Rummaging through my bag, I find my phone and check the display. Jaxon. Frowning, I hit the answer key and put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Jordan.” His voice is loud. With the noise of music, tinkling glassware, and laughter in the background, I figure he’s at a bar somewhere. “Did you see the game?”

I grit my teeth. “I saw enough.”

“Enough to know what’s going on with Brody?”

“You too?”

“Me too?” he echoes.

“You think the way he played tonight is my fault too?”

“Well … partly, yes.”

I turn and lean against the counter, my fingers tight on the phone. “That’s so unfair!”

“So Brody failed his midterm and then you both don’t speak to each other for three whole days. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“You know he failed? And figure out what? Stop speaking in riddles.”

“Of course I know he failed,” he says impatiently. “Brody clearly has issues. And when something upsets him, he just pushes everyone away. He can do that with me because I’m family. I’m not really going anywhere, you know? You’re good for him, Jordan. Don’t let him do that to you, okay?”

“I tried, okay? It just pushed him further away. I’m not sure I can help him.”

“You tried once. If that’s your definition of trying, then it’s pathetic.”

“Nice,” I bite out.

“Please, Jordan?” The background noise softens, and I know he’s stepped outside. “Brody doesn’t listen to me. I’m a straight-A student. He thinks I won’t understand.”

“Understand what?” I ask, cautious.

“Understand what it’s like being dyslexic,” he says.

I sag back against the kitchen cupboard behind me. “You know that too?”

“Of course I fucking know that too. He just doesn’t know I know. Maybe he thinks I’ll think less of him for it, which is dumb.”

“Don’t—”

“I know, I know. Don’t say dumb.” More silence. “Come by tonight. After the game.”

I give in and agree to stop by. Eleven p.m. finds me at Brody’s door in a pretty white dress belted at the waist, the thin straps making me shiver. What am I thinking? That I’ll sway him with a bit of skin? I’m a fool. This proves it, but it’s too late to run back and put on the hoodie and gym shorts I feel so much more comfortable in.

Taking a deep breath, I rap sharply on the front door.

No answer. Again.

Dammit.

Pulling out my phone, I stab at the keys, typing a new message to Jaxon. The amount of time I’ve given up to help Brody when I should be focused on my own future scares me. Has it all been for nothing?

Jordan: Where are you?

BigBananaBoy: On our way now.

I shake my head at the name Leah used to add Jaxon as a contact. I never got around to changing it.

Clattering feet and drunken male laughter echo up the stairwell, setting my nerves on edge. Being out so late and alone is probably not smart.

Jordan: I might just go.

BigBananaBoy: No! Don’t leave. Be there in ten. Promise.

The noise level rises, the stairwell ejecting a boozed-up pile of guys into the hallway. I press my back against the door behind me and fold my arms, doing my best to appear unobtrusive.

A soft, taunting laugh sweeps over me as they stagger their way along the wide corridor. My eyes flick to the group without turning my head. Prickles of apprehension rise on my skin when I see Kyle amongst them.

“If it isn’t Brody’s little soccer star,” he slurs, his alcohol-glazed eyes roaming over me. “And don’t you look super sweet tonight.”

He steps up in front of me, bathing me in beer fumes. I keep my head up, my gaze straight ahead while his drunken friends continue their merry way down the hall.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” He brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek.

“Don’t touch me.” I jerk my head away, leaving his hand suspended in the air for a moment before it drops by his side.

“Did that dumb asshole lock you out?”

Anger churns my stomach, making my hands shake. I curl them until the nails bite into my palms. “Call him dumb one more time.” I lift my chin, meeting his gaze with hard eyes. “I dare you.”

Kyle laughs. “You’re feistier than I thought.” He presses his forearm against the door above me, bringing him closer. “But you shouldn’t care so much. Brody isn’t the nice guy you seem to think he is.”

“Why do you even care?” Wedging my arms between us, I shove him away.

He staggers, pressing a hand to the wall behind him to right himself. “I don’t.” His lips press to a thin line, his irritation spilling over. “I’m just tired of that self-righteous prick getting everything he ever wanted.”

“Because he got everything you ever wanted you mean?”

“Yes,” Kyle hisses. Lurching back toward me, he jabs a finger in my breastbone hard enough to bruise. “Someone needs to take him down a peg or two.”

“And what?” I snap. “You decided you were the man for the job?”

“See? I knew you were a smart girl,” Kyle croons and cups my right cheek in his palm. “I like smart girls.”

“Yeah?” I yank his hand away. My legs are weak and shaky beneath me, my show of bravado beginning to fade fast. “Because for someone who’s supposedly intelligent enough to be Professor Draper’s TA, you’re a bloody idiot.”

“An idiot?” Kyle cocks his head, and for the first time he looks unsteady, like something inside his head is out of balance. A tendril of real fear snakes up my spine. When another set of echoing voices reach us from the stairway, he takes a wobbly step backwards. Relief sweeps over me.

“I’ll be seeing you in class,” he says, and my eyes follow his retreating back down the corridor. He disappears inside the same apartment as his friends, and I gasp my next breath, hunching over because I can’t suck it in.

I can’t do this.

I can’t be the strength Brody needs. I barely have enough for myself.

I start for home, my head down as I rummage for my phone. I don’t get far. Jaxon emerges. Brody and Damien spill out of the stairwell behind him, drunk and singing about swinging from a chandelier. It should be funny, but all it does is break my heart. Brody is slowly ripping apart at the seams, and all I can do is run away.

Brody’s song cuts off when he smacks into me. He startles for a moment, color draining from his face when he sees me. Then his eyes devour me, unable to get enough. I want to do the same. It’s been three days since he walked off the field, yet it feels like a lifetime ago.

“Brody.”

My voice is low, but he jerks like the sound is a slap to the face. “What do you want?”

My eyes flick to Jaxon, who gives me an encouraging thumb’s-up. I shake my head and turn back to Brody, in no way encouraged. “I want to talk.”

“No,” he says, his tone rough and sharp. He cocks his head. “But we can fuck if you want.”

Damien chokes on a laugh. I have to bite the insides of my cheeks to force back the tears. The man in front of me feels like a stranger. I want to shake him and find the real Brody inside. “Please. Don’t. This isn’t you.”

“Christ, Jordan. You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” Brody rolls his beautiful eyes theatrically. “And you’re wrong. It is me.” He smiles sardonically, slapping Damien on the back when he edges his way around us. “Right, Damien?”

“Don’t include me in your domestic, dude.” Damien holds up his hands, walking backwards toward their apartment door. Jangling a set of keys in his hand, he points them at Brody. “This is why you don’t do a chick more than once.”

Jaxon takes a step in my direction and mouths, I’m sorry.

I shake my head. There’s nothing I can do. Not when he’s like this. Belligerent, drunk, uncaring.

When I brush past Brody to leave, his fingers snake around my bicep, a steel handcuff that locks me in place. He brings his face to mine, so close his eyes are all I see. They’re dark and unwavering, and so cold I ache from it.