Chapter 2 COWARD'S EXIT
MICAH’S POV
I don’t remember deciding to leave the suit.
All I remember is one second I'm sitting on the couch with my face burning and heart beating like it wants out.The next, I'm on my feet hightailing it out of there with only my phone and wallet.
I don’t even stop to grab my bag.
The door shuts behind me with a soft click that sounds way too loud but I don’t look back and I don’t slow down either.
I walk fast, a bit too fast down the hallway like I know exactly where I’m going but it all doesn't matter as long as I can put distance between myself and Dante.
My heart just won’t stop racing.
Every few steps my brain tries to replay what I saw and I shove the thought away so hard it almost makes me trip.
I don’t need the image or the memory but my mind is determined to burn it all into my brain.
I ignore and don't think about the fact that Dante King knows I saw him at his most private moment.
I press the elevator button harder than necessary and bounce on the balls of my feet while I wait for it to reach my level.
And when the doors finally open, I step inside and face the mirrored wall.
Wow, I look wrecked.
My hood is half-off and my curls are a mess.
My eyes look like I've witnessed a crime and I'm on the run.
I drag my hand through my hair t o tame it and let out a shaky breath.
It's simple, get food, sit down and act normal.
Don't think about the fact that you just saw your new roommate jerking off.
The dining hall is on the lower floor of the same building and that’s the only reason I chose it.
I lie to myself that the chances of running into Dante again this soon are low since he’s probably… busy.
Or showering I don't know.
The thought doesn’t make me feel any better.
The elevator opens into the dining hall and the smell of actual good food hits me immediately.
Not cafeteria slop but actual real food.
I pull my hood back up and keep my head down as I grab a tray.
The place is busy but not packed.
Athletes everywhere, most of them if not all of them are bigger than me.
I move along the counter, barely registering what I’m picking.
Protein, carbs and something green I don't recognize so I can pretend I’m responsible.
That’s when I hear a familiar voice.
“Oh come on, Ali don’t be like that.”
I freeze.
I don’t need to turn around to know who that is.
Max Rivera’s voice carries–smooth and cocky like he’s always performing for everyone.
He’s standing near the drink station, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the space.
Across him looking bored is a girl who looks like she walked straight out of a glossy magazine.
She has long blonde hair, and clothes that probably cost more than my entire suitcase.
She’s holding her phone in one hand, clearly unimpressed.
“I said no,” she replies flatly. “You’re not charming Max, you're just annoying and if he's not here with you guys then I'm leaving.”
Max chuckles, undeterred. “You don’t mean that.”
Something in me snaps.
Maybe it’s leftover adrenaline or the disaster that is today but for the first time, I choose violence.
Before I can stop myself, I step forward.
“She said no,” I say. “That usually means stop.”
Both of them turn to look at me.
Max’s eyebrows lift slowly. Recognition flickers and then amusement. “You again transfer?.”
The girl looks me over with her expression sharpening. “Who asked you?”
“No one,” I admit, confused. “But you looked uncomfortable.”
She scoffs. “Trust me, you're making me uncomfortable now.”
Max laughs outright.
I feel heat crawl up my neck, but I stand my ground. “Dude, just leave her alone.”
She lets out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my God. You’re both exhausting and this is just stupid what are we five?”
She steps past me without another glance, her heels clicking against the floor as she walks away bored.
Max watches her go with a whistle then turns back to me with a grin. “Well. That went great, Prince Charming.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” I mutter.
He leans closer, lowering his voice this time.“Careful, Brooks. You keep trying to play savior but someone might actually test how tough you are.”
I meet his gaze, forcing myself not to back down. “Noted.”
He straightens, checks his watch. “ill see you in practice then. Try not to get yourself killed before you meet me on the court.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
I stand there for a second longer than necessary before I finally move away and find an empty corner table.
I dropped into the chair and my appetite suddenly dulled but my body was still demanding fuel.
As I pick at my food I notice a couple of the servers whispering behind the counter. One of them, with a tag that read Marsha keeps looking my way.
Eventually, she approaches with a small smile. “Rough first day I guess?”
I huff softly. “Is it that obvious?”
She nods sympathetically. “Yeah considering you stepped in for Alison.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “Who?”
She blinks. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head slowly.
Marsha lowers her voice. “That was Dante’s girlfriend.”
The words hit harder than they should.
“Oh,” I say dumbly.
“Don’t worry,” she adds gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She… she's just a special person.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “That’s one word for it.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile before heading back to the counter.
I stare down at my tray with my head spinning.
Dante King has a girlfriend.
The Dante King who was very much alone pleasuring himself earlier has a girlfriend.
Dante King who now shares a suite with me of all people.
The little appetite I have disappears completely.
I poke at my food, with my thoughts spiralling despite my best efforts.
Maybe they’re in a fight. I remember Alison was in a prissy mood.
Or maybe they broke up.
I rub at my temples.
This was not how this was supposed to go.
I was supposed to transfer, keep my head down, play basketball and stay invisible.
No drama, no complications and early retirement.
Instead, I’ve managed to piss off the vice-captain, I've embarrassed myself in front of the team captain and I've inserted myself into whatever weird relationship is going on between Dante and Alison.
And it’s only my first night on campus.
I push my tray away and lean back in my chair staring up at the ceiling.
I don’t know what I walked into.
Is it too late to transfer?