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“You’re his friends and teammates, right?” I add. “Even though I’m new on campus and have never met any of you, I can only assume that’s why you’re here.”

“She’s smart,” Chris says, glancing at his friends.

I huff out a laugh. “You say that like it surprises you.”

“I mean, you did dump our quarterback,” Jace chimes in. “And I’m secure enough with my masculinity to say he’s one sexy son of a bitch.”

He has a point.

Beside him, West snorts.

“Not to mention, he’s going places.” Brandon shrugs. “Once women sink their claws into someone like that, they don’t typically let go.”

I turn my icy gaze on him. “I amnota jersey chaser,” I say with a snarl, my nerves forgotten.

He raises his hands. “Not saying you are, but . . .” His unspoken words linger in the air, and I don’t need to be a genius to catch his meaning. I’m worse than a jersey chaser?I’m a heartbreaker.

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable as Jace clears his throat, drawing my attention when he says, “You’re right. We are here because of Damon. Call this an intervention of sorts.”

I frown. “An intervention?”

“As you know, we play in the Peach Bowl this weekend. If we win, we move to the National Championship, the final playoff game. For some, it’s simply a chance to earn clout, a trophy, and a ring. But for Damon, as a junior and a damn good quarterback, it’s a chance to solidify his position in the draft. He has one more year before he’s out, and though he’s at the top of the list for recruits, all it takes is one shitty performance when it counts the most and teams will look the other way. All they’ll see is a guy who can’t perform under pressure.” He shrugs. “No one wants a quarterback who crumbles.”

“O-kaaaay,” I drawl, crossing my arms over my chest and sinking back into my seat, “but what does this have to do with me?”

“Ever since he ran into you, he’s been playing like shit,” Chris says.

My gaze flickers to him and my stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Chris sighs. “He’s been dropping the ball at practice all week.”

“Both figuratively and literally,” Brandon chimes in.

I swallow. “How bad is it?”

“Fucking bad.” Jace runs a hand over the back of his neck. “So bad, in fact, there’s been talk of Coach starting our second string.”

“No.” I blanch, the blood draining from my face. “He . . . he can’t.”

My heart pounds. This is everything Damon has been waiting for; he’s been working toward this his whole life. If Coach starts someone else in the game this weekend, it’ll kill him. And if what they’re saying is true, and I’m the cause . . .

“I don’t think he’ll do it,” Chris says in a soothing tone, and I wonder if it’s because I look like I want to puke, because I do. “It would likely be suicide, but he’s desperate. It’sthatbad.”

“Oh God.” I run a hand over my face, trying to process what they’re telling me.

My thoughts race. Maybe my coming here was a mistake. Maybe winning Damon back is a lost cause, and I should do him a favor, and pack my bags and leave.

No.I fist my hands in my lap.You’re not running from him again. You’re going to make him listen, explain your reasons for letting him go, and let the cards fall where they may. Maybe he won’t forgive you. Maybe thisisa lost cause. Regardless, you’re seeing this through.

“I have to say, you don’t seem to be the heartless bitch Damon made you out to be,” Chris says, and even though his words should hurt, I actually appreciate his honesty.

“What did he tell you, exactly?” I ask, unsure of if I really want to hear the answer.

Jace shrugs. “He gave us the basics of your relationship, then the rundown on how you basically ripped his heart out of his chest, then stomped on it with both feet.”

I nod, worrying my lower lip with my teeth before I find my voice. “That’s fair, but I didn’t come here to hurt him.”

“Why are you here?” Brandon asks.