Page 22 of Secret Obsession
I gasp, sparing a split second to be thankful that I ordered it iced, but then it registers that my coat is soaked. Brown spots hit my boots.
She doesn’t even stop—she’s gone before I can call out her name.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
No problem. No problem at all.
Once I’m in the admin building, where my Crime Fiction class is located, I shed my coat and duck into the closest bathroom to pat it dry. I’m at the sink, my head down, when someone knocks into me from behind. I barely manage not to fall over.
“Oops,” a sugary voice says.
I meet the eyes of a girl I’ve never seen before.
“What’s your problem?” I try not to snap.
She goes to the far sink and holds her hand under the automatic dispenser. The foaming soap squirts into her hand. She waits a second, then does it again.
“If you’re the reason we don’t make the playoffs, we’ll be coming for you.”
She strides toward me.
I should see it coming, but I don’t. I guess I just didn’t think that girls would bethatbitchy. But she takes her handful of soap and smears it into my hair.
Her lips curl in a smirk, while all I can do is stare at her in shock. Did she really just do that? The foamy suds run down my short hair, dripping onto my shirt. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching from the ceiling.
“That’s for hurting Knox,” she says, leaning toward me.
“What?” It doesn’t really sound like my voice.
“You toyed with him. Used him. How could you do that, when there were plenty of girls who would’ve loved to actually date him?” She wipes the remaining soap in her hand on my shirt and passes me, knocking her shoulder against mine. “You break up with a hockey player, breakhisheart, and there are consequences.”
The door swings shut behind her, and I choke on a disbelieving laugh.
She thinks I broke up with him?
Is that why I’ve been getting weird glares all day?
After doing some damage control that leaves me with a wet shirt and hair, I leave the bathroom. Halfway down the hall, I realize I forgot my coat. My cheeks burn as I backtrack and snatch it from the counter. I’m not going to miss a class because some girls are being assholes.
Now I’ve got a point to prove.
I make it to class on time and slip into a seat toward the back, trying to discreetly rub at the wet spots on my clothes. People give me a wide berth. Even the professor casts an odd look in my direction. But they begin class without delay, and I let out a slow breath.
An hour later, I’ve decided what I need to do.
Knox was messing with me while he dated me—but surely he’s not going to carry a grudge this long, right? He won’t feed into the madness…
Oh, wait. He’s Knox Whiteshaw.
Of course he’ll fucking feed into it. Especially since, this way, he gets some sympathy sex out of it.
I grind my teeth together, refusing to let my brain wander toward him in the bedroom with puck bunnies. One, two, multiple. Should I even put it past him to invite a few girls into his bedroom?
“Willow!”
I flinch automatically.
Violet stops in front of me, frowning at my shirt. “What on earth happened to you?”
