#Hater (Hashtag #2) (9 page)

My eyes narrowed. I didn’t like the thought of any guy coming to her defense if it wasn’t me. I held in that little piece of info. I didn’t think she’d appreciate it. Besides, I was glad he was there. If he hadn’t spoken up, who knew what Zach would have done?

“He’s on the team,” I explained.

She sighed wearily. “Is there anyone on campus you don’t know?”

I smiled but pinned her with a serious stare. “You should have told me.”

Behind her glasses, her eyes rolled. She looked adorable standing there squished against the wall, in my shirt, her glasses, and a braid in her hair.

“It’s not your job to protect me, Romeo.”

“You’re wrong,” I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. “It is and I will.”

“You’re my boyfriend. Not my bodyguard.” Her words were annoyed, and I felt something behind them. But before I could question her, she kept going. “He was just being a jerk. I tried to walk away, and he stopped me. If I hadn’t fought against him, I probably wouldn’t have a bruise at all.”

I felt my eyes narrow as I spoke dangerously low. “Are you saying it’s your fault Zach treated you this way?

Letting her take any responsibility for this was something I would
not
allow.

She sighed. “I’m saying you’re being a drama queen.”

I laughed and raised my eyebrow. “Do I look like a woman to you?”

A fine pink blush spread across her cheekbones. “No.”

I took her face in my hands and tilted it up so I could stare into her eyes. “Listen to me. My reacting to someone putting their hands on you is not me being dramatic; it’s me loving you.”

“Oh, Romeo,” she sighed my name and my cock hardened.

I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her. “Being an asshole is just part of my charm, baby,” I said matter-of-fact, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. “This is just me loving you.”

“You love real good,” she mumbled against my chest, pushing a little closer.

I palmed the back of her head, holding her tight. It scared me how much I loved her sometimes. Just like the anger I’d felt just moments ago scared me. It was raw and intense. It almost bordered on hate.

And all of it… every single flame of that animosity was directed at one man.

I had been well prepared to leave it all in the past.

But those bruises on Rimmel’s body were not in the past.

And I wasn’t going to let them go.

Rimmel

I wasn’t a football kind of girl.

Learning different kinds of plays, positions, and what the heck the refs were signaling all the time wasn’t my strong suit. I’d much rather read a book. Or help an animal.

But dating Romeo opened my eyes to a new world. I didn’t so much as know anything about the game or how it was played, but I did enjoy going and watching Romeo and the Wolves on the field.

There was always so much energy at the football games. The cheering fans, the peppy cheerleaders, and the loud music all created a jazzed-up feel in the air. It was fun to go sit in the stands with Ivy and Missy, to sip hot apple cider, and it was pretty fun watching Romeo run around in those tight pants.

Even though my experience with football was limited, I thought I knew what to expect when the championship game rolled around.

But I had no idea.

During the days leading up to the game, the campus was more alive than usual. Signs and banners covered every available space. The school colors (navy and golden yellow) were plastered everywhere. Some people spray-colored their hair in wacky designs.

Girls walked all over campus with Wolves T-shirts and the football players’ numbers drawn on their faces with face paint.

More than half those girls wore number twenty-four.

I tried not to let it bother me. I mean, it was basically a school tradition to show support for the team. But why did most of the girls have to show support for
my
player?

But even with the girls displaying their affection for my boyfriend, the energy that crackled through the air was infectious.

The championship was a home game, and that meant it was happening here, on our turf (check me out, talking the lingo like a pro), and I was glad because it meant I could be at the game without having to travel to get there.

I hadn’t seen much of Romeo the first week and a half of classes because he was so busy with training, practice, and meetings with the team. In a way, it was good because it gave me a chance to get a good head start on all my classwork. On the first day, the professors usually gave us a course syllabus, and I liked to go through and see if there was anything I could work on in advance. I was a planner that way. I liked to really learn the material from each class, because it was quite possible something I learned now could save an animal’s life later. I’d already been able to outline a paper I had due in a couple weeks and get a head start on the research.

It was also good because it kept Romeo distracted. Distracted from Zach. I’d never forget the fiery look in his eyes when he stormed into the food court that first day. I’d never seen him so mad.

I wanted to be mad at his reaction to my not texting or calling him right away, but the truth was I couldn’t be mad at him for being who he was. I couldn’t be mad at him for loving me and being enraged that someone who caused trouble for him (and us) in the past was causing issues again.

I didn’t tell him what Zach said to me. He’d been so enraged at the bruises on my wrist he didn’t ask what Zach wanted, and I didn’t bother bringing it up. It would only make him angrier.

Besides, Zach was probably lying and just trying to cause trouble anyway.

Romeo needed to stay focused on the game. This could be a stepping-stone to the NFL.

“I think the entire campus is hungover.” I laughed as Romeo drove slowly through the parking lot toward my dorm.

The day before the game, all the classes on campus were cancelled. There was a huge pep rally for the team and about a hundred different pre-game parties going on practically all night.

We didn’t go to any parties. None of the players did. The game was too big to risk going out the night before and everyone being hungover. I did stay the night at Romeo’s place, though. I spent the night in his arms.

Everywhere I looked, people were stumbling around in oversized coats and hoodies. Some of them with sunglasses over their faces and most of them with giant-sized coffee cups clutched in their hands.

Romeo laughed. “Must have been some epic parties.”

When he pulled the Hellcat up to the curb next to my dorm, I turned in my seat to face him. “You nervous?”

He leaned the back of his head against his seat and looked at me. “Nah.” His lopsided grin was infectious. “I got my good luck charm,” he said and pulled the dog tag I gave him out from under his shirt.

“You don’t need a good luck charm because you’re a great player.”

He reached across the car and took my hand. “I know I haven’t been around as much,” he said, “but after today, my schedule won’t be so busy.”

“I understand,” I said softly. And I did. “Football is your life. It’s your dream.”

He made a sound. “You’re just as important to me.”

I smiled. “I have to admit I won’t be upset when this game is over and all the girls around here stop wearing your number all over their bodies.”

His white teeth flashed. “Is someone jealous?”

I snorted.

His smile grew wider.

“Maybe a little,” I admitted.

He lunged forward and in seconds had me in his lap, my legs straddling him so we were face to face. He buried his hands in my tangled disaster of hair.

I admit I hadn’t even brushed it when we got out of bed this morning.

“You’re my favorite girl,” he whispered.

“I better be your only girl.”

He smiled. “That too.”

Romeo brushed his lips over mine. The first contact sent goose bumps racing across my skin. Our lips met again and again, stroking against each other and creating sizzling friction that brought forth a hungry need deep in my belly.

As we kissed, his thumbs drew lazy circles across the sides of my jaw and I sank farther and farther into his warmth.

Eventually, he pulled back and glanced at the dash. He groaned. “I gotta go. I can’t be late to the field. Coach would have a heart attack.”

I leaned my forehead against his. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks, baby.” He stroked the side of my head, and I wished fleetingly that I had brushed my hair so it was silky soft for his hand.

He reached into the center console of the car and pulled out a white envelope. “Here’s your ticket into the stadium. Missy and Ivy’s too.”

I took the envelope and smiled. “Thanks for getting us good seats.”

“Thanks for coming and cheering me on.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll see you after,” he said. “And tonight we’ll party at my place.”

After one last kiss, I climbed out of his lap and onto the sidewalk. It was freezing outside, and I made a mental note to put on as many layers as I could or I’d be a Popsicle before halftime.

Why they hadn’t made the indoor stadium large enough for games was beyond me. Romeo said it was too small so it was just used for practices.

It was still early. I had a few hours before I needed to be at the game, so when I got upstairs to my room, I decided I would shower now and get some studying in while my hair was air-drying. The room was very dim when I walked in. I crept toward my bed and glanced over at Ivy’s side of the room.

She was lying tangled in the blankets, one bare leg flung to the side and dangling off the bed, her face was buried in a pillow. All I could see was her blond hair, wild and all over the place. It actually made me feel better about the way mine looked.

She was snoring lightly and the faint smell of alcohol permeated her side of the room.

She was going to be so hungover.

As quietly as I could, I gathered up everything I needed to shower and left the room. Our shared bathroom was at the end of the hall. It was mostly quiet on our floor, with the exception of a couple girls looking a little worse for wear who were clearly stumbling into their rooms after a long night of partying.

The bathroom was large and basically divided into three sections. The toilet stalls were lined off to the right when you first walked in. As I followed the tile hallway past, I heard the unfortunate sound of someone throwing up the contents of their stomach.

“I’m never drinking again,” I heard her moan between heaves.

I grimaced and kept moving. All the way back was a section of showers. Just before the showers were a row of wooden benches, some mirrors, and simple tables along one wall.

I went to the very last shower on the end and set my tote and towel on the bench in front of my selection. I pushed back the white shower curtain and reached in to turn the water on. As I was waiting for it to heat, I hung my towel on a small hook just beside the curtain and pulled off my clothes, piling them beside my tote.

I kept a pair of flip-flops on my feet as I stepped under the spray. I’d never used the shower without my shoes. The idea of my bare toes touching this public floor made my skin crawl.

The water was hot, and I sighed in appreciation, ducking my head beneath the spray and letting my hair get saturated. I lingered in the shower longer than usual because it was very rare I had them to myself, but because it was early on a Saturday and everyone else was hungover, I got some privacy.

After I rinsed out my hair one last time, I shut off the spray and reached out to grab my towel. I stood behind the curtain to dry off.

I heard the main door to the bathroom swing closed, and I figured the girl who swore to never drink again had finally barfed up everything she drank last night.

After roughly squeezing the excess water out of my hair, I wrapped the towel around my body and slid open the curtain. The room was steamy from my ultra-hot shower and the air was moist and thick.

I dug around in my tote for a brush and began trying to comb through the tangles in my hair. The sound of a faint scuffle had me glancing around curiously, but I saw no one. I shrugged and went back to brushing.

When most of the tangles were out, I replaced the brush and grabbed up a bottle of moisturizer for my skin. Another sound, kind of like a heavy thump, cut through the silence, and I jumped and turned.

Still no one.

“Hello?” I called out.

Maybe the drunk girl was still here after all. Maybe she’d passed out and hit her head on the toilet.

When no one answered, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Still clutching the bottle of cream, I moved through the shower room to go check on the girl I’d heard earlier.

My flip-flops were still wet from my shower and they made a squeaking sound against the tile. As I walked, I glanced at the mirrors lining the walls. All of them were covered in steam from the heat of my shower. Suddenly, having the place to myself didn’t seem so great anymore.

“Are you okay?” I called out to her, not because I expected an answer, but because the sound of my own voice was preferable to the silence.

When the only sound that replied was the dripping of water in one of the nearby sinks, I started to feel like a giant chicken.

I mean, seriously, who got scared while taking a shower in a dorm full of other girls?

I thought about turning back to what I was doing but decided I really should check to make sure that girl wasn’t passed out.

The next to last stall’s door was closed while the rest were partially ajar. I tugged the towel a little tighter around me as a stray droplet of water ran down the back of my leg and over the back of my knee. I shivered against the creepy feeling it left in its wake.

There was some movement off to my right, and I jumped, gasping a little. I spun all the way toward the motion I’d seen and then laughed.

“Only you would be scared of your own reflection,” I muttered.

The mirrors in this room weren’t all fogged up from the shower, and the movement I’d noticed was me walking by. I couldn’t really make out all my features because I’d left my glasses lying with my clothes.

That would explain the slightly hazy look to everything in here.

Gah, I was losing my mind.

“Get a grip,” I said out loud, my voice echoing through the empty room. My feet slapped against the floor as I moved quickly to the stall with the closed door.

“Is anyone in here?” I called out and shoved open the door. It made a banging sound when it hit against the wall and the flimsy stall vibrated from the force of my meager shove.