Page 126 of The Deception You Weave

That being said though, by the time I get back to my dorm later that evening and pull my cell out to find that I have no messages or anything from him, my curiosity gets the better of me.

Opening Instagram, I search for him and then look at his tagged photos and videos.

There are a few from the guys from practice and a couple that Ezra has tagged him in of them all hanging out at the house, but the one which stands out contains a certain blonde I had the displeasure of seeing tonight.

Knowing that I shouldn't, I try to force myself to shut the app down and forget about it. Clara is a slut, I know her type. I remember them all hanging off Luca and Leon during high school. It's all games to try to snag the players. But even knowing that, I don't close the app and instead, I hit play.

My lips curl in disgust as I'm forced to watch her touch him, walking her fingers up his bicep like she owns him.

But that's nothing compared to the way he looks at her and turns into her body.

"Holy shit," I gasp, my hand covering my mouth as he leans down to her.

Finally, a minute or two too late. I close the app.

I tell myself over and over that it won't have been how it looked. I remember how sincere he'd been when he said he'd not been with anyone else since starting here, and I believe him. Plus, we're not actually together, are we? I have no right to be pissed at anything he does. He might have said all the right things to make me melt last night, but really this thing between us has barely started.

But none of that matters because the image of her with him, of the way he leaned into her, is now burned into my mind feeding my insecurities about what he's doing with me and my suspicions that he's playing me for the fun of it.

Sitting on the edge of my bed with my cell still in my hand, I open our previous conversation and shoot him a message asking him how his night went.

I sit there for ten minutes but it doesn't show as read and finally, I get a grip on myself, put it down and head for the shower.

* * *

I had no message waiting for me when I got back to check my cell last night, and the first thing I did this morning when I woke up was to check again. But still, nothing, and still, the message hadn't even been read.

As I lay staring at the ceiling, my concerns about what might have happened continue to flood my mind.

What if something went wrong last night. Would anyone even know where he is?

My heart races as I remain there imagining all the worst possibilities. In the end, I cave and I hit call on his number.

It rings and it rings and eventually goes to his voicemail.

I hang up. He'll see that I've called, he doesn't need to hear me freaking out. Assuming he's still alive.

I shouldn't care, I tell myself for the millionth time.

But I do. I care more than I want to admit and I'm terrified that this might be over before it's even really started because finally, out of all the shit, things were starting to look up.

Finally, focusing on the time, I realize that he'll be at practice. He was probably just out late last night then up early this morning. He probably hasn’t checked his cell.

I get ready for class telling myself that he'll be here like he promised, and when I eventually emerge from the building a little over an hour later, I'm filled with hope that I certainly wasn't feeling earlier, but the second I look around, I find no one.

My heart sinks once more, the fear I felt when I woke returns and causes a lump to clog my throat.

"Hey, I thought Kane was meeting you," Ella says when she follows me out of the building not long later to find me sitting on the wall that leads down to the sidewalk in the hope he'd appear.

"Yeah, me too," I mutter sadly.

"Well, the guys haven't come back yet so maybe they got held up at practice," she says, hope glittering in her eyes. She really wants to believe this thing with Kane could be real, that there could be a magical happily ever after for us. Right now, I'm not feeling the positivity.

"Yeah, maybe. Come on, let's go."

I find West and Brax hanging out by our morning class.

"Scarlett," Brax calls when he spots me and opens his arms as if he's going to give me an over-the-top hug.