It was almost five when I got home that afternoon. We didn't have practice today, and I'd bummed a ride off Stacy, like I was told to do. And Stacy, of course, hadn't shied away from any questions. Not only did I have to fill her in on Sunday, but I had to update her on the details of the morning, as well. So, making a pit stop for milkshakes was a given. When I'd walked in the door, my mom was doing her best to make it look like she hadn't been waiting for me for ten hours. I knew she was in her favorite spot in the house, lounging in the hand-me-down recliner she'd gotten from some estranged aunt when she and dad bought the house that she'd now worn a groove into by using daily, binge-watching more episodes of Lucifer - her newest obsession. She followed the actors on all social media, and even kept tabs on updates about the next season that was set to air in the spring. I attempted to quietly set my keys down on the counter, hoping she'd give me a few moments to collect myself be

"What's going on in here?"I felt like I was frozen in place as Tessa stepped back quickly from me, taking her warmth with her. Danny's eyes were fervently scanning both of us, and I could almost hear his thoughts as he desperately tried to piece together what was happening. Fear, confusion, fear again, anger, hurt, jealousy. Fear. "Danny, what are you doing here?" I asked, enraged by his sudden appearance. Not only did I no longer love him, I hated him. Truly, passionately, despised him. In the past few weeks, I'd come to know him as a completely different person than the boy I'd known before, and I didn't like this version of him at all. I couldn't believe how easily he'd been able to lie and hide things from me, Tessa, his parents...Danny Schwinn was a sorry excuse for a person at best. "What are you doing in here? I came in here to find my girlfriend." He answered. He relaxed his stance against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood proudly. I wanted to rip

"I'm sorry, but we've tried too many things to get you back on track. I can't have you back next season." "Coach, I will do anything to make this right. I can't lose this scholarship." Daniel Schwinn was sat in the athletic director's office of USC, a sheen of nervous sweat visible on his face. The sophomore was exhausted, and to put it bluntly, still reeling from his weekend bender. "Daniel, your scholarship isn't even up for retention anymore." The dean sat beside him, his hands folded in his lap. His knuckles were white from the tension of his grip. "You've not kept up a single one of your grades like I've asked, you've skipped almost every class you've been placed in, and you're now in a full-blown investigation for two fatal accidents related to on-campus hazing." "What happened to those freshman was an accident, and I didn't do anything to them. I've had a lot on my plate this semester, Arnold." Danny chuckled uncomfortably. "That's Dean Arnold." The man with salt and peppe