Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
My heartbeat quickens as Colton’s name pops up.
Six months.
It seems almost unbelievable that we’ve been together that long. Last week, unable to hold the feelings inside any longer, I’d dropped the I love you bomb after sex. I couldn’t help myself. It had needed to be said, and I’d wanted Colton to know how much he meant to me.
It had been disappointing when he didn’t return the sentiment, but it’s fine. I know he cares. He shows me in a hundred different ways each and every day. Little things that make my heart beat into overdrive—like opening the car door for me, stroking his fingers gently through my hair, clasping my hand when we walk across campus, or turning up at my dorm in the morning with a steaming cup of coffee.
Even though we’ve been together for half a year, we’re still taking baby steps. At some point in the not-so-distant future, I’m hoping Colton will come to the realization that what we have is special, and he loves me. Just like football, it’s all about the long game with Colton. I’m nothing if not patient and persistent.
I swipe my finger across the screen as my gaze skims over the message. Zoe and I jog down the cement stairs until we’re in front of the William Dutton Fine Arts building. It takes a moment for his words to sink in. As they do, my footsteps falter, and I stumble to a halt. My attention stays glued to the text as all of the oxygen evaporates from my lungs, leaving me to feel as if the wind has been knocked from my body.
“Alyssa?” With her brows pinched together, Zoe swings around before hoisting the strap of her bag onto her slender shoulder. “Are you coming?”
People knock into me in their haste to flee the building. A few grumble and tell me to get out of the way. When I remain silent, Zoe’s fingers lock around my wrist before she drags me off the busy pathway and out of the rush of student traffic.
She waves a hand in front of my face to capture my attention as concern floods her voice. “Alyssa?”
I blink and refocus on the words—willing them to morph into something else—before giving my head a little shake.
This has to be a joke.
“Are you all right?” Zoe’s voice softens as she searches my face for an indication as to why I’ve fallen into a semi-catatonic state.
Even though I’m splintering apart on the inside, I force myself to remain calm. “Um, sorry to bale,” I mumble, unable to stop staring at the screen. It’s like a horrific car accident I’m unable to look away from. “There’s something I need to take care of. Go on without me, okay?”
Her lips sink further into a frown as she shifts her weight and cocks her head. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I glance up as my head continues to spin. “Sorry to flake on you like this.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need backup, I’d be more than happy to tag along. I’ve got nothing better going on.”
Her offer brings a slight smile to my face as I shake my head. “Thanks, but no.”
“All right,” she says, sounding dubious, “if you’re sure.”
“I am,” I reiterate.
“I’ll see you on Friday?”
“Yup.” Barely am I aware of Zoe walking away and leaving me alone. Instead of reading over the message again, I stab the call button and hold the phone to my ear. A pit the size of Texas settles in my belly as it goes straight to voicemail.
What the fuck?
Is Colton really doing this to me?
After six months together, it seems almost unfathomable. Anger crashes over me as I stab the red end button and hit redial. When it goes straight to voicemail for a second time, I realize with a sinking heart that he has no intention of picking up my calls.
He’s really doing this.
It’s as if he lit a match, threw it over his shoulder, and burned our relationship to the ground.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
Chapter Eight
Colton
With my elbows perched on my knees, 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 fucking mistake? One I can’t take back, because let’s face it, there’s no way to smooth over a situation when you break up with someone through text. That’s signed, sealed, and delivered.
Here’s what I know—relief flooded through me as soon as I hit the send button.
That’s got to mean something...right?
I straighten my shoulders, all the while trying 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 this, but I also realize there’s no way I could have pulled the trigger if I’d stood in front of her and forced myself to look her in the eye.