Chapter 9 : Colton

My elbows are perched on my knees as 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 huge fucking mistake? One I can't take back because let's face it, there's no way to come back from a breakup through text. That's signed, sealed, and delivered.

Here's what I know-relief flooded through me as soon as I hit send.

And that's got to mean something...right?

I straighten my shoulders and try 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 to be broken up through text message, but I also realize that I wouldn't have been able to go through with it if I'd had to stand before her and look her in the eye.

So, yeah...I pussied out and texted her instead. And now, I'm acting like a little bitch by not picking up her calls or responding to her texts. She's tried calling at least half a dozen times and sent a slew of messages asking what the hell is going on. Each one has escalated in both anger and disbelief. I can barely stand to read them. The 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 dressed and ready to get the hell out of here and I'm still sitting here with a towel draped across 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 high school, and now 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 Hollingworth 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 really sure if that's something I can bitch about.

"Then move your ass and let's go. Sanders 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 that right now. Not with all this emotion churning inside me.

"Go on without me," I mumble, unwilling 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 now a days?"

Yeah, 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. I just want to go home and lick my wounds. Sure, they're self-inflicted but that doesn't make a damn bit of difference at the moment. Beck and I are the last ones to leave as he pushes out through the locker room door. I follow behind, sucked back into my thoughts.

The whole did-I-make-a-mistake-or-not is eating me alive. The bitch of it is that I'll probably never know.

"Oh," he says, moving into the corridor of the athletic center, "hey, Alyssa."

My head snaps up at the sound of her name so fast that I almost give myself whiplash as my gaze collides with icy blue eyes. All it takes is one look at the fury vibrating off her in heavy waves to know that I won't escape this confrontation unscathed. I swallow down my growing nausea. This is exactly the kind of altercation I'd been hoping to avoid.

When she remains silent, lips pressed together in a tight line, Beck's quizzical gaze flicks to mine. Whatever he sees painted across my face is enough of a tipoff for him to abandon this sinking ship poste haste. Can't exactly say I blame him for it. I'd probably do the same thing if I were in his position. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder and takes a swift step in retreat. "So...I'm going to take off."

Instead of glancing at Beck, Alyssa's gaze stays pinned to mine.

"I'll catch you at the dorm," I mutter, dread pooling at the bottom of my gut.

"Yup." With pent-up longing, I watch as he disappears down the hallway like the hounds of hell are nipping at his heals.

An uncomfortable stillness crashes down on us.

One heartbeat passes.

Then another.

Now that we're alone, I mentally brace myself for the oncoming explosion. But Alyssa doesn't do the expected. Instead, she stares silently, scouring my face for answers I refuse to give. Hurt seeps into her eyes, mingling with the fury. A fresh wave of guilt crashes over me, nearly swallowing me whole.

Fuck.

It would be so much easier if she'd just go off the deep end. Then I could mentally shut down and tune out the theatrics while she got everything off her chest.

But this?

The silent recriminations aimed in my direction?

The pain that radiates off her as if it's a living breathing entity?

That's impossible to tune out.

How can I when I'm the architect of her agony?

When I'm the one to blame for giving in and allowing this to get so out of hand?

Ever since middle school, I've yearned for this girl. Longed to reach out and touch her. Be close to her. Make her mine. Although, she'd never know it from my behavior. I've done everything in my power to ignore Alyssa. To keep her at a distance. To push her to the outer recesses of my brain so I wouldn't have to think about her. So that I'd finally stop wanting her.

Dreaming about her.

It didn't work.

Nothing worked.

Even when I broke down and asked her out, I knew this is exactly how it would end between us. When it comes down to it, I can't give Alyssa what she wants. What she deserves.

No matter how tempting it is, I can't love her, and I refuse to let her in.

So where does that leave us?

Exactly in this place that neither of us want to be.

More than anything, I wish Alyssa had just been a fuck. One I could forget about. But she was never that.

Whether she realizes it or not, that's the problem.

"Why?"

One shaky word falls from her lips, but it's more than enough. It's like a burning arrow shot right through the center of my heart.

Even though it's tempting to look away, I force myself to steadily hold her gaze. It's vital to bear witness to the harm I've inflicted. It'll serve as a permanent reminder to never let my guard down again. The damage wreaked isn't worth it.

My gaze roams over her. So badly do I want to close the distance and pull her into my arms. She might only be five foot six, but Alyssa is a towering pillar of strength. I don't think I've ever met another girl like her. It's doubtful I ever will again. She's brave, confident, and ballsy. It's a wicked combination that drew me in from the very beginning.

It's the only reason that she's standing before me now.

Had I really fooled myself into believing that this girl wouldn't track me down and demand answers?

I should have known better.

More than anything, I wish everything could be different between us. I wish I weren't so fucked in the head. But, like everything else in life, wishes don't mean jack shit.

"Colton?" she bites out, holding up her phone. "Why would you do this?"