“I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need backup, I’d be more than happy to tag along. I’ve got nothing better going on.”
Her offer brings a slight smile to my face as I shake my head. “Thanks, but no.”
“All right,” she says, sounding dubious, “if you’re sure.”
“I am,” I reiterate.
“I’ll see you on Friday?”
“Yup.” Barely am I aware of Zoe walking away and leaving me alone. Instead of reading over the message again, I stab the call button and hold the phone to my ear. A pit the size of Texas settles in my belly as it goes straight to voicemail.
What the fuck?
Is Colton really doing this to me?
After six months together, it seems almost unfathomable. Anger crashes over me as I stab the red end button and hit redial. When it goes straight to voicemail for a second time, I realize with a sinking heart that he has no intention of picking up my calls.
He’s really doing this.
It’s as if he lit a match, threw it over his shoulder, and burned our relationship to the ground.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
Chapter Eight
Colton
With my elbows perched on my knees, I sit on the bench in the locker room and stare sightlessly at my clasped hands. They’re clenched so tightly together that the knuckles have turned bone white.
Did I do the right thing?
Or was it all a fucking mistake? One I can’t take back, because let’s face it, there’s no way to smooth over a situation when you break up with someone through text. That’s signed, sealed, and delivered.
Here’s what I know—relief flooded through me as soon as I hit the send button.
That’s got to mean something...right?
I straighten my shoulders, all the while trying to convince myself that I did what needed to be done. That, unfortunately, doesn’t stop the self-doubt from mushrooming up inside me. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole for handling it in this manner. I damn well know that Alyssa didn’t deserve this, but I also realize there’s no way I could have pulled the trigger if I’d stood in front of her and forced myself to look her in the eye.
So, yeah...I pussied out and shot her a text instead. And now, I’m acting like a little bitch by not picking up her calls or responding to her messages. She’s attempted to contact me half a dozen times, asking what the hell is going on. Each one has escalated in both tone and disbelief. I can barely stand to read or listen to them. Her pain is palpable.
A heavy hand lands on my shoulder and knocks me from those thoughts. Blinking away the melancholy, I glance at Beck as he loiters beside me. He’s already dressed and itching to leave, and here I am, sitting with a towel draped around my hips. I drag a hand over my face and attempt to pull my shit together.
“Everything good?”
The two of us have been friends since elementary school. We played on Pop Warner football teams together, then in high school, and now in college. Beck is one of the most talented quarterbacks in the country. He’s been breaking state and NCAA records for years. Even as a sophomore, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll end up playing in the NFL. If Beck had his way, he would enter the draft next year, but his father has other ideas. And in the Hollingsworth household, Archibald rules the roost.
I shrug off his hand. “Yup.”
My world is only imploding...no biggie. Although, it’s by my own hand, so I’m not sure if that’s something I can complain about.
“Then move your ass, and let’s go. Collins is having a little get-together. I need to chill out for a while.”
A party?
No, thanks. There’s no way I can deal with a large group of people right now. Not with all this emotion ripping me up inside.
“Go on without me,” I mumble, reluctant to reveal what’s really going on. “I’ve got some shit to take care of.”
He smirks. “Is that what we’re calling getting laid nowadays?”
It’s doubtful that will be happening any time soon. Instead of forcing out the words, I rise to my feet and yank a pair of boxers out of my locker before dragging them up my thighs. Joggers and a red Wildcats T-shirt come next. Once dressed, I grab my sweatshirt and athletic bag, ready to take off. All I want to do is go home and lick my wounds in private.