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Maybe I had a heart after all.
The End
www.evernightpublishing.com/lacee-hightower
LOVE/HATE GAMES
A Bramwell U Dark Romance
Sofia Aves
Copyright © 2024
Because no matter how much I hate,
I can’t help but love you.
My obsession.
—MD
Chapter One
Maddie
I stood in the middle of Bramwell U’s main courtyard surrounded by flyers featuring a curvy girl dressed in a watermelon silk camisole and matching French knickers singing her drunk little heart out to a karaoke mic. A peek of butt cheek and a whole lot more curves were visible from every angle, despite keeping my distance as I walked.
For a Monday morning I was keen to keep the growing crowd from putting two and two together and coming up with me.
Like I had.
Because that piece of ass would be my butt cheek hanging out for all and sundry to see. What frustrated me most was that the scene clearly showed my own damn living room of the house I shared with four other girls … and not one of them was home when the illicit picture was taken—without my consent.
In fact, no one was home but me.
Butt, butt, buttity, butt.
The caption on the flyers didn’t escape me, either:
UK Student Maddie Sutcliff Lets Down Her Hair … And Her Pride.
I grimaced and ducked my head, letting hip-length black hair flow around me. Even in my state of discomfort I loved the way the raven-black-and-blue streaks contrasted with my white leather jacket. My black crop beneath showed a whole lotta skin … though it was the same piece the college gawked at as I edged through the crowd.
You see, that photo in everyone’s hands had a nice little nip slip. Pert, thankfully, dusky-pink, and pebbled. Yep. Zero body control there, folks.
Well, not so little, actually. The boob was quite big, graphically speaking, as the strap came loose—I had no idea how, and barely remembered the debaucherous night in question apart from the stinger of a headache I woke up with this morning and a sense of unease brewing low in my belly that no amount of premium black coffee grounds could fix. Still, I didn’t expect to drag my hungover ass into the commons and find my pjs and tits plastered everywhere, either.
Students snickered as they read the caption, and more than one phone was out ready to take pictures of my… picture. My brow furrowed as I jammed my sunglasses harder onto my head, glad I was wearing boots because I was so ready to jam one up someone’s behind.
The worst thing was that despite no one else being around last night, I knew just who was responsible for this morning’s coup de grâce: Maxom Deitrich.
The dark horse of a golden boy with his perfect stature, all that wealth he inherited early due to losing a pair of parents I knew he didn’t talk to or care about anyway. And despite being an utterly self-absorbed asshole, he still managed to charm the panties off both genders of all ages, despite their social status.
I knew how tarnished his halo was, because he spent the last two years tormenting me. My bully. How sweet.
And I knew it was him because I broke up with his twin the night before. A night that might just haunt me for the rest of my years. Pro tip, folks: never try to be nice in a breakup. That kind of karma never pays out like you expect.
“I fell out of love with you,” I murmured, trying to banish guilt that sank my heart at quashing the love I wasn’t sure I’d felt for Lennox during the last months. This was the right thing to do for me. For both of us.
