Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Laila was relentless. “I don’t like him, Jeremy. Don’t see him again.”
“You don’t like any of them,” Jeremy muttered.
“With good reason. Would it kill you to fuck someone who respects you?”
The edge in her words warned him not to argue. Jeremy should let it go, but he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. “Faser blames me for Jean’s rumors. Said I’m the reason the Ravens could say such vile things about him after he transferred.” He tapped an agitated beat on his bicep and risked a look at her. That she didn’t look surprised by this theory made all of it worse. “Everyone can believe that he slept his way onto the lineup and the perfect Court because we’re the ones who signed him. I set the precedent for what USC will stand by.”
“Jeremy,” Laila said, but bit her tongue when the elevator slowed to a stop. The hall was empty when they stepped out, but Laila took a long look around before turning back to him. Her hands were gentle when she finally reached for him, and she tugged him close so she could press her forehead to his. “The next time you go home with Faser I will take your balls off with my fingernail clippers. Understand?”
Jeremy flinched. “Jesus, Laila.”
“I said, do you understand?”
“Yes, yes,” he hurried to say, and Laila looped her arm through his with a satisfied nod.
She knocked on his hotel room door, but Jeremy fished his keycard out of his pocket and swiped it over the reader. Cat was already halfway to the door when they stepped through, and she ground to a halt to stare at him. “Tell me those are hickeys,” she said, sharp and disbelieving. Jeremy motioned for her to keep it down even as Laila hurriedly closed the door behind them. “What the fuck, Jeremy?”
Jeremy waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.” He glanced at Laila and gestured over his shoulder toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Will you two still be here when I get out or are you ready—”
The slap of a hand against wood nearly startled three years off his life, and Jeremy stared blankly at the arm barricading the bathroom doorway. He hadn’t even heard Jean get up, but now the other man was standing only inches away from him. The look on Jean’s face almost crushed the breath from Jeremy’s lungs, and far too late he thought of bloody bites and Jean’s fingernails digging lines into his own throat.
“Give me a name,” Jean said. “I will kill him.”
“Babe, wait.” Cat reached for Jean, and Jeremy moved without thinking. He almost wasn’t fast enough, but somehow he caught Jean’s arm halfway through its instinctive swing and dragged Jean toward him. Recognition set in a second too late, and Jean flicked a quick look at Cat.
She put her hands up, not in self-defense but in conciliation, and retreated out of his space. “I’m sorry. That’s on me. I’m sorry.”
“Jean,” Jeremy tried, but Jean was slow to face him again. Jeremy let go of him before asking, “Are you okay?”
Incredulous anger returned in a heartbeat with a flat, “Am I?”
“I’m okay,” Jeremy stressed. “She’s okay. Are you?”
“A name,” Jean insisted.
“No,” Jeremy said, and ignored the scowl that refusal earned him. “It’s fine, Jean. This is not—this isn’t the same as—” He floundered in search of a delicate way to finish that statement. The best he managed was an insistent, “He didn’t mean to hurt me. He just had a bit too much to drink, so he got a bit heavy-handed. That’s all it was. I would tell you if it was something to be worried about, I promise.”
“You promise.”
Jeremy heard the accusation in that. “If you won’t trust me, trust Laila. She hates all my partners; she wouldn’t protect them from you.”
“True,” Laila started to say, but Jean’s fierce, “They are not your partners,” was louder. Jeremy could only stare at him, and Jean said something vicious in French as he finally stepped back. He moved Cat out of his way with a quick hand to her shoulder and crossed the room like he could barely stand to be in Jeremy’s space anymore. The silence that fell in the room was uncomfortable and tense, and finally Laila nudged Jeremy.
“Shower,” she said. “Leave your phone with me; I’m going to block his number.”
Jeremy relinquished it to her before retreating into the bathroom at last. He stayed under the spray until his fingers were raisins and the steam made his lungs feel syrupy. Scrubbing dry in there was an exercise in failure, so he wound a towel around his waist before leaving.
Halfway to the beds he realized the girls were gone, and he wasn’t sure whether to lament their absence. Jean was sitting cross-legged in the center of his bed, phone in his hands but gaze pointed across the room at nothing. He didn’t move at Jeremy’s approach, and he said nothing as Jeremy pulled on a pair of sweats. Only when Jeremy chucked his towel at the nearest corner did he finally stir.