Page 6 of Play Dirty (Villalargos University #1)

Chapter Four

Nico

J unior

Age Twenty-One

Summer came and went, and the truth slipped further from reach—like everything else lately. I’m deeper in shit now than I was when I got here. Villalargos didn’t save me. It swallowed me.

I am trying to keep the only piece of me this shithole hasn’t taken. My drive to win. To play.

This is my sanctuary, this green wet turf is where I bleed out my pain.

I run down the field, dribbling the ball between my feet. Doing the only thing that feels right and avoiding the only thing in my life that’s good besides my family. My girlfriend, June. It’s not that I don't want to be around her; I just can't.

Truthfully, we should never have gotten together, and one day, I will find the balls to end it. Put us both out of our misery. At first, I felt like we could work. She’s everything any man could want. Kind, beautiful, talented, and intelligent.

But my heart has been struggling to catch up to my mind.

Guilt wraps tight around me. Suffocating me.

Almost a year later, and I’m still stuck on that night when she asked me to be hers. I choked up when I saw the look on her face, how her big brown eyes pleaded with me to accept her love. And how she has settled for my lack of love …

She’s a woman with needs, and as much as I try, I just can’t seem to get out of my head long enough to allow her to touch me or to fuck her like she so desperately wants.

I thought this summer, I could finally give her the night she deserved, but I froze the moment I stepped into the dorm she shares with Shiloh.

The smell alone was enough to drag me back to that night…

To my weakness— the night I showed that, like everyone else in this shit hole, I’m corrupted. The recognition didn’t stop me. It only made me hungrier as I took.

A secret I buried inside me.

It didn’t matter how much she tried. Begging with her touch, all I managed to do was eat her out, but she wants more, and what can I say—nothing.

Because I understand, we’ve been together long enough to be able to fuck like normal people my age.

And the fucking muscle inside my chest has made me a prisoner for someone else…

Besides, nothing about my life is normal; it doesn't help that I have gotten nowhere close to finding out what happened to her. Or the man who hurt her.

Not June, but someone of even greater value to me.

She’s the reason I learned to play, why I’m able to play at some fancy school, and I’ve done nothing but become a bitch to my donors, or — literally and figuratively.

I kick the ball towards the goal post, slicing through the grass and scoring the goal.

At least I’m still good at soccer. At least on the field, I can control my body. The ball.

It’s easy, like second nature.

My breaths come in hard and fast, as the cold air scrapes down my throat. It’s no longer something I do for enjoyment but therapy. I play to forget, to outrun the memories that keep me prisoner to my mind and soul .

Running towards the goal, I kick the ball to the other side of the field. My thighs burn from the intensity of my exertion, but I welcome it. The burn. The sting that comes from playing and doing the only thing I can control.

Sweat runs down my back when I see June's small figure appear by the bleachers. Her small hand covers her eyes, trying to shield them from the sun, her skin golden from her family beach vacation. Unlike the others, I remain in Villalargos. I don’t care about exploring or extravagant getaways; I only care about one thing: making him pay.

Making all this worth everything I’ve lost.

Without success, this is all for nothing.

“Hi, you.” She whispers as she wraps her arms around my waist. I freeze. I still hate the way it feels when someone touches me. My body rejects the weight of others. My skin burns from the contact, but slowly I’ve been learning to accept her small gesture of affection; it’s the least I can do.

God knows I can’t even fuck her.

“Hey, how was your flight?” I ask, trying to pry her off me without hurting her feelings. Thankfully, she pulls away without a fight, noticing my discomfort. That’s what made me stay and continue to try. She never imposes herself— she doesn’t understand, but she respects my space.

Sometimes I wish I could feel the same. But no amount of time can drown the persistent need inside me festering with maggots– the wound open and still bleeding for someone else.

Someone who isn’t her.

“It was good, a little bumpy at landing, but overall well. How was your time with your family?”

Rolling the tension out of my neck, I look down at my beautiful girlfriend, and guilt haunts me. What would she think of me if she knew the truth? I boop her nose softly, “It went well, played soccer with the little brother, and ate some home-cooked meals.”

She stretches her arms in front of her, showing the Cartier bracelet resting on her delicate wrist. Fuck,she deserves more than I could ever give. “When will I meet them?”

“Eventually, you know how I feel about bringing you there.”

She scrunches her button nose. “You know I don’t mind.”

And I know she doesn’t.

It still doesn’t help that I feel inferior to her. That I don’t want to bring her to my filth, no matter how much she pours into me. I still don’t love myself enough to bring her into my world.

“You’re back early.” I change the subject and try to fight back the urge to ask about her . But the name is already forming in my head. The frost in my chest tells me it’s too late, and I ask about her best friend and roommate.

Shiloh Johnson.

“Blondie back yet?”

She laughs, covering her mouth. “Stop calling her that. And no.”

Curiosity creeps in like a parasite, gnawing at the edges of my restraint. Going crazy as my mind spirals, wondering what she’s doing.

How’s she been? Is she still with that asshole Asher?

I know. I know. I’m a dick.

But a dick with an obsession I can’t control.

Trust me, this sickness should have been cured that very night, but here we are. I know it’s not love, let's not confuse the feeling or me wanting Blondie. I hate everything about Shiloh Johnson, especially those damn fucking icy orbs.

Eyes that strip me bare when I look too long.

So I don’t.

I avoid her like the plague, and yet still she infected me.

My obsession has nothing to do with love. It’s about destruction. I want to ruin Blondie, just like I’ve been from the moment I laid eyes on her. I clench my fist— opening it and closing it. Reminiscing about the feel of her skin beneath my calloused hand.

I push the thought aside, like I've pushed away Shiloh, and focus on what matters. June.

“Ahh, still vacationing and leaving you to handle the move all by yourself as usual.”

She rolls her eyes and turns away from me. June hates it when I pick on Shiloh — or when I’m just a dickhead towards her bestie. But what can I say? Shiloh brings out something in me I didn’t even know existed. Or maybe it was always there, buried under my bitterness. Who knows?

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I can try to be nicer.” I don’t know if I can manage to be nice, but I’ll always try for June. If she can’t have my heart, the least I can offer is my effort.

“Thank you,” she whispers as she holds out her small hand, three single bands adorn each finger.

I gulp hard, a year later, and I still get queasy holding her hand.

It just feels foreign to be lovingly touched after all the violations on my body.

All it takes is a small warm smile from June before my hand interlocks with hers, holding the soccer ball with my other hand.

I let her guide us, a gust of wind slips between us, moving her hair, and that’s when I notice the bruises on her neck.

I stop, my hand darting to the purple and bluish marks. “June, what’s this?”

June tenses, running her hand over the back of her neck. “I was organizing my books and was shocked when I turned.” She slaps the spot, and I catch the wince in her face. Yet she tries to hide it. “They all just fell.”

I quirk a brow. “They just fell?”

“Mmmh, they just fell.” She pulls away. This time, her voice is too calm, even for her. It feels rehearsed. I don’t know what’s been going on with her lately, but she’s grown quieter.

Shrinking.

It’s like when you get a plant and you care for it. But no matter what you do, it still withers.

That's June right now.

And maybe I should press harder, figure out what’s wrong. Call her out on her lie. But the truth is, I’m hiding too. So I just eat the lie she fed me and try not to choke on it.