“I was bored at home. Beckham’s studying for finals and not being any fun, so I thought I’d see what kind of trouble I could find.” She flips her curly hair over her shoulder, giving me a better vantage point to the exposed skin on her chest, and licks her lips. “It looks like I hit the jackpot.”

I hiss in a sharp breath at the mention of both Beckham and finals as my thoughts immediately fill with images of Hudson’s smiling face and the soothing sound of her laugh. What is it with that girl? I can’t even talk to another chick—an incredibly hot one, who’s all but verbally offering a no-strings attached fuckfest—without her screwing with my mind. God, it’s so damn infuriating.

I forcibly push her from my mind, filling my eyes with Tasha’s huge tits instead. They’re bigger than Hudson’s, and I wonder if it’s possible for them to feel softer than hers. I shake my head hard. Hudson’s gone; by my choice, she’s no longer my girl. No longer my anything. Tasha’s warm body is right here for the taking, and I’m not feeling picky.

“Looks like you did.” I curl the edge of my mouth up in my signature cocky smirk that never fails me. “What do you think the payout is?”

Without a second of hesitation, she drops her arm to my lap and cups my crotch through my jeans, all while keeping her flirtatious gaze locked on mine. “I’m hoping for the grand prize.”

“Greedy girl.” I do nothing to remove her hand while pretending not to feel the freshly-sharpened daggers Rory’s launching in my direction every five seconds.

She leans in closer, lust radiating from every inch of her. “You’ve got no fucking clue, baby.”

Consider my tipsy interest piqued, my shaft firmly at attention under her stroking fingers. Shifting my attention back to Rory, I angle my head toward Tasha and call out, “T and I each need a couple of shots, Rors. I’m on a hunt for a clue, and I think Mr. Patron can help me find it.”

He snarls at me, making no attempt to hide his disapproval, but pours the tequila anyway, placing two in front of both her and me. “That’s all I can serve ya, man. Don’t need you getting pulled over for drunk driving or anything worse.”

“Don’t worry, Boring Roring,” Tasha insists, lifting one of the shots in the air while keeping her stare fixed on me. “He’s going home with me tonight. I’ll make sure he gets there safely.”

I nod my head without thinking, amused at her presumptuous statement. “I am?” Glad someone has a plan for me.

She clinks her small glass into the side of mine then throws her head back, guzzling the liquid with one swallow. “You are,” she confirms as she lifts her finger up to her lips, swiping away a tiny drop from the corner of her mouth. Then, drawing the digit between her teeth, she sucks on it in a way that has my cock pulsing.

As I down the drinks sitting in front of me, I run through my options for places to go other than Tasha’s. I come up fucking blank. Hudson’s is out. As is mom’s boyfriend’s, and our old place. I’m never going back there fucking again. So it’s pretty much a no-brainer at this point. I know the bulge in my boxers will be thrilled at my decision. Maybe Rory’s wrong about Tasha. Maybe’s he’s just jealous that he doesn’t get a piece, because his brother banged her first. Maybe I just don’t fucking care anymore.

Pulling out my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, I toss a few twenties down on the bar as I stand up. I glance down at her with a wicked grin and tilt my head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Fuck yes! That’s it! Fuck me harder, Crew!”

Tasha hasn’t shut up since I stuck my dick inside her—wrapped up nice and tight, ‘cause I may be drunk, but I’m not that fucking stupid—and it’s really annoying the shit out of me. I’ve already flipped her over on her hands and knees so I don’t have to watch the ridiculous faces she makes, and I’m seriously contemplating a gag at this point.

Sure, her pussy feels good. It’s warm and wet and all that shit, but there’s just something missing. And as I’m driving into her with every ounce of strength I have, my eyelids squeezed closed, I can’t put my finger on it exactly.

“I’m gonna come….don’t stop that…yes, just like that! Oh, yessssssssss! Oh my God, Crew!”

Her body suddenly collapses into the mattress, and I have to make a quick withdrawal before she contorts my shaft into some abnormal position. Stepping back away from her bed a few feet, I stand with my cock in my hand staring at her motionless body. I guess she came, though I didn’t feel anything different when she did, or maybe she just passed out? Both? I can’t tell for sure.

Unsure of what I should do, I quietly whisper. “T? You okay?”

She doesn’t respond.

“T,” I hiss a little louder. “What are you doing?”

Still nothing.

Are you fucking kidding me? She got hers and that’s it? Not that it was anything spectacular, and though we’ve been going at it for well over an hour now, I’m still a long ass way away from my own release …ain’t that some bullshit? Rory was fucking right.

Groaning, I gather my clothes from her bedroom floor, using them to cover up my floundering erection on my hunt for a bathroom. Gratefully, the first room I choose off the hall is one, and as soon as I’m behind the locked door, I turn the hot water on full blast.

Discarding the condom into the trashcan, I avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I hate myself enough at the moment as the reality of what I’ve just done sinks into my now sober mind, I don’t need to see my pathetic reflection. The sad part is even though I know I’ve hit rock bottom, I’m not sure I care enough to do anything about it.

I deserve to be a miserable fuck for the way I let Caleb down. I deserve to be alone for the rest of my life—just like he was at the end. It’s only fitting.

Once I’m standing under the scalding hot water, I tilt my face into the harsh spray, allowing the moisture from my eyes to mix with the stream from the shower. Then, with the image of Hudson writhing underneath me in my bed, her sapphire blue eyes peering up at me with love and adoration, I stroke my cock for less than two minutes before I’m coming all over the shower drain.

Drying off quickly, I put my clothes from earlier back on and walk out into the living room, wishing more than anything I could leave this damn apartment. Unfortunately, I don’t have my car, nor do I have any place to go. I glance down the hall at Tasha’s door, knowing I’m damn well not sleeping in bed with her, and then at the empty couch against the wall.

I stalk over to the leather sectional and lie down, without a pillow or blanket, and eventually fall asleep, wondering if this nightmare will ever end. But all I dream about is eyes—Hudson’s full of life, and Caleb’s flat with death.

Glancing down at my history notebook, all I see is a chaotic mess of squiggly lines, arrows, and question marks, the perfect representation of what I hear when I’m sitting through Dr. Langford’s lectures. The woman jumps from topic to topic so fast I’m lucky if I don’t have whiplash when I walk out of her class. And I currently have twenty-four hours to make heads or tails of this rubbish scribbled on my papers, or risk failing the class.

I attempt to reread the highlighted passage from the text for the fourth time, but yet again, I retain none of it. Slamming the book shut, I chuck it to the other side of the bed—the side that still smells like him—and fall back on my pillow with a frustrated groan, staring up at the blank ceiling.

It’s been three days since I stormed out of the coffeehouse, leaving Crew and Mary behind. I’ve talked to her several times since, and neither of us has heard from him. Not a single text. He hasn’t come for his clothes, which I gathered and packed in his bag that sits in the corner of the room, taunting me ruthlessly, and nobody seems to know where he’s staying. Dakota and Juno went on a reconnaissance mission up to Half Pipe last night, but he wasn’t working, and whoever they talked to claimed not to know anything.