Page 31 of Play Dirty (Villalargos University #1)

Chapter Twenty - Five

Shiloh

M y eyes still hurt from all the crying I did last night. My throat feels raw from puking. It didn't get much better, especially after learning the truth from Thiago. And to say I wasn’t prepared for any of it would be the understatement of the year.

I don’t think anything could prepare me to see the abuse the boys go through, and the worst part is that I feel like it’s my fault. I asked Daddy to pick Nico. I selected the player he would sponsor, but I didn’t know this would be the price he would pay. Did June know?

Did she find out? And somehow they silenced her?

I sit through calculus, but I’m not listening to a single word Professor Nelson is saying. Not about the graphs. Not about the syllabus. Not even the midterm is worth half of my grade. I’m here in body only, doodling images in one of June’s old journals.

Nico is supposed to be here, yet his seat sits empty beside June’s. Both empty and cold.

I look at my watch, counting down the seconds until this torture is over and I can go talk to him. Not to question him or judge him. Honestly, I’m not sure what I would say… I just want to see him. The lack of his presence in class tells me he’s doing what Nicolas Reyes does best.

Running.

Not from class or himself.

But me.

That, I ’m sure of.

The fluorescent bulbs shine bright, burning my eyes.

My pen moves, but I don't. It's not words. It’s swirls upon swirls that find their way to the notebook paper as Professor Nelson continues to talk about derivatives. Explaining the formula to obtain the slope of a tangent line and how to graph it. I don’t care about any of it. I just keep seeing one thing.

The image of Nico on his knees. The cracked red door that beckoned me with its light. The way his mouth wrapped around my father’s—

God .

I can’t even finish the thought without my body heaving, repulsion flowing through it.

My stomach twists again. The same sick swirl that’s been rotting inside me since last night.

I can still smell him on my skin. I know it’s not possible, but it brings me some level of comfort.

Michaela turns around in her seat, locking eyes with me for a brief moment before she turns away and focuses on the lesson.

I go back to looking out the window, watching as the rain slowly drizzles from the sky. The day is cold and grey. My wrists still bear the light red marks of his tie, and I can still hear the buzz of my phone like a haunt.

And yet…

I still want to find him... Hoping this time, he can stay long enough to listen. I’m not sure what I would say, but I think an apology is a great start. After sitting in class for almost an hour, we are dismissed.

Walking under the soft rain, my feet guide me to the green patch of grass that is his sanctuary.

From a distance, I watch as he uses the inside of his feet to dribble the ball down the field, kicking it towards the goal and stopping when it connects.

The rain that started as a light drizzle turns into a strong pour.

Stepping under the bleachers, I continue to watch him.

Scared to get close.

Scared of rejection.

Through the pouring rain, he continues to run up and down the field.

Using his knee, he balances the ball before kicking it into the air, then using his head to launch it.

This time, it misses, and he bends down.

He’s soaked to the bone, his jersey clings to his skin, and his hair is flattened out on his forehead.

Still, he continues. I don’t know how long I remain rooted in place, but by the time he decides to head back to the lockers, I’m also soaked.

My body moves behind him, careful so he won’t notice me, not until I can force him to stay.

Closing the door behind us, I twist the lock until I hear the click. It’s just us.

He stops moving then.

However, he doesn’t turn around; his sculpted back faces me. I watch his shoulders rise with each breath he takes.

“Look at me,” I whisper, pleading with him.

Still nothing.

My throat closes. I hate how small I feel. How small I sound when I beg him once again. “Nico, look at me.”

This time, his hands ball up at his sides. Still, he doesn’t turn.

I inch closer, a sob strangles my throat, but I swallow it back down. Trying to keep my voice steady, I ask. “Do I remind you of him?”

That makes him flinch, barely. But it’s enough.

His shoulders shake. He presses both palms into the locker in front of him as if grounding himself. Then finally, he speaks. “What do you want me to say, Shi?”

I step forward. “Anything, please look at me.” He doesn’t. “Please.” My voice breaks in the end, a tear sliding down my face as my hand flattens out between his shoulder blades. I can feel how much my touch causes him to flinch before his muscles lock up.

It’s painful for him…. To be touched. “Did she know?”

He shakes his head. No.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am. So I'll ask you again, why won’t you look at me?”

Nico slams his hand into the metal locker; the sound is loud, and it scares me. That’s when he turns; his face hurts. “Don’t be scared, I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to.”

“What does that mean?”

I grab his arm, forcing him to face me, but then guilt claws at me. I’m no better than those who have forced him to obey. I’m doing the same, but I’m not him. I’m not my father. Just please look at me. Show me that I’m not him.

My eyes plead…

“Just go back to class, Blondie.”

“No, not until you look at me. I’m not my father.” I finally snap, stepping in front of him, forcing him to acknowledge the truth.

“What do you want me to say? That your eyes anchored me during the darkest time of my life and tainted me all at once? That I wanted you so bad it hurt to drive you away? That I couldn’t even fuck the woman who gave me so much love, so much patience?

” He breathes heavily. “Wanna know how much that fucked with me seeing the eyes I adored on the very man who destroyed me? How fucked it was to be in love with a woman you can’t even look at? ”

I freeze.

His eyes are on me now. Exposing me, burning through me.

His lips part, and the rain is still dripping off the tips of his hair.

“I’m so fucking tired of pretending, Shiloh.

I’m so fucking tired of all of this, but I cannot look at you and not be reminded of him.

” His voice is low now and hits harder than any insult could ever.

“So stop pretending,” I whisper. Slowly, I reach for his jaw. The touch makes him grimace. “I’m not my father. Why can’t you see that?”

He scoffs and pulls away. “Because his eyes are all I see.”

I want to stop him from pulling away, but instead, I give him the choice that everyone has taken away from him.

“Fine. I’ll leave.” The resignation feels bittersweet, something relatively easy yet so hard at the same time.

I regret the words as soon as they come flying out of my lying mouth; they feel like a betrayal of everything I came here for, but I do mean them.

I mean them so much that, like the moment June showed any interest in him, I backed away.

This feels the same except I’m not walking away from my best friend. I’m walking away from everything I ever wanted just so I can give him the respect that he deserves. If not seeing me is what helps him cope, then so be it. The ball is in his court.

I let out a deep, shaky breath before heading back towards the doors, my fingers brushing over the lock, still holding out for him to reconsider. Not sure what I truly expect at this point, but just as resignation floods through me, his voice stops me.

“Don’t.” His voice is hoarse, raw, and low. It guts me and lights me up all at once.

And then I feel him move faster than I can think.

One minute, he’s behind me, and the next, he’s between me and the door.

Grabbing my wrist, not hard, but applying enough pressure to keep him tethered.

Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear or maybe him.

Like I'm the last anchor he has before he descends into darkness.

His eyes finally meet mine. Blue clashes with brown.

And they wreck me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking in the end. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He’s apologizing for things that aren’t even his fault.

I don’t need him to say it… I just need him to stay.

“I don’t want to leave, but I deserve someone who can look at me.

” I breathe, closing the space between us.

I feel like the greatest traitor for wanting him as much as I do.

For a moment, I enjoy the fact that he’s mine to claim and not a secret kept in the darkest part of my heart.

Still, the small victory tastes bitter and weighs heavily in my heart.

Before I can say another word, his rough hand brushes against the softness of my cheek.

The contact sends sparks of electricity through me, and then our lips crash together like the storm outside.

It’s not sweet. It’s not gentle. It’s aching and furious.

Full of things we are too broken to say.

His tongue slips into my mouth, brushing slowly against mine as both of his hands cup my face.

Lifting me off the ground, my legs wrap around his waist, my back slams against the lockers, causing them to clang.

I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound.

His hands move slowly, touching every part of me, before disappearing underneath my shirt.

I can feel the tremble in his fingers as they continue to explore.

I wrap my legs tighter around him, pulling him closer.

Enjoying the proximity. We’re soaked from the rain and shivering from the cold inside the locker room, still wearing our wet clothes, but we don’t care.

We just kiss and explore one another. Then he pulls away, his lips are swollen, and his eyes are hooded.

“Tell me you want this, Blondie.” He says, pressing his forehead against mine.

I don’t hesitate as I answer. “I want this.”

That’s all the permission he needs. With one hand holding me up, his other pulls up my skirt, pushing my panties to the side while I help him free his erection from behind the confines of his mesh shorts.

My breath catches in my throat as he lines himself up. It’s really happening. We both hiss as the head of his cock presses against me. “We can stop if you want.” He says through clenched teeth.

Stop .

I could laugh, but instead, I use the heel of my foot to pull him into me. My back arches against the cool metal as my pussy swallows him. His mouth fi nds my neck, and he softly bites into the skin as he moves inside me.

We move in sync, like our bodies were always meant to collide in this violent and perfect way.

I should feel shame, he was with June, but this just feels right.

My fingers dig into his wet shoulders, my lips parting as he drives into me over and over.

The sound of skin against skin echoes off the tiles.

His mouth moves up my neck, finding my lips and devouring each sinful sound he draws out of me, before he pulls away, kissing the corner of my lips.

“I couldn’t touch her.” He pants against my mouth.

I wish he wouldn’t talk about her now; tears prick the corners of my eyes.

“I tried…. I tried so hard to forget you. To want anything but this.” He pushes into me harshly, claiming every inch of me.

“But it’s always been you, Blondie. You,” he breathes.

His words break something inside me, and he fucks me while I unravel completely.

Tears of joy and shame mix along with the sweat and rain that still cling to our skin.

I cry as we kiss, pulling him deeper. It’s fucking messy.

Desperate and drenched in guilt and want.

But it’s ours. It’s everything we've been holding back since the day we met.

Mine.

The thought sends me toppling over the edge, causing me to shatter around him.

My body trembles from the sheer intensity as I come with a strangled cry.

He follows a moment later, groaning my name as he buries himself to the hilt, still kissing me like it’s the only way he could possibly survive.

We remain connected, looking in each other's eyes, just as a loud buzzing breaks the moment.

We both look down at the phone sitting on the ground.

The Pulse Blog

My entire body goes cold. Nico's body tenses against me before pulling out of me and helping me to the ground. The room spins, and the silence between us this time isn’t sexual or sacred. It’s dread.

Asher is dead.

And somehow… I feel this is just the beginning.