“Dr. Zach, I can explain—”

  “Rose.”

  I pause, glancing up to find him standing near the front row of seats. We’re not alone, I notice. There’s an older man sitting in the back of the lecture hall and… he doesn’t look amused.

  “Go to my office,” Dr. Zach says. “We’ll talk soon.”

  I swallow hard before gathering my things.

  I wait in his office for over a half hour. In that time, John calls my phone eight times. He texts me even more. I ignore him, my nerves too shook to even try to talk to him.

  Who was that man in class today?

  Finally, the door opens. I rise out of my chair, turning around to face him as Dr. Zach walks in. He’s alone, thankfully.

  I exhale hard. “Dr. Zach, I am so sorry for disrupting class like that. I don’t know what I was thinking…”

  He crosses his arms. “I don’t know what you were thinking, either.”

  “It wasn’t what it looked like. I can explain—”

  “I am no stranger to subtext, Rose,” he says. “It’s very clear to us what just happened.”

  “Us?” I ask.

  Dr. Zach takes a few wide steps behind his desk. “That visitor we had in class today was the new department head,” he says.

  My breath catches. “Oh.”

  “He dropped in to do a surprise audit. Examine the class. Evaluate our performance.”

  I close my eyes, my cheeks darkening. “Crap.”

  “Yeah.” He sits down at his desk. “Crap.”

  “I am so, so sorry, Dr. Zach,” I say. “It won’t happen again. I swear.”

  “You’re right. It won’t happen again because you’re suspended from teaching this course.”

  My jaw drops. “What? No, I—”

  “There are plenty of other graduate students just waiting for an opportunity like this, Rose,” he says. “Students who would never publicly disrupt a learning environment with a lovers’ quarrel and, until now, I thought you were among them.”

  “I am.”

  “Apparently not. I gave you a perfectly reasonable set of ethical guidelines. I can’t ignore this violation, Rose.”

  “Dr. Zach, please—”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice dry and cold. “I’ll take over the class from here.”

  I stand still, barely breathing as my throat tightens.

  He waves, so very done with me. “You may go now.”

  I grab my bag. It nearly slips from my grasp twice before I can toss the strap over my shoulder. I feel like I should say something, anything, but I walk out in silence instead.

  Nope, I was wrong.

  This is rock bottom.

  “Rose.”

  I look up to see John lingering at the end of the hall.

  I shake my head. “No,” I say. “Go away.”

  “I am so—”

  “No,” I say as I pass him. “No, you don’t get to keep apologizing to me. I don’t think I can take another one.”

  He follows, staying beside me with easy strides. “I should have kept my mouth shut—”

  “Kind of like right now.”

  “Darling—”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  He blocks my path to the stairs. “What can I do?” he asks. “Please. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

  I swallow my tears, but the lump builds even larger in my throat. “Actually, you know what? There is something you can do, John. You can disappear.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I don’t? Look at me, John. I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost my job, my reputation—”

  “He fired you?”

  “An argument could be made about my innocence, too.”

  “Rose, I—”

  “I’ve lost everything because of you, but look at you!” I gesture at him. “Not a fucking scratch.”

  He shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

  “You get your trifecta. You get your football championship. You experience no real consequence for any of this at all. No one’s stepping up to take anything from you when you’re the one who started this. Does that seem fair to you?”

  “No,” he says.

  A tear falls down my cheek. “You can disappear now, John.”

  “Rose…”

  I ignore him, bolting for the stairs. I refuse to stop until I march out of Prism Hall into the quad. He must have gotten the message. Good. The last thing I want is to bicker with him in the middle of campus.

  “Whoa, baby!”

  I stop and look up to see Douglas Floyd’s fucking smirk.

  He raises his sunglasses and sets them on his head while he looks me up and down. “Sweetheart, you sure are hot when you’re pissed.”

  Rage boils within me and my reflexes snap. I jolt forward and kick upward with my knee, nailing him hard in the groin before I even realize what I’m doing.

  Douglas doubles over onto the sidewalk. Onlookers cringe. Some laugh and whip out their phones to snap a picture.

  “Fuck you, Douglas,” I say as I pass around him.

  The crowd makes a path for me, slinking back in fear. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to cross paths with me either right now.

  I thump up the stairs of my apartment building, each step feeling heavier than the last. My short-term memory has officially gone bye-bye, as I don’t quite remember how I got home. I run on autopilot, pausing as I arrive at my door and reaching into my bag to find my keys.

  The door swings open, and I jump as terror twists my nerves.

  “Surprise!”

  I grip my chest. My mirror image grins at me, except she’s missing her glasses. And really likes black eyeliner. “Daisy?!”

  She lunges forward, throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Are you kidding?” she asks, pulling me inside. “Some asshole hurt my sister. Again. I dropped everything as fast as I could and hopped on the first flight out here.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” I glance at the door. “Wait, did you break in?”

  “Never mind that. Now…” She raises her closed fists. “Where is he? Point me at him.”

  I collapse against her again, burying my face in her shoulder as tears finally spill out.

  “Okay.” She pats my back. “I guess I arrived just in time. What happened?”

  “I just got fired,” I say, my voice muffled.

  Daisy deflates and leads me to the couch. “Sit down. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  I fall against the pillows, hugging them tightly. “There’s some whiskey in the fridge!”

  “I’ll make us some Irish coffee, then...”

  CHAPTER 29

  JOHN

  Not a fucking scratch.

  She’s right, of course. Doesn’t feel like it now. Right now, it feels like someone shoved a cleat through my chest and twisted it. But I’ll get over that. I didn’t lose my job. My reputation remains intact. I’m still John Kirby, the quickest halfback Chicago North has ever seen.

  But she’s wrong, too. I have lost something, and it’s more important than all that other shit.

  Her. My Rose.

  I drift across campus toward the Delta Xi house, lost in thought, until the outside noise grows louder and louder. I reach the street and pause, the street entirely blocked off by Northies. A strange sight in the middle of the day, even for Greek Row.

  Whatever, I think, eager to get through the crowd. I just want to get upstairs to my room and sulk for a while.

  As I push through, I find out what they’re all intrigued by. Unfortunately, it’s a spectacle on the Delta Xi front lawn.

  I reach the grass and my jaw drops.

  It’s Drew Rose sitting in a little kiddie pool, his clothes and skin covered in green paint and dirt. Seth sits nearby, looking smug as all hell.

  Okay.

  What did I miss here?

  “You look upset, Johnny.”

  I feel her grasp my arm, gently tugging me closer to her. Samantha flashes a soft wink and presses her chest against my elbow to pooch her cleavage a little more.

  “No, just…” I shake my head. “Long day, that’s all.” I gesture toward Seth and Drew. “What’s this all about?”

  “You didn’t hear?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “Drew banged Seth’s little sister.”

  I deflate. “Really?”

  “Right?” She chuckles. “I didn’t think the guy had it in him.”

  Fuck.

  Now I owe Grant ten dollars.

  This day could not get worse.

  I slide my arm free from her grasp. “I’ll see you later, Samantha.”

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “Upstairs,” I say.

  “You want some company?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Samantha frowns. “Goddammit.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “No, it’s fine. Go! Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

  I pause. “What’s up, Sam?”

  She sighs. “Junior’s married. Ty’s gay. Douglas is a fucking jerk. And now you’re…”

  “Preoccupied.”

  “Whatever the hell that means.” She crosses her arms. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a little dick around here?”

  I smile. “You have my sympathies, Samantha.”

  “That doesn’t help me.”

  “Actually…” I look her up and down as a little clarity takes hold. “I think we can help each other.”

  Samantha squints. “How?”

  “Do you know Dr. Payton Zach?”

  “The chem guy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, yes. I know Dr. Zach.” She smirks. “I know Dr. Zach very well.”

  I fucking knew it.

  “Really?” I ask, seething inside.

  “Hey, you aren’t the only one who went for their trifecta this year.”

  I bow my head, impressed. “Kudos to you, Ms. Jaxx.”

  She curtsies. “Thank you.”

  “Do you think you could… trifecta him again for me?” I ask.

  “Maybe.” She raises a brow. “Why?”

  “Because he’s a hypocritical jackass and I need to prove it,” I say. “A few incriminating selfies with you should do the trick, I think.”

  She tilts her head. “But what do I get out of it?”

  “His dick, mostly.”

  “Ah.” She nods. “All right. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, Samantha.”

  She fetches her phone from her pocket. “Bye-bye, Johnny,” she says with a little extra pep in her step.

  It’s always nice to help out a friend.

  I should stop drinking.

  I should be downing protein shakes and carbs to fuel up for the final game on Saturday, but that doesn’t give me the buzz I need to make it through the night without her.

  Rose.

  She won’t take my calls. She won’t answer my texts.

  I’ve officially blown it.

  Greek Row eventually died down, but the party moved inside. This is Delta Xi, after all. As for me, I elected to get drunk upstairs alone.

  I peek into the bottom of my bottle. Empty.

  But I’m not done drinking yet, so…

  I get up and walk downstairs, gently wandering through the rowdy crowd on my way to the kitchen. Before I reach it, someone blocks my path in the hallway. I look up, annoyed, but it’s just Grant and his grinning face.

  “Oh,” I say. “Right.”

  I reach for my wallet, withdrawing two fives and handing them to him.

  He looks at the money for a second, then regards me with a gentle expression. I prepare for some of his unique brand of sass, but to my surprise, he says nothing. He drops the money back into my palm and rests a kind hand on my shoulder. A quick squeeze and he’s gone, lost to the crowd gathering in the sitting area for beer pong.

  Perceptive little shit.

  I continue to the kitchen, absently taking my phone from my pocket as I walk. No texts. No emails. Rose wasn’t messing around when she told me to disappear. She’s officially crossed me out of her life. Existence denied.

  Please call me ba—

  I stop myself, quickly deleting the text and putting my phone away as I reach the keg. I grab a cup off the stack and fill it to the brim. Hopefully, it’s enough to black me out for the rest of the night.

  A shape rushes past my peripheral vision as I angle toward the stairs. Short. Blonde. It’s so common and familiar that I can’t help but twitch in its direction.

  Nothing. Just a sea of Northies doing what they do best.

  I shake it off and take a drink, staring into the emerging bottom of the cup. As I lower it down, she passes in front of me again across the house and stops as soon as her eyes lock on me.

  I squint. Short. Blonde. But there’s more. Her little nose. Her perky lips. She comes into focus. All of her.

  “Rose?” I mutter, excitement building in me.

  She bounds toward me. I step forward, eager to close the vicious gap between us and embrace her.

  But then, her features look off. Tainted. My thoughts work slowly through my buzzed state, but the obvious conclusion doesn’t strike me until she halts in front of me.

  Either Rose started wearing contact lenses and skinny jeans or this is—

  Her palm collides with my cheek, firing a deep pain through my eye socket. A few people nearby gasp in surprise as I rub my face and sigh.

  “Okay,” I say. “You are not Rose.”

  She smiles. “Head of the class, Johnny.”

  I look into her eyes. They’re the same eyes as Rose’s, but they’re hidden behind a thick ring of black eyeliner.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Daisy,” I say.

  Daisy stretches her petite stature as she gazes around the room. “Is there somewhere more private we can go to converse?” she asks.

  “Sure.”

  I gesture for her to follow me toward the stairs and she does, not at all caring about the shocked faces as we pass people by.

  So, this is Rose’s twin sister. Strangely, I pictured her to be more… you know, identical, but Daisy seems more like an evil doppelgänger than a genetic duplicate. I glance back occasionally to make sure she’s not readying a shiv to shank me with, but she just glares with those angry eyes.

  I lead her to my room on the second floor. “Sorry,” I say. “Forgive the mess.”

  Daisy kicks the door closed behind us and glares around with an upturned nose. “Smells like… ugh, never mind.” She leans against my dresser, just barely touching it, while I plop down on my bed with my beer still clenched in one hand.

  “So, what brings you all the way out here, Daisy?”

  “Oh, I just love the Midwest this time of year,” she says, sneering. “The leaves change, the birds migrate, and — oh, yeah — it’s football season, so jerks like you line up to hurt my sister.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt Rose,” I say, pouring the rest of my drink down my throat and tossing the cup aside. “It was all just a…”

  “A big misunderstanding?” she asks. “An accident? Like you just tripped and fell into the middle of a giant douchebag challenge?”

  “A mistake,” I say. “It was a stupid and selfish mistake that I’ve already apologized for, but I’ll have to live with it.”

  Daisy stares me down. “Rose…” She bites her lip. “How can I put this? Rose is a delicate flower. She’s fragile and sometimes needs to have the thorns trimmed away so she doesn’t accidentally hurt herself. You following me so far, quarterback?”

  “Halfback.”

  “Yeah, I don’t care. I am a fucking daisy,” she continues. “I grow around the rose. I compliment the rose. I might be smaller, less elegant, and occasionally crazy, but if you try to bring harm to said rose, I will spread like a virus and fuck up your flower beds. You get me?”

  I squint. “What am I in this metaphor?”

  “Depends.” She pushes off the dresser and steps closer. “You can either be the nice and comfy flower bed that nurtures her, or you can be the thorn I pluck away. It’s up to you.”

  “So, you’re here to pluck me?”

  She pauses. “I don’t know.”

  “Or... if I’m the flower bed, won’t I also be nurturing you?”

  “Whatever. It’s not a perfect metaphor. I’m improvising.” She waves her hands. “Forget about the flower stuff and work with me here, halfback.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Daisy, and I admire your charisma.”

  She nods. “Thank you.”

  “I just don’t think redemption is an option.”

  “And you’re probably right. You fucked up. I’ve never seen Rose this pissed off before. At anything.”

  I shrug. “Well, there you go.”

  “But… I’ve never seen her as happy as when she was with you. And I’ve seen my sister fall hard. When she gets a crush, it literally crushes her, but she always got back up again. This time is different.”

  My chest sinks. “Is she okay?”

  “No. Her heart is broken and she lost her job — both of which are your fault.”

  “I know.”

  “But…” She sighs, hesitating. “I’m taking partial responsibility for this problem. I was the one who pushed her to break the rules and go out with you in the first place.”

  “Why?”

  “Because sex is fun, and I wanted my sister to have fun at least once at college.”

  I nod. “Can’t argue with that.”

  “Because that’s what I would have done,” she says. “However, contrary to what our DNA might suggest, Rose and I are two vastly different people.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” I stand up. “So, what am I supposed to do? I told her I loved her and she didn’t care.”

  “What did you expect?” Daisy scoffs. “Those words aren’t magic. They don’t mean anything if your actions say the opposite.”

  “She won’t see me. She won’t return any of my calls or my texts or my emails. What am I supposed to do?” I ask again.