Sport AffairsHis Dirty Little Secret

~Samantha Lee~

One second, I was scanning the crowd for Logan, my boyfriend wondering if he was at the party and the next my world crumbled as I watched his lips pressed against Hannah Taylor, the queen bee cheerleader of Cheer Chicks, the same girl who'd tried to make my freshman year a living hell.

My breath hitched. Hannah Taylor, seriously? How could he do this to me?  "Well done Logan," I said and clapped my hands while Logan's eyes widened in shock.

"Sam!" Logan's voice cut through as he pulled away from Hannah, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he was trying to erase the evidence. Too late, buddy.

I didn't say a word, just turned on my heel and walked. I could feel his gaze burning into my back, hear him calling my name, but I didn't even glance over my shoulder. Let him call and choke on it.

As I stomped out of the main party hall and onto the slightly less chaotic outdoor patio of the frat house, Rachel, my best friend and the only sane person I knew, was already there. She'd probably seen the whole thing, her eyes were wide with sympathy.

"Calm down, Sam."

"Don't tell me that Rachel, I'm going to deal with him," I yelled.

"Sam, whoa! Deep breaths, okay? Don't do anything crazy," she said, reaching for my arm.

I stopped, but didn't let her grab me as a slow, dangerous smile stretched across my face. "Crazy? Nah," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "I'm just gonna show Logan that he's not worth my time."

Before Rachel could remind me that "showing him" usually involved a regrettable amount of alcohol and questionable decisions, I spun back around and marched right into the party.

"Sam! Don't you dare!" Rachel's cry was swallowed by the music, but I didn't listen, I never did when I was like this.

The next few hours were a blur of flashing lights, pop music, and the sweetness of frat beer. I stopped by the makeshift bar and grabbed whatever someone handed me, then another, then another. I danced. Oh, did I dance! With random dudes whose names I couldn't remember, their hands too close, their smiles too wide. I laughed too loud, spun too fast, trying to outrun the image of Logan and Hannah.

It was working, sort of. The world started to tilt, the edges of my vision softening. All that liquid courage decided it had had enough. One moment I was laughing at a guy's terrible joke, the next, a wave of nausea hit me like a train. I barely made it to the edge of the dance floor before I bent over, and in an ungraceful, entirely undignified moment, emptied the contents of my stomach all over myself.

"Ugh, gross!" A voice, somewhere above me. "Someone get her out of here!"

Before I knew it, strong hands were on me, not gentle, I was half-carried, half-dragged through the hallways, then, I was dumped onto what felt like a lumpy mattress. A dark hoodie was thrown over me before the door swung shut and heavy footsteps receded.

"Hmph," I grumbled, pushing myself up to a sitting position. My head throbbed, I definitely needed to lie down for more than a moment. I hissed, the vomit still clinging to my clothes. It was probably all over this hoodie now, too. Great! Just great.

I raised my head, intending to collapse back onto the mattress, and in that moment I felt someone in the room.

My eyes snapped open, my bleary vision clearing in a rush of pure, unadulterated shock. Standing there was a practically unclad man. He was only wearing a pair of dark boxer briefs, clinging to him in all the right and wrong places, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, it wasn't just any man.

It was Tyler Pierce.

My arch-nemesis.

My jaw almost hit the floor. Tyler Pierce, the quiet, brooding hockey star who somehow managed to be just as annoyingly good at academics as I was. The guy who always seemed to be one step ahead of me in everything except, maybe, the number of social engagements he actually attended. He was the reason I stayed up late studying, the thorn in my competitive side, the only person who dared to challenge my top-of-the-class position. And now, he was standing in front of me, looking like a Greek god sculpted from lean muscle and... well, a lot of other things.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I rasped, my voice thick with disgust and a very unwelcome, very sober assessment of that view. "Out. Right now, Pierce. You're interrupting my... my recovery."

His head snapped towards me, and the moment our eyes met I knew he was intoxicated too.