Rejected By The Alpha Quarterback

CHAPTER 6

HAZEL

I wouldn’t go as far as to call Asher James a friend. We have a bunch of classes together and yes, we see each other at parties but this is new territory for us. Until yesterday, I hadn’t thought of him in any special sort of way. When I arrived at the party last night, never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined myself hooking up with the school’s biggest Neanderthal.

This has got to be a record for me. Of all the reckless things I’ve ever done, this takes the cake.

Do I regret it though? No, I don’t. By the time I had fallen into bed with Asher, I had been hurting and wanted to shut everything off. But then, I didn’t think Nick would show up the way he did. Didn’t expect Asher to leave his sweatshirt behind and that Nick would see it.

It wasn’t until Nick had seen that sweatshirt that it had dawned on me— that maybe there was more to last night than I had originally thought.

Perhaps having s*x with Asher last night isn’t so much about wanting to shut my thoughts off but more about wanting to get back at the asshole that hurt me.

I had seen an opportunity to make Nick hurt the way he had hurt me and I had taken it.

If only I don’t have to deal with the aftermath of such impulsive actions.

“Going somewhere freckles?” Asher’s low rumble grates on my nerves.

Did someone who gets his daily kicks from teasing the s**t out of me, he’s definitely pulling all the stops right now, wicked eyes gleaming with devious intent; lips curled upwards in a nasty little smirk, meant to make me squirm; and then, there’s the massive body caging me in, as if to say ‘look Hazel Bell, I’ve got you exactly where I want you.’

Again, I regret having given in to my impulse, running away from my dorm when I should have stayed put. If I hadn’t run away, if I had just kicked Nick out instead, I wouldn’t be dealing with Asher right now.

Seriously, why do I have to run into him first thing in the morning, after breaking up with my boyfriend?

Why does he get to see me looking so unkempt, like some ragged doll that the cat dragged in?

I want to scream. I settle for trying to sidestep Asher instead. I’m not surprised when he blocks my path, preventing my escape.

“For a slight little thing, you’re quite fast on your feet,” he says it like it’s supposed to be a compliment. But I know better.

Asher isn’t the kind to dole out compliments, especially not to someone like me.

“Is there a reason why you decided to chase me first thing in the morning?” I demand, showing him with my glare how pissed I am. “What are you even doing here in the female side of campus?”

“Last time I checked wolfling, you don’t own the university.”

“What did I tell you about calling me a wolfling?!” My eyes flash, betraying my fury.

He snorts, unfazed by my temper. “Why are you in such a bad mood? Shouldn’t you be a bit more relaxed after the way I’d f****d you last night?”

“What?” My face drains of color. I have to do a quick scan around; to make sure that no one had heard that. When I bring my eyes back to him, I’m glaring daggers. “Is there a reason why you’re trying to announce to the entire school that I’d made the worst mistake of my life, last night?”

“I would hardly call it a mistake, going to the way you were moaning and making a bloody mess of my back with those claws of yours.” He grins, satisfied with the way my face turns red.

“I don’t want to listen to this.” I turn away from him, trying to slither out of his grasp. No such luck. “Seriously Asher! Is there something you want to say to me? If there is, spit it out and stop trying to waste my time.”

He’s probably here to gloat.

Prudish, freckled Hazel Bell he given it up to the renowned playboy Asher James last night.

I must be his greatest conquest till date. Knowing him, he would never let me hear the end of it.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks. And I wait for the joke I’m expecting to follow the question. Several seconds pass and I’m still waiting. And it’s starting to get awkward.

“Um, freckles?” he tilts his head to the side. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” I snap, growing angrier the longer I stare at him. He has the nerve to look so handsome and put together in front of me.

“I just broke up with my boyfriend and I feel like total s**t,” I growl at him. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Damn. That sucks,” he winces and I can’t quite tell if he’s being serious or not.

“You must be thrilled inside, having to watch me suffer.” I scoff. “Enjoy it while you can because it won’t be too long before I bounce back from this.”

“Now, why would I be thrilled about the fact that your boyfriend is a lying, cheating piece of s**t?”

“Isn’t that why you wanted me to come to the party last night? To rub it in my face?”

Saying this out loud adds to the pain I’m already feeling.

“I can see you’re alright, since you’re trying to pick a fight with me in your PJs.”

“f**k you.” I growl. And then, I push past him. This time, he doesn’t block my path.

I’m halfway down the yard when he calls out to me.

“I left something of mine at your place last night… do you mind bringing it to me later today?”

“And why would I do that?” I have a mind to burn that damned sweatshirt.

“There’s a rugby game at noon. Two p.m.” He’s talking like he didn’t heard me. “Consider this an invitation freckles. Don’t forget… bring my sweatshirt.”