need to work on it before I go for a ride. Everything else can wait.

I wake up before my alarm. My phone shows it’s 5:40. I fall onto my back and groan. I didn’t go to bed until midnight, so why the fuck am I up so early?

I turn onto my stomach and bury my face in my pillow. My alarm isn’t set to go off for another hour, so I shut my eyes and even out my breathing. I breathe in for one, two, three, four. Then, I hold it while counting to seven and let it out while counting to eight. It’s a trick my mom taught me to do when my anxiety flares like this. Usually, it helps, but not today.

My brain wanders to last night. I stayed in the suite until just before ten, when Asher finally got home. He was in a good mood, as usual, a smile playing on his lips. Nothing about him was different, but dark thoughts crawled into my mind anyway. The possibility that something happened between him and Isla gnawed at me. What if they aren’t just friends?

I snap my eyes open and turn onto my back. This is fucking ridiculous. I’m getting all worked up over nothing.

With a huff, I roll out of bed and stumble to my closet. I throw on a pair of black sweatpants and a black tee, creep into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. My hair sticks out in every direction, so I run my fingers through it. It doesn’t do a whole lot of good, but it isn’t so obvious now that I spent the whole night tossing and turning.