Convenient Fall (Players of Marycliff University Book 2) (21 page)

Wow. It hadn't taken him long to move on. She'd been gone for less than ten minutes. The shots might've gone to his head, but she'd figured he was able to hold his liquor better than this unless he were interested.
 

She blinked hard to try to dispel the burning sensation in her eyes. Someone bumped into her, jostling her out of her frozen state. “Sorry,” they muttered before moving on.

Megan whirled and made her way back to the kitchen and the alcohol. She stopped in the doorway. Shit. She was driving. She couldn't get trashed right now no matter how much she wanted to. Fuck.

Pushing her way back to the front door, she ignored the sounds of annoyance from the people she moved out of her way or slipped between. She could only focus on getting out the door. Once she got to her car she could figure the rest out.
 

She paused on the front step. The cold air hit her like a slap in the face. That was what brought tears to her eyes. The cold. And the wind. That was all. She took a deep, shuddery breath and wrapped her arms around herself. Head down, she started the trek to her car. The temperature had dropped as the wind had picked up. She guessed it was close to freezing now, the sparkling moisture on the sidewalk hinting at either thick frost or ice by morning.

Footsteps pounded behind her, and she moved to the right so whoever was running could pass her easily. A hand grabbed her left bicep, stopping her and turning her around.
 

Chris stood in front of her, breathing hard. She ripped her arm away from him. “What do you want?”

“Where are you going?”

She stared at him for a moment, not even sure how to respond to that. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

An ugly laugh escaped her chest before she could throttle it. It was bad enough that he would know he affected her enough for her to bail like this, but she couldn't handle having him see all of her emotions. It was too raw. Too real. And he didn't deserve that knowledge. She needed to put on her cold bitch face and get away before she couldn't hold it together anymore. “It looked like you had your hands full enough. You don't seem to need me anymore.”

He ran a hand through his hair and over his face, a gesture of frustration that she recognized. It also meant he didn't know what to say or do. Fan-fucking-tastic. He didn't even know how to defend himself. The simplest defense being that she attacked him or something. Not that that was likely judging by what she'd seen. Or that he wasn't into it, even if that bitch had climbed onto him uninvited. “Fuck, Megan. I don't know what you saw, but I promise it wasn't what it looked like.”

Another bark of laughter came out, this one more incredulous. “That's rich, Chris. So there wasn't a redhead in your lap with her tongue down your throat? I just imagined that?” She snorted and turned to head for the car.

His hand fell on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off, not even looking back. “Megan. Listen! Wait a goddamn minute and let me tell you what happened!”

She cast a look over her shoulder, but didn't stop. Chris was keeping pace beside her. “You know what? It doesn't even matter. It's not like this could ever go anywhere anyway. We both know this was just about convenience. If you're ready to move on to another fuck buddy, or a series of hookups like you used to do, that's your business. The season's over, so you'll have more time for that kind of shit anyway, right? I just don't want to watch, that's all.”

She put her head down and started to walk faster. It wasn't like Chris wouldn't be able to keep up. Even buzzed he could outrun her any day. He was in good shape and his legs were longer than hers. But she hoped he'd get the point that she was done with this conversation, done with him, and to leave her alone.
 

He followed her as far as her car, stopping on the sidewalk by the passenger door while she went around the car to the driver's side. She looked at him over the roof of the car. His face was twisted like he was in pain and goosebumps danced over the bare skin of his arms.
 

“Fuck, Megan. Please? Just listen. You don't have to talk, just listen. Please.”

She shook her head, not trusting her voice to speak without breaking. Her hands were remarkably steady when she shoved the key in the ignition. She slammed the car into drive and pulled away from the curb without even bothering to signal. Fortunately no cars were coming.
 

On the way back to the house she realized that she was so screwed. She and Chris shared a room. All their stuff was intermingled. Even if he had his own room still, what was she going to do? She couldn't stay in that house, couldn't handle seeing him. What if he brought some chick home?
 

She pulled over on the side of the road, not entirely sure where she was. In her anger and hurt, she'd just been driving, not paying attention to where she was going. She pulled out her phone and sent a text to Abby. Maybe she could crash there while she figured shit out. At least the semester would be over soon. Finding a roommate would be easier between semesters. Not as good as at the beginning or end of summer, but better than mid-semester.
 

Come back to the party. I'll meet you out front and give you my key.
 

Megan let out a breath at the text in her hand. She was a little nervous about going back to the party. What if Chris tried to talk to her again? She couldn't handle that right now. It was only through years of practice from dealing with her parents that she was able to keep the rage and tears in check. But her tenuous hold on her emotions wouldn't last much longer. She needed to get her things and get to Abby's house before she let it out. She couldn't even let out a little of her frustration for fear that everything would come out before she was somewhere safe.

Okay. Be there in 5. Don't tell anyone.

I have to tell Lance you'll be at our apartment tonight. But I won't tell him I'm handing off my key until you're gone.

Good enough. Thanks.

Paying more attention and using her blinker this time, Megan turned around and headed back to the party. She pulled up in front of the house where Abby stood shivering in her long sleeved t-shirt, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, wisps of blonde hair that had come free from her ponytail whipping in the wind. Megan rolled down the window and Abby thrust the key into her hand, leaned in, and hugged her.

“Thanks again, Abs.”

“Anytime. I'll make sure the guys get home. You'll have to crash on the couch. See you when Lance and I get home.”

“Right. Thanks. See you there.”

Abby waved before she turned and ran back to the door, in a hurry to get out of the cold. Megan left again, paying more attention to where she was going this time. Her first stop was at the house to pack some essentials. She wasn't sure how long she'd be at Abby and Lance's house, but figured she could come back for more once things were sorted out, so she threw her toiletries, makeup, pjs and a change of clothes in her backpack. At the last second she grabbed a sketch pad and her pastels and stuffed them in before she grabbed her phone charger and headed for Lance and Abby's. She hoped Lance kept the fridge stocked with beer. She planned on drinking whatever she could find and paying them back for it later.

* * *

“Megan!” Chris pushed the front door shut, barely managing not to slam it. He flexed his hands at his sides while he waited for an answer that didn't come. The house was quiet, the lights all off. The door to their bedroom was cracked, no telltale spill of light flooding out. He ran his hands through his hair, clutched it in his hands and pulled, trying to use the sting of pain on his scalp to help him focus, to figure out what to do.

He pushed the door open and held his breath, hoping to find her curled on the bed, or the door to the bathroom closed, indicating she might be in there. But the room was still, no signs of life anywhere. The bed looked the same as it had when he'd left earlier, the blankets a little rumpled, but no sign anyone had been in it in the last few hours. Megan's things were all still there, no sign of hurried packing and leaving. He let out his breath, relieved at that. She just hadn't come home yet, maybe.
 

After Megan had left, he'd gone back inside, drained a cup of beer, then thought better of getting raging drunk. He needed to talk to Megan, and he needed to be sober, or mostly sober, to do that. He'd found Abby and argued with her for ten or fifteen minutes to convince her to take him home. Matt and Lance had just sat there watching them argue. Finally, she'd given in. Maybe Megan was somewhere else, blowing off some steam before she came home and had to confront him. He nodded to himself. Yeah. That was probably what was going on.
 

Chris flipped on the light in the bathroom. He needed to pee before he sat on the couch with a bottle of Gatorade to wait for her. The relief that had just settled in his chest coalesced and turned to ice, dropping low in his belly. There was too much space on the little bathroom counter. Megan's bag of makeup and the lotions she kept next to it were gone. He yanked open the door to the shower stall and noted the absence of her shampoo, conditioner, and razor.
 

She'd already been home and left. Going back into the bedroom, he noticed that her backpack wasn't in its usual spot and her phone charger wasn't plugged in next to the bed either. A cursory glance at the closet told him that she hadn't taken much with her, but it was clear that she wouldn't be back tonight.

Chris turned and punched the doorframe. “Fuck!”

It was obvious now that Abby had argued with him to give Megan time to get in and out of the house before he could get home. Why hadn't he seen that before? He had thought he'd worn her down with his stubbornness, but she had capitulated too easily when it came down to it.

“Motherfucker.” He kept up a steady stream of muttered curses while he grabbed the Gatorade out of the fridge, whatever buzz he'd managed to achieve at the party long since gone. This whole day had been a huge clusterfuck. And he wasn't sure how to fix any of it.

He pulled out his phone and texted Megan.
Where are you? We need to talk.

He stared at it, willing her to text him back. Setting the phone on the kitchen counter so he wouldn't chuck it across the room in his frustration, he took a few deep breaths and chugged the sports drink. When he was done, he still hadn't gotten a response. He threw the empty bottle at the door to the side yard instead of his phone. It didn't help.

Abby. She had to know where Megan was.
Where's Megan?

He tapped his fingers on the edge of his phone while he waited for her to answer. Surely she wouldn't just ignore him. After what felt like an eternity, but was really more like two minutes, his message showed that it had been read and the three little dots were flashing to indicate that she was typing. Final-fucking-ly. Maybe now he'd get some kind of answer.

Megan needs some space right now.

No she doesn't. She needs to talk to me.

The pause this time was longer. But Abby texted back.
She saw you kissing another chick. Who was sitting on your lap. I'm not sure what there is for you to talk about.

That's not what happened. You were there, tell her what went down and then have her call me.

I was in the bathroom. All I know is what I was told. Megan saw you kissing someone else.
 

Fuck fuck fuck. Could he not catch a break? If Abby had witnessed what happened, then this misunderstanding would be over already. Matt or Lance had to have seen that chick climb on him and maul his face and then him toss her on the floor. That room was full of people. He had to be able to get someone to tell her what really happened, even if she wouldn't listen to him.

Is she at your place?

He was already grabbing his keys and heading out the door when her response came in.
 

Give her some space. You can try to talk tomorrow.

Fuck that. He was going to explain himself if he had to bust down the door. Lance would understand. Lance had to be on his side.

The drive to Lance and Abby's apartment seemed to take far longer than normal. The lights were all red, and he kept getting stuck behind the slowest people in town. He needed to talk to Megan. Now. Waiting like this was torture.

He slammed the car in park in the closest spot to their door he could find. The rain stung his bare arms. He'd left his jacket somewhere, and he couldn't even remember where.
 

His fist hammered the door. “Megan! We need to talk!” He pounded again.

After beating on the door yet again, it swung open and Lance filled the space. Chris tried to muscle past him, but Lance's hands on his chest pushed him back and held him outside the door. Chris pushed against him, trying to see over his shoulder into the apartment, but he couldn't see anyone inside.
 

“Whoa, Chris. Back up. I said back up!”

Lance shoved him, and Chris stumbled back a couple steps. Lance took advantage of the space and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him. Chris had been hoping that Lance had gotten softer since he wasn't playing anymore and Chris was just coming off a season full of hard workouts and harder practices. No such luck. Lance still lifted regularly from the looks of it.