The Game That Breaks Us (37 page)

I’ve been back on campus for
two
weeks and people still stare and whisper as I pass. Everyone’s talking about the scandal with Bennett and his coach’s underage daughter. I don’t want to believe it’s real, but the evidence seems to be irrefutable. They even arrested Bennett—seeing that image on my computer sent me into hysterics and I couldn’t go to classes for a whole day—but he got out on bail a short time later. 

My parents are urging me to transfer to a school back home, but I know the scandal will only follow me there. People aren’t even that interested in
me
they just want to hear what I know—which is nothing. 

I feel so lost and I hate that. I always thought I was strong enough to stand on my own, that I didn’t need a man, and I don’t, but I
want
Bennett. He made me a better person but apparently
he’s
not a good person. I mean, I knew that he’d had a shady past and slept with a lot of women, but his coach’s underage daughter? I
never
would’ve thought he’d stoop that low. I guess it goes to show you that you never really know someone.

I adjust my backpack straps and walk as fast as I can across campus without slipping on some ice. 

“Excuse me? Grace?”

I ignore the voice. Lots of people call my name, hoping I’ll stop and divulge some secret about Bennett. 

“Grace? Hey?” A hand latches onto my arm and I’m forced to stop.

“You’re awfully pushy, aren’t you?” I sneer at the strawberry blond in front of me. 

She wrinkles her nose and her freckles dance across it. “I’m Bennett’s sister. I wanted to talk to you.”

Bennett’s sister?

My eyes widen in surprise. “Oh.”

“Is there somewhere we could talk more privately?” She swirls her finger through the air, and sure enough there are several students, and even a professor, loitering as they try to eavesdrop on our conversation.

“Uh … there’s a coffee shop around the corner.”

She shakes her head. “Not private enough.”

“My dorm?” I suggest half-heartedly.

She brightens at this. “Perfect.”

I’m not too thrilled about this, but I lead her in the direction of my dorm. 

“How did you find me?” 

She shrugs. “I’m a journalist. It’s what I do.”

“Find people?”

She laughs. “Yes, it’s part of the job. I knew if I waited around campus long enough I’d eventually spot you.”

“So …” I pause. “Bennett didn’t put you up to this?”

She shakes her head adamantly. “God no. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.”

“Why
are
you here?” 

“We’ll discuss inside,” she says as we start up the stairs to the building.

My heart races as I wonder what she has to say. I want to forgive Bennett so bad, to believe this isn’t real, but the proof … I can’t deny that, and I can’t be with someone that would do something like that. 

I feel like it takes forever to finally reach my room and when we do, she promptly closes the door behind us.

“First, I feel like I should introduce myself. I’m Sabrina.” She holds out her hand for me to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her, “but horrible circumstances.”

She winces. “Yes, horrible.” She pulls out my desk chair and takes a seat without my offering. I end up sitting on the end of my bed, facing her.

“You said you’re a journalist. You’re not here for an interview, are you?” I ask hesitantly.

Her eyes—the same unique hazel color as Bennett’s—widen in surprise. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why are you here?” I echo my question from earlier.

“Because, I think you should know that Bennett didn’t do this.”

I try not to roll my eyes, but it’s a serious effort. “But the proof—”

“Is false, just like the steroids.”

I shake my head. “Yeah, I thought he was telling the truth about the steroids too, but now I think that was just a lie. I think his coach has been innocent in this whole thing and Bennett’s blaming his screw-ups on the poor man.”

Sabrina shakes her head. “Is that what you
really
think?”

“Yes,” I say, but my voice wobbles.

“Bennett is a lot of things,” Sabrina says solemnly, “and I know he doesn’t have the best track record, but he’s a good guy and he loves you. He’s heartbroken about this, and let me tell you: I’ve never seen my brother torn up over a woman the way he is with you.”

“He hasn’t come to see me,” I admit softly.

“Would you have spoken to him if he had?” she counters with a raised brow.

“Well, no,” I admit.

“Exactly.” She gives me a small smile. “You can believe what you want, Grace, but trust me when I say he’s doing everything he can to prove his innocence.” She stands and opens the door, but pauses before leaving. She levels a look at me over her shoulder. “I just hope by the time he does it isn’t too late to fix things.”

I feel like I’m on
America’s Most Wanted
and everyone in the whole fucking United States is hunting me down. I haven’t left my apartment in six days and the paparazzi are still camped outside my house. The fucking vultures. I’m tempted to throw water balloons on them but I’m pretty sure that would make everyone hate me even more. My social media accounts have been going off non-stop with notifications, most of them from people calling me names. They’re favorite name seems to be
pig
.

I’m honestly amazed by how many people will rally together to
tear
someone apart but so few build each other up. 

People love drama, even if they say they don’t.

I tap my fingers against the kitchen counter. 

A plan. I need a plan.

My life has imploded before my eyes and I’m not going to sit idly by while the last remnants of it fly away.

A key in the door rattles, and a moment later, Sabrina steps into my apartment.

“Hey,” I greet her with a half-hearted wave.

She closes and locks the door behind her and holds out a to-go bag from my favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Eat, you’re losing too much weight,” she scolds.

“It’s not my fault I can’t leave my apartment to get groceries.”

She rolls her eyes. “Then use your computer and order them, Bennie.”

“You can do that?” I ask, setting the bag down on the counter and pulling out the boxes.

She sets her purse down and pulls out one of the barstools. “Yes, of course. God, you’re such a guy.”

I grin and open one of the boxes. “Mmm, my favorite. You’re the best, Bina.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she chimes. “You owe me, yada-yada-yada.”

I chuckle and dump the serving of chicken on a plate, add noodles, and an egg roll.

Enlisting my journalist sister to help me is probably the best decision I’ve ever made. If there’s a loose end she’ll sniff it out. My parents want to help in any way they can but there’s nothing for them to do. They want to be here with me in the city too, but I insisted on them staying home. The media would hound them to death here, and after my dad’s stroke he doesn’t need that kind of stress. I don’t worry about Sabrina. She can hold her own against the vultures.

“Have you found out anything?” I ask, taking a large bite of egg roll.

“Not yet,” she admits with a defeated sigh. “Give me time.”

“Time,” I repeat. “I don’t have much left of it.”

“I know,” she says sadly. “I know.”

“That’s it. We’re going out,” Elle announces, bouncing up from her bed.

I frown from mine. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Nuh-huh.” She shakes her head. “You don’t get to decide. You’ve been moping around for a
month
solid, and I won’t stand for it any longer. You’ve wallowed enough. We’re going out. Makenna and Celine will come too. I’ll even ask Ryland if he wants to tag along as our unofficial bodyguard.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I doubt I’ll be much fun.”

“I don’t care.” She puts her hands on her hips. “All I want is to see you leave this god-forsaken campus and do
something
.”

I can’t blame her. All I’ve done since returning from break is go to class and come back to the dorm. I haven’t even wanted coffee—and definitely not cupcakes—because it reminded me too much of Bennett.

I miss him. I miss him so much. I’ve picked up my phone to call him more times than I care to admit but I always set my phone back down when I think about that girl he might’ve raped. My heart tells me he would never do that, I
know
him, but the evidence is there and I feel wrong to support him if it’s true. 

Even with all that I still love him. I can’t turn my feelings off like a switch. I wish I could. It would make things so much easier.

“What do you have in mind?” I place the magazine I was reading on my bed.

“A club.” She grins wickedly and runs to her closet. “A sexy dress and dancing
has
to make you feel better.”

I suppress my groan. I doubt either of those things will make me feel better, but I don’t want to burst Elle’s bubble. She’s been really sweet and there for me through this whole thing. She even confessed that she feels guilty being so happy with Ryland while I’m miserable. I told her that was silly but it still didn’t erase the worry from her eyes. 

Elle rifles through her closet and tosses me a black garment. I hold the dress up and my eyes widen. It’s not the most scandalous thing she could’ve given me but it has several sections cut out with mesh, making it a lot sexier than it otherwise would be. The skirt flares out at the hips and ends above the knee area.

“Put that on,” she orders. “I’m going to let Makenna and Celine know what we’re up to.”

I nod, feeling rather guilty at the mention of their names. They’ve tried to come around me in the last month and I’ve blown them off, afraid that they were like everyone else and only wanted to know what really happened—if the allegations are true.

I set the dress on my bed and go to work on my hair and makeup. 

Elle returns and does the same.

I straighten my hair and twist it back into a slick ponytail and then do my makeup heavier than normal with lots of blacks and gray. On my lips I even use a daring black lipstick. It’s definitely not my go-to style but I figure I might as well be daring and different.