Page 134 of The Illicit Play

I gotta come clean. I have to convinceherto come clean… if she’ll let me talk to her. She’s kind of been hiding away since she lost it on my bed. I hated that I had to get up and leave her for football practice. I have no idea how long she stayed in my room after I left the house, but she was back in hers by the time I got home, and she barely looked at me over dinner. Is she embarrassed about the panic attack?

She doesn’t need to be. The fact that she can fall apart around me is a compliment in some ways. She trusts me enough to be her raw and real self. That’s a huge privilege.

I want to honor that and respect her.

But I have to convince her to stop sitting on all these lies. She’ll never be truly free—neither of us will—until the truth comes out.

But which truth should she spill first?

Which one is less scary for her?

Telling her brother about me… or the shit she got up to in Chicago… or the roofie scare… or the liquor store incident?

Shit, she’s got a lot to confess.

I know which one I’d prefer, but I’m not gonna be a selfish prick about it.

“Hey.” Carson snaps his fingers in front of my face. “You need me to drive, man?”

Coming to with a quick blink, I notice that the crosswalkI paused for is now clear. Accelerating over the zebra stripes, I ignore Carson’s frown, clenching my jaw and refusing to engage.

But he won’t let me get away with it.

“You good, man? You seem… off.”

“I’m fine.”

He snickers. “Soooo freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.”

“What?” I glance at him.

“The Italian Job. You know. The movie? I’m fine? But fine actually means… ach…” He flicks a hand through the air. “Don’t worry about it.” He shakes his head and mutters something about needing Nylah.

I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, so I keep my mouth shut. I’m not really in the mood to engage. The coaches ran us hard at practice, and I was into it, because I need to burn off this angst, but it’s also made me sore and… okay, I’m grumpy.

Better get my shit together before we reach Football Frat, because I have to talk to Blake today. I just have to.

Carson rests his foot up on my dash. I fucking hate it when he does that, but I don’t want to get into it with him, so I grip the wheel and pick up speed. We make it home a couple of minutes later, and I slam out of the Jeep, stalking for the front door.

“Dude, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Zander laughs at me as he hops out of his SUV and spots me on the lawn.

“Nothing!” I bark, taking the stairs two at a time.

I can sense the guys looking at each other, trying to figure what’s up with me now.

Hopefully they assume it’s got something to do with Teah so I don’t have to tell them what’s really going on.

They’ll all find out soon enough, but Wily has to be the first to know. It’s the only way that’s fair.

“I’ve already told you this!” Blake’s raised voice hits me the second I open the door.

Dumping my bag and kicking off my shoes, I don’t even think. I bolt down to the kitchen, my muscles coiled tight as I listen to her distress.

“Why do you keep pushing this?”

“Because you told us you were going back to Chicago after spring break. Classes start again tomorrow. Why aren’t you on a plane?” Wily’s towering over her, holding out his phone like he’s recording this shit.

What the fuck is he doing?