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“George–” my name on his lips for not just commanding, it felt owned. “You said you’d do anything to make it up to me,” Sig continued, leaning in closer. “I need this for my research. I want you to repeat what you said to me. You said it every day, George. It shouldn't be that hard to remember.”

“I said...” I looked away, my throat tightening. “I said you were a lying...”

“Come on, Brooks. Are you too much of a coward to say it now? You want my forgiveness, right? This is how you earn it. Repeat it.”

“I called you a lying, attention-seeking whore.”

He smirked, but there was no warmth in it. “That wasn’t all, was it?”

“I called you a pretentious little fuck.”

He leaned forward again, his shadow falling over me. “And what happened when you did that? Were there any consequences for your actions?”

“None.”

“Hmm. None.” He chuckled, a cold, melodic sound.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Sig.”

“Then don’t.” He abruptly stood up, snapping his laptop shut. “I got what I needed. Thanks to you, my research will be perfect.”

I nodded slowly standing up, feeling a hollow sense of relief. “I’m glad I could help.”

He sniggered, a sharp, mocking sound. “I’m glad too, George Brooks. The door is behind you.”

He pointed toward the exit, dismissing me instantly. His dark lashes shifted their focus back to his laptop as he opened it again, erasing me from the room before I’d even left.

I nodded and walked to the door. I looked at him one last time, but he was too busy clicking on his laptop screen. I sighed, ducking again as I passed through the door. I deserved his coldness. I deserved every bit of it.

Chapter Two

George

I HAD JUST LEVELED three opposing players at once, carving out a pocket for our QB to fire a thirty-yard bullet to the wide receiver. But during halftime, while the locker room was buzzing with the adrenaline of a potential victory, the celebration was cut short. I was pulled off the floor by campus security.

“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded. “Coach!”

Coach Loranger stepped in, his face red. “We have a game to finish! What is this about?”

“It’s nothing major, Coach. We just need to escort Mr. Brooks to Dean’s office,” the lead security officer said, his voice flat.

“In the middle of a game?” Coach was still shouting as the officers nudged me toward the exit. “Were you fucking watching? Brooks is my star player.” That was a compliment I never expected to hear from Coach Loranger. He didn’t believe in praise early in the season.

“The sooner we leave, the sooner he might get back to the game,” the lead officer shouted back. “Let’s go,” he told me.

I nodded, my heart sinking, and followed them.

When I entered Dean Hargrove’s office, the atmosphere was suffocating. My eyes immediately met Sig’s golden gaze. He was lounged back in one of the leather seats across from Dean’s desk. On the mahogany surface sat a neatly bound folder and a silver flash drive. My brows furrowed as the realization began to dawn on me. Sig smirked.

“George Brooks, do you recognize Santiago Mercer?” Dean Hargrove asked.

“Yes. Sig, what is this about?” I asked.

“Brooks, Mr. Mercer claims that you harassed him throughout high school and have continued the same pattern here on campus.”

“What? That’s not true.”

“Didn’t you seek me out?” Sig asked, raising a perfectly shaped brow. “Followed me directly to the campus food court, and then right to my dorm room?”