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Fucking finally. I could hear the confused murmurs in the hallway, but our friends could head off and be puzzled together. I didn’t care. I had Piper to take care of. The girl who was slowly falling off the couch.
“Hold on, ice princess.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and helped her back up.
The clipboard was another manner entirely. It was a long checklist of items that had to be done before the end of the twenty-four-hour shift. Jesus fucking Christ. There was the entire map of the dorm to walk through, three times before seven in the morning, a paper to write down noise complaints, fire extinguisher checks, community kitchens, and stairwells. The more I flipped through the papers, the more my head hurt.
I sat down on the couch next to her and ran my finger down the checklist.
You got to be kidding me.
“First thing’s first,” I muttered under my breath. “Your fingerprints need to be logged into the lockbox…and your phone needs to be charged to answer calls. Where’s your phone?”
“What?” Piper giggled.
“Your phone?”
The same phone you got those pictures on.
Piper pointed towards where her phone sat, turned off. Because she didn’t want me to see? I held down the button on the side. Anxiety chewed me, ready to spit me out. Didn’t I want to see Piper happy?
Not with some chucklefuck who thought he was hot shit.
Another knock echoed on the door.
“Goddammit, what now?” I muttered, opening it.
A couple of students stood in front of me. For the second event. Right. They started trying to file in, but I held out my hand and stopped them. They didn’t even look like the guys on my floor.
“Is this the study night?” a girl asked, pushing up her glasses.
“Study night’s been canceled,” I said. “But who likes free food?”
After five minutes of spending a third of a paycheck on Gianna’s delivery, I stepped back into Piper’s room phone in hand.
Thomas Sullender must’ve really wanted a hand-delivered concussion because he had the damn audacity to call her. Right there and then. While I was in the room. I stared down at the caller ID—numb—and went back to the couch.
Piper had a box of malt balls in her hand, one of the things I’d bought her for the event. “Want one?”
“No. I’m…uh…” Whatever energy I had was gone when I showed her the phone. I studied her face. The face of a girl that was completely drunk and into another guy and pulverizing me into bite-sized pieces. “So—uh—Thomas is calling.”
She chewed a malt ball, unperturbed. “He does that.”
I drew the clipboard back over to me and took in a deep breath. Just a few days ago, I sat on a couch with Piper and had my world rocked with a kiss. Now, I couldn’t be any lower. I got Piper drunk by accident. I ruined her shift. And she was talking to some fuckhead who didn’t deserve her.
This was my rock bottom.
“You got photos from him,” I told her, my voice husky.
“What?”
“Zariah told me,” I muttered. “She said you got gray sweatpants photos. During a meeting. From Thomas. And I know what that means, Piper. You got dick pics on your phone and I just—” I shook my head, leaning forward. “This guy can’t even throw a ball right. And that’s what he gets paid for! He’s a shitheel with no redeeming qualities. The only reason anybody would sign him on a team would be for a fucking blooper reel after playoffs!”
I took a deep breath and glanced over at Piper, her head tilted to the side, a secret smile on her face.
“What?” I asked, a little shaky.
“Thomas didn’t send me any pictures.”
“He didn’t?” I stared down at her phone, still ringing.
