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Axel frowns, his teeth worrying the ring in his lip. He’s annoyed. Not at Twyler, but his competitive edge boils under the surface. He hates losing. I feel the tiniest flicker in my gut because, yep. Axel Rakestrawismy type. But even if I wasn’t reformed, Axel is off limits for two reasons.

One, I promised Twyler I wouldn’t chase any of the guys on the hockey team. Initially because she was working with the team, but even after she stopped she didn’t want to risk any upheaval between us. Fair.

Two, Axel had seen me at my lowest, most humiliating, moment. He knows my secret, and I can barely stand to face him, much less have sex with him.

“You know, if it’s too loud in here we can go somewhere more quiet. My buddy Rich lives here. We can head up to his room.”

“Huh?” I turn, forgetting Jacob is still here. I look at his face, well, I try to, because this time he’s definitely staring at my cleavage. Eyes nowhere near my face. I can’t blame him. My titsarepretty spectacular. But from the glazed over glint in his eye, I can tell it’s time to cut this kid loose. “Listen, Jacob–”

“Oh shit, they came.” He straightens, gaze leaving my tits to peer over my shoulder.

“Who came?” I ask, looking behind me, but I already know. The tingling in my spine– a warning signal.

It’s impossible not to see them, based on size alone. The guys walking in the front door are massive, each one bigger than the last. They have to duck their heads as they enter and they barely make it into the living room before the crowd swarms, each wanting a piece of our local celebrity football players.

I keep track of two of the players: Brent Reynolds and CJ McMichael. Brent’s hair is damp, fresh from his postgame shower. He’s surrounded instantly, by girls and guys, happily accepting the bottle of whiskey thrust in his hand. Next to him CJ wraps his good arm around one of the girls in the jersey dress. Even off the field, nursing an injury, it doesn’t seem to lessen his status. A wave of nausea builds in my gut.

I look across the room to the Quarters game, but Twyler and Reese have vanished. Another one of Reese’s teammates, Reid, has taken their place, and Axel looks much happier about it. His green eyes flick up, meeting mine, and he gives me a friendly smile and wink.

“I have to go,” I blurt.

“Are you serious?”

Without an apology, I leave the baseball player, and go the opposite way from the front door. The last thing I want to do is to run into either Brent or CJ. This is their territory, not mine, and I don’t want to do anything to provoke either of them.

My heart pounds as I make my way through the kitchen toward the back of the house. I used to think Brent was the one. He’s handsome. Strong. Popular and skilled. He’s headed to the NFL draft and it’s predicted he’ll get picked in an early round.

I was willing to do anything for him.

And a few months ago, when I’d been lucky enough to catch his eye, I had. Back then those feelings felt like butterflies. Nervous excitement. Like maybe what we had between us could be real. But the churning in my gut that I’m currently experiencing? That’s not excitement. It’s fear. Even I can’t pretend otherwise.

“Excuse me,” I say, squeezing past two girls leaning against the refrigerator, lips locked. They shift, never leaving their embrace, and I squeeze past, ducking into the hall that I know leads to the back deck.

I’m not sure why I’m scared–I barely remember that night. I’ve never even seen the video, but it’s like my body knows something my mind can’t–orwon’t–recall. I just have flashes of Axel barging in the room and getting me out of there. Of the weight of his jacket being thrown over my bare shoulders, and the slap of cool air on my bare legs as Twyler met me outside. What isn’t blurry is the aftermath. How she wanted me to report what happened to the police. How she and Reese almost broke up over Brent’s threats. How Axel’s gaze went from flirty to sympathetic.

That was the night I became a victim.

“Leaving so soon?”

The voice I’d been avoiding for weeks comes from behind. Heart pounding, I swallow and turn. Brent stands in the hallway, his shoulders broad enough to almost go wall to wall.

“Brent…” I peer behind him, looking for CJ, but he’s alone. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He leans a shoulder against the wall, effectively blocking me in. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” I nervously reach for my hair, but the length is no longer there. “It has been.”

His eyes track my fingers. “You cut your hair. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Almost.

“I was looking for a change,” I shrug. “Something different.”

“I like it,” he says, reaching for a strand to tug between his fingers. “It’s sexy.”

A month ago I would have been thrilled for Brent to track me down at a party and call me sexy. Even though we’re in a back hallway, it’s still more public than he’s been willing to commit to.

“Thanks.” With my drink still clutched in my hand, I take a step back. “I was just going to find Twyler and Reese. We’re about to leave.”