His eyes widen.

“And his parents? The bracelet? Harper? The pin? You think I can accept that kind of treatment from someone? I have pride, River.”

He groans. “If you love people, you work it out! I’m the bad guy who’s messing around with you! I’m the friend moving in on his girl!” He heaves out a breath then scrubs his face. “Ana. God. Ana, I have to tell you something.”

He called me Ana! Again.

“What?” I snap.

He covers his face for a moment, drops his hands. “I told him to end it with you on Friday before the party. When he came downstairs and started spewing all this shit about your past, something came over me, and… I told him to let you go. I told him to break it off, said Harper was meant to be his and he just needed space to try. I told him…” He takes a breath. “…that you’d never make him happy.”

Shock washes over me. I blink rapidly.

Silence builds as he stares at me, willing me to reply. My mouth opens. I don’t know what to say. River influenced Donovan.

I shake my head, trying to wrap my head around it.

“I’m sorry he… I didn’t think he’d do it the way he did. I didn’t even know if he would. I never dreamed it would go down like that. I’m sorry.”

I struggle to figure out how I feel about this. Am I angry? Surprised for sure. It means…it means River has high stakes in us. “Did you tell him I was a Lolita type?”

“Never, but I encouraged him to dump you. I said he was dragging out the inevitable.”

“Wow.” My mind races, trying to piece it together. “Did you somehow know about Harvard and tell Harper I didn’t get in?”

“I would never hurt you like that. I know how it is, to feel less than.” A lost look appears on his face. “He’s going to give up Harvard for you, he will, I can feel it coming.” He pauses. “I shouldn’t have brought you up here, but you and Kian, just the idea, my jealousy is out of control…fuck, fuck, fuck, I messed up. This ends here—”

“That was not the end of something.” I slip my arms into his hoodie. Not giving that up. No way, no how. It’s mine.

“The things you say… I can’t…” He stops, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “You’re too much, too soon for me. Can’t you see that what I did was wrong? Donovan listens to me.”

A harsh laugh comes from me. “Honestly? You gave him good advice. Did you have an ulterior motive? Yes,” I say.

He closes his eyes briefly, then spears me with a tormented look. “The frat is important. I’m the president. There’s a code. I can’t—”

My hands fist. I’m laying everything out, bare for him to see, and he still doesn’t get it. “I’ve always wanted you, River. You wanted me too, even though you gave me up to him—”

“He picked you, he fucking picked you, he saw you first, he wanted you, and you may think that’s stupid, but he was lonely, and I wasn’t. Then. I didn’t realize in that moment how much you’d come to mean…” He heaves out a long breath, regret lacing his words. “I helped him get you. And you fell in love with him.”

I cross my arms. He keeps bringing that up.

“Yes, it’s true,” is dragged from him. “I’ve seen you two together. I’ve seen how you look at him, how he looks at you.”

“I did. You’re right. There are all kinds of love, River. It’s different for every person. I couldn’t have spent a year with him if I didn’t. What was I supposed to do? You orchestrated our relationship!”

“I don’t know what do anymore! I fucked up! I can’t think!”

All’s fair in love and war plays in my head, but I can’t say that, can’t go there. This is so new, and he’s deeply torn, what if I’m pushing him too much, putting more pressure on him…

You’re too soon for me.

He backs away toward the door.

“River. Wait.”

A sound comes from his throat, part frustration, part longing. “I’m always waiting.” He shuts his eyes. “He’s my friend and a brother, Ana. I can’t be your revenge.”

Then he’s gone before I can tell him that this, this was never about revenge…

Oh no. It’s something else entirely.

22

The next day the sky is dreary as I run around the track outside the training center. The harsh, cold air cleans my lungs and makes me feel alive. I need it.

Benji is a few laps behind me today, and I glance back at him. During the offseason, Coach Taylor lets us bring close friends to work out as long as they don’t do anything stupid. He’s been my workout partner for two years now. He’s not a football player, but he’s a competitive shit.

“I thought we were taking it easy,” he pants as I pass him for another lap.

“Need my head cleared,” I call out.

“A lot on your mind, yeah?” he yells from behind me. “Wanna cry on your little bro’s shoulder?”

“Suck it,” I shout as my thoughts circle back to last night.

Jesus, what was I thinking? The way she felt in my arms. The scent of her skin. The electricity between us. The taste of her on my lips. My hands clench.

I’ve been the guy who lost a girl to another brother. Yeah, this situation is different—they’re broken up—but the loyal part of me feels like I’m doing something wrong.

That guilt grew this afternoon at the Kappa house when I stopped by to check in and see some faces.

Last night, that sorority girl called Donovan and told him about us at the library. I mean, I knew it was coming. Eventually someone was going to tell him. I was just hoping I could get to winter break first.

This afternoon, he looked like shit, his face haggard, dark smudges under his eyes as he cornered me in the kitchen. What is going on, why were you studying with her, you didn’t mention it, you don’t even like Ana, did you talk to her about me? Did you? Come on, River, tell me you put in a good word…

His pain lashed at me.

I stood there stoic. I’m sure I said something, but I can barely recall my responses. Guilt coursed through me.

Everything is my fault. I started their relationship; I helped end it.

I’ve been a shit brother to him.

I went to her apartment the night of her birthday and I’ve been telling myself it was for the class, to return her book, but it wasn’t, it wasn’t. I walked into her place with need in my heart. I knew he’d forgotten her birthday and was at the library. I knew she’d be hurt by it, and maybe, just maybe it was a way in. Hell, I’ve known where she lives for months. I’ve driven by her place a hundred times. I watched her dance on her birthday with images of her riding my cock playing in my mind.

It gets worse.

I hang out at the bar where she works. On purpose. She walks by and my eyes follow. She laughs and I commit it to memory. She frowns and I want to know what the hell is wrong.

I ride the elevator with her, and my hands fight to hold her.

I’ve touched her, before they were over, little brushes before class that made her gasp. That was wrong. Fucking wrong.