Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Malcolm!”
He opened the door, giving me a curious once-over. “Did you run here?”
I licked my lips, my chest heaving. I nodded…or I thought I did. I was too busy drinking in the sight of Malcolm in his pressed khakis and a light blue V-neck sweater. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d assume he was freshly showered and ready to start the day. But his eyes were red, and lines of worry etched his brow.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He shrugged off my apology. “Don’t be silly. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Actually, it was.” I stepped around him and into his plant-filled apartment. “Is Layla here?”
“No, she’s at class. I have to go soon too.” He lowered his gaze, wringing his hands nervously. “I’m not well-versed in the art of letting go. Please excuse my inadequate speech. I want to thank you first and foremost for being so…so kind. I didn’t expect to like you so much or to think of you as a friend, let alone dream you’d become more. You’ve been the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, and I’ll cherish these days for the rest of my life. I hope you—”
“Stop.” I sucked in a breath and released it, now that I finally had the lung capacity to do so. “Are we breaking up?”
“We’re not technically boyfriends, but…yes. We can’t be together, Jett,” Malcolm said miserably. “We can’t be friends either, and I’m sorry for that. An association with me is detrimental to your well-being and your career.”
“And that’s why you sacrificed yours? Was that for me?”
“I…”
“Why did you do it?” I pressed furiously.
He blinked as if confused by my reaction. “You have a contract. You’re a star. Everyone knows you’re special and the ones who don’t yet…well, they have something to look forward to.”
“Jesus, Malcolm.” I raked a hand through my hair and paced to the window. “My coach said you ‘fixed’ this. He said you have a crush on me and that someone’s lucky camera caught you acting on that and that I was a victim and—”
“And everyone will believe it.”
“But it’s not the whole story. I kissed you.”
“They’re less likely to believe that our attraction works both ways,” he replied in a small voice.
“But it does. You know how I feel about you,” I rasped.
He folded his arms, his lips quivering slightly. “Yes, but…no one will understand us, and that’s okay. It’s okay, Jett. You have to think of your future, think of your career, think of your dream. It was always going to be this way. Let’s say good-bye now. Please.”
I shook my head no as a wave of desperation unlike anything I’d ever felt washed over me. I wanted to melt against the wall, sink to the floor, and disappear. But he was holding the door open, and it felt like he’d twisted a knife in my stomach.
“No. This isn’t right. You want me to walk away like we were nothing and…and what happens to you? You’re a TA, Malcolm. They could accuse you of inappropriate behavior or—”
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted.
“What about the textbook? What about—”
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated. His tortured expression was the opposite of fine, but he was so resolute that I didn’t know what to do or how to make him hear me. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll get another shot. But you won’t, and I won’t be the reason your dream didn’t come true.”
“Malcolm…”
He opened the door wider and looked away.
My heart shattered in my chest. It literally fucking hurt. I stumbled into the hallway, tears clouding my vision.
I made it outside as the second wave of pain hit me—this time, like a ton of bricks. I leaned against a tree, swallowing around the lump of emotion blocking my airwaves.
What now?
Ty had asked me that last night, and it had seemed like a flippant question.
Today, it seemed like the key to the secrets of the universe.
CHAPTER 22
JETT
Less than forty-eight hours later, I was the talk of the town. So was Malcolm. I ignored the gossip, but it was hard to ignore the stares.
My friends told me not to worry…the chatter would die down, and they had my back no matter what. Randall told me I dodged a bullet, and my dad had returned to his usual spiel about money and real estate.
Nothing seemed to matter.
I was…lost.
I took solace on the ice, skating with headphones on to drown out my thoughts. The louder the music, the better. In the silence I looked for the cute guy with glasses, taking notes, and asking questions like, “What is net-front presence? Where did the Zamboni get its name? Which player made the most hockey scores ever?” And yeah, he’d say scores, and I’d correct him, and tell him they were called goals. And he’d smile that adorable smile that turned me inside out and—