Trav runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head as if he is disappointed for the Parkers. “Good luck trying to peddle whatever bullshit your waste of sperm is trying to sell you.”
As a group, we step back, E slamming the door in both their stunned faces.
“Explain. Now.” I round on Trav.
He looks around, but no one seems to know what he was talking about.
“Shit.” He scrubs both hands over his face when he realizes this. “I can’t believe none of you have an alert set up for the UofJ411 Instagram. Or that you”—he smacks the back of his hand against my chest—“still haven’t charged your phone.”
He digs his own out of his pocket and scrolls until he comes to the appropriate spot. There, looping in a minute-long clip, is the moment when Liam Parker made the biggest mistake of his life.
#Chapter21
UofJ411: How is @TightestEndParker85 still alive after this? #DeadManWalking #CasanovasGonnaGetYou
*video of Liam stepping to Mason and Kay getting punched when she tries to intervene (only the overall noise of the party can be heard)*
@Rock_n_read719: Holy shit! You really going to let that slide @CasaNova87 #DefendYourGirl #Kaysonova
@Shenanigator: Talk about taking the rivalry to a WHOLE new level #NotCool #KeepYourHandsToYourself #CasanovaWatch
@Sjenkins31: This is a declaration of war #DontMessWithTheFlock
#Chapter22
A week may have passed since the drama that went down with Liam at the AK house, but campus seems to still be abuzz recounting the details, both true and exaggerated, of what happened.
The fact that Coach Knight and the guys were questioned about the footage now circulating the internet in their postgame interviews after the U of J defeated Wisconsin in the Big Ten Conference Championship in Indianapolis this past weekend is certainly keeping the story alive and well.
Even now, as I make my way from one lecture hall to another, my Hunter insulated knee-high boots making it easy to keep my footing as I keep my strides long, I can see the pointed glances and hands lifted to whisper behind.
Most of the bruising on my face has healed. There’s only one small spot still tinged a deep purple, the rest fading to an ugly brown and mustard yellowish color. Thank god for that, and for Bette’s professional makeup kit being stocked with heavy-duty concealer. I can’t imagine how much worse the gossip would be without it.
On my left, I see a phone held up—not discretely, I might add—and aimed in my direction. I tug on the brim of my new black U of J fitted cap, the hat a match to the one my boyfriend always wears—a gift from, you guessed it, the man himself—letting the curls I left hanging loose swing forward, making sure anything the makeup couldn’t hide is obscured as best I can.
After spending the last week recovering and generally hiding from all the things I don’t want to but know I need to deal with, it’s time for me to pull on my big-girl spankies and get shit done. That’s why today I made sure to wear my white Don’t flatter yourself, I only look up to you because I’m short tee underneath a fitted black and white flannel shirt.
Coach Kris still has me banned from The Barracks, declaring I need another week of taking it easy and to catch up on any schoolwork I may have fallen behind on when I had to avoid screen time those first few days with my concussion.
A group of co-eds loiter outside the doors to Jefferson Hall, and I curse my vertically challenged stature for making it harder to wade through the crush of bodies in my way. Normally I can handle the occasional jostle, but a rogue elbow or two could be damaging to my healing.
My spine stiffens when I see Adam’s smarmy grin amongst the crowd. I honestly can’t figure out his issue or what motivates him to be the douchebag he is, but he’s always rubbed me the wrong way. A lot of it probably has to do with the sense of entitlement he wears around him like a cloak, but I just genuinely don’t like him.
“Short Stack.” Trav’s voice washes over me from behind, and I grasp hold of it like it’s a life preserver and I’m a drowning victim.
“QB1.” I spin on my heel and wave. His typical playboy, lady-killer smile increases in intensity at the use of that particular nickname. There may be times when I’ll call him T, but with Tessa having claiming rights of