Brutal Obsession (77)

It wasn’t intense physically, but emotionally?

How much can we convey without speaking?

He returns with a washcloth in his hand. He sits next to my hip, and I start when he runs the damp fabric across my core.

“It’s fine,” I say quietly.

I rise and slip into the bathroom. Our stuff is packed and waiting by the door, so once we’re clean and dressed, we both head out.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I.

Willow leads me toward the party bus. Away from Greyson and the hockey team’s bus.

And you know what? At this point, I’m okay with it. I’m ashamed to say I’ve grown attached to him. I like his asshole behavior. I like when he pushes my buttons—and when I push his. We’re fixated on each other. We’ve been fixated, but now…

Per his father’s orders, we’re going to be putting distance between us—why not start now?





34





VIOLET





Willow rushes me after my first class. She almost crashes into me, skidding to a halt inches away, and drags me into the bathroom. She checks each of the stalls and then locks the main door.

“What the hell, Violet?”

I jerk back. “What?”

“What. The. Hell. Violet.” She glares at me. “You should give a girl some more warning before you go off script.”

I drop my backpack and shrug, helpless and more than a bit confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You going to tell me or just keep scolding me?”

“This.” She pulls her phone out and shoves it at me.

It’s a blog for the CPU Hawks. All sorts of athletic team write-ups, reports, and coverage of the games… plus notices put out by the publicist. Rebecca Dumont.

“We met with the publicist the other day,” I say slowly.

I click on the most recent post that went live twenty minutes ago.

Didn’t take long for Willow to find it—and then me. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find. I told Rebecca that the previous article posted in the newspaper was a complete fabrication. There was nothing to tie Greyson and I together except that photo.

Seems like now, their official angle is that the article is my fault. Again.

Just when it had been swept under the rug, they have to drag it right back out into the limelight.

She has quotes from Greyson and me—more from him, of course. And a few from his coach. Even Steele and Knox. They all conclude that I’ve been obsessing over Greyson and his rise to fame since coming to Crown Point University. That, yes, I have a history with him. We knew each other from growing up in the same town. And the accident that took away my career has made me bitter.

Me.

Bitter.

I stare at the words from Steele, and it’s just another confirmation that he and Greyson were messing with me. Figures.

I choke on a laugh. “This has to be a joke. Right?”

They say I supplied the story to the journalist. That someone close to me took the picture in Greyson’s house.

Everything tied up in a neat bow. My fault, my bitterness, my regret.

Well, he’s going to regret getting under my skin.

“It probably won’t be seen by many people,” Willow tries.

I shake my head and toss her phone back. I got backlash for the article that came out and was subsequently pulled. This is going to spread like wildfire… and there’s no one to take the heat off my head.

The only people who were able to smother the other articles had a stake in it. The Devereux name. This is all on me, put there by Greyson. And his coach. His teammates.

Fuck.

“Let’s get out of here,” I eventually say.

She unlocks the bathroom door and walks beside me all the way to my second class. I’m getting more attention by the second, and I hate it. Everyone stares. A guy steps in front of me and looks me up and down, then laughs. Like he’s judged me in two seconds and found me lacking.

I wince.

Willow grabs my hand and keeps pulling me along. “Ignore it.”

Easy for her to say. We part ways a half hour later, and I feel… marginally better. But the rest of the day is hell.

I slink into the library after my last class, intent on just getting through my work before going home. The only good thing is that most people don’t have my new number, and it’s been blissfully silent.

Greyson had to know this was going to happen. I’d be na?ve to think he didn’t play a part in this. He spoke with the publicist after I left the room. He got his teammates to back him up.

Fucking hockey team.

I force myself to leave the dance girls alone. I don’t want to drag them down with me. In fact, they should all just pretend I don’t exist until it blows over.

Greyson wins this one.

“No one wants you here.”

I glance up from my laptop. A guy on the football team stands at the edge of my desk, his brow lowered in anger.

“You all take opinion as gospel, huh?”

He steps closer. “Are you calling me dumb?”

No, but you probably are. I smile sweetly at him, hiding my grinding teeth. “Never.”

He leans down in my space, forcing me to scoot back in my chair to put some distance between our faces. “You fuck with the team, you fuck with the whole school. Got it?”