After I escorted Earl to the edge of his section, I turned and disappeared the best I could on the field, which was pretty easy because a stadium worker escorted me back to my seat. Instead of the normal lower-level seat next to Mrs. H., I sat in row H of Section 323 next to Li, AKA, the UCLA Bruins fan nosebleeds.

A night breeze, colder and stronger than the field-level one, blew against my cheeks as I panted from climbing up the two levels of stairs to get up here. The sea of fans below me took my breath away because, from the close-up view, I hadn't fully grasped the concept of ninety-three thousand fans until they were spread out below me.

The overhead lights hummed quietly from their close proximity, but Li stood up in her seat and waved her arm wildly at me. Our entire section was dressed in UCLA's blue and yellow, with a strong scent of beer and louder conversations and taunts dispersed in the air. Once I apologized and stepped over a few feet, I took my seat next to Li's and sat with my knees wedged in my chest.

With zero patience anymore for UCLA's WAGS, my poor roommate had requested we sit in 'normal student' seats for tonight's game. While I wanted to show support for Jake, like a coward, I slunk up here because the last thing I wanted was a confrontational conversation with his mom about mine.

Yes, I'm avoiding her too. It's completely pathetic as fuck but that's me lately.

Li cupped her hand around my closest ear and her soft voice vibrated the shell of it. "What happened with that video? We could barely see it up here but -"

I clenched my teeth together tightly and glared at the ant-sized UCLA players on their sidelines. "Ethan happened."

"Ethan?" By the time Li's head reared back, her mouth was open and her eyes stretched wide. "But... how? Why?"

"Jake slept with his sister," I mumbled bitterly.

And treated her like he treats all the others.

He still doesn't deserve the retribution attempts.

He also doesn't deserve two weeks of ghosting from me either. Not that it helped.

I was the biggest hypocrite in the state of California if I expected Jake tracked me down again, after tonight, also after I'd told him to fuck off... twice. Day by day, as more time passed, I still hadn't pulled myself out of the awful funk that had taken over my existence.

When Li told me he stopped by yesterday while I napped, I actually assumed I was still dreaming and lulled myself back to sleep.

Of all the times I actually didn't want that stubborn ass to not listen... this time I'm glad he didn't listen.

The insults hurled around us from other student fans showed exactly why Jake staying at USC was best this week.

"You suck, Harrison!"

"Fuck you, Jake! Go home and cry to your mommy!"

"My asshole has more talent when I take a shit!"

A quiet snort left me at the last one as I cupped my chin in my palms and elbowed my knees.

I understood why Jake sat in silence during our time apart, since he'd told me that he waited. Yet, my fucked-up mind still borderline obsessed over the similarities between me and his other girls. Sure, I'd outlasted all the others and he'd tenderly cared for me, but was Jake even capable of... more?

And why the fuck would he even want it with me?

Guess I'll have to ask him myself.

Beyond pissed at myself for not warning him about Sarah being Ethan's sister, I also had the sense that whatever Burke had planned, public embarrassment within the stadium wasn't the end of it.

Slowly, I turned my face towards Li's. "Did Kieran know?"

"No." Her head shook so fast, a few black strands of her short hair fell over her cheeks. Sadness darkened her eyes as they fell down to her lap. "He... texted me before the game that he didn't know. How awful for Jake, was that because of -"

"Yeah," I grumbled quietly. "That was my fault... part of that messy past shit."

I never did apologize for rejecting him in Canada. I'd ask if he's forgotten about it but now it's all out in the fucking open.

Guess that's also going on my apology and groveling list for after the game.

The surprise in Li's eyes suggested she told the truth, although I think she would've thought her boyfriend was incapable of any negativity.

A smirk curled up the corners of my lips. "Hey, did you two... you know?"

"Did we what?" Her eyebrows twitched upwards.

I coughed a few times and clasped my hands together. "Talk through your, uhh, Thanksgiving feelings, hold hands, and make googly-eyes at each other."

All while Kieran rammed his -

"If you mean we expressed how we love each other... Yep," she offered so casually that I would've thought she told me he'd brought her an iced coffee then quizzed her for their Bio final.

"Your parents though..." I turned and offered a real smile. "Are they okay with it?"

"They'll have to be," was all she replied, sat back in her seat, and crossed her arms over her chest. "We're looking into the same med schools, but we'll see how things go after the MCATs."

"Good for you Li," I muttered and took up a similar sitting position. "Good for you."

Relief flooded through her eyes and she sank lower in her seat. "Thanks for sitting up here with me."

Much to the dismay of every ass seated in our section except mine, USC slaughtered UCLA, 62-33. Jake, at least I think it was Jake from what we saw on the video screens, led his team straight down the field and scored on their opening drive. He never looked back as USC pounded UCLA's defense over and over.

Ethan might have smirked during the pregame prank but Jake had the last laugh, even though he was benched during the fourth quarter for a backup quarterback. At that point, our section was half cleared out, most of the remaining fans were drunk off their tits, one laid face-down in the cement block where his feet should've been, and Li probably mentally prepared for how she consoled Kieran once his season ended tonight.

While I smirked like an idiot every time USC scored, even clapped a few times, I felt like an absolute traitor within this section. I planned to retrieve my jersey during halftime but the hecklers only drank themselves deeper into a hole, so Li and I just walked our flattened asses around the concourse.

A few fans booed me and the guy on my other side smelled like a walking ashtray, but thankfully no one recognized me from either the coin toss or being affiliated with Jake. In return, I happily shot them middle fingers... all the way out to the parking lot, where Li shook her head and climbed back into my car.

Jake and I needed to speak but on my and Li's drive back to UCLA, Kieran texted Li that USC's locker room stayed locked for more than the hour after the game ended that he'd been at the stadium. So, once Li and I returned to our dorm room, I stepped into a much-needed shower while she went on our weekly mail-run.

Countless shower-skipped days of grime washed off my body and I scrubbed it hard with a washcloth, until my skin tingled warm and flushed pink. I triple-washed my hair, blow dried, and curled it, but nothing looked right. With a sigh, I finally gave up and tied it up high in a ponytail.

My makeup took me a while, with just a pink balm on my lips, smokey eye, and some cheek contouring, and stepped into a cream-colored sweater and black leggings. I'd just wedged my feet into my favorite pair of brown leather boots by the time Li returned.

"What a game, well, for your boyfriend." She exhaled sharply as came in with an armful of envelopes tucked in her left elbow. Her right hand extended without a look up from her mail pile. "Here's yours."

"My - oh..." My hand froze mid-air at the large, yellow folder she extended to me.

The familiar handwriting curled my fingers back and sank my heart into my stomach. Trembles shook my hands from the weight in that letter. Physically, it was heavy enough for excess postage charges but the emotional weight tore into me and I didn't want to open it in front of Li.

The memory of her sliding that envelope across the Kerckhoff table at me flashed through my mind. It twisted the more I studied my handwritten name and address.

That bitch. I wouldn't take it in person so she mailed it.

"Just put it... in my backpack," I mumbled at Li and pointed to my bag on the floor by my desk. "I'll read it later."

"Is it okay to put in the front part?" She knelt down and pointed to the front zipped up compartment. "Might get squished a little."

"Yeah." I turned back to the mirror and dabbed on some more lip balm. "Squish away."

Right when my lips smacked, the soft zipper of my bag sounded. While much quieter than the hissed zipper, Li's quiet gasp drew my eyes downward.

"Harper?" Li blinked up at me. "You already have one stuffed in here. This isn't like some weird stalker or revenge blackmail, is it?"

"No. I just... shouldn't..." I muttered, leaned over, and grabbed my bag in one hand and the envelope in the other.

As Li stood up and sat down at her desk, my hand patted over the excessive lump on the front of my bag, which drew my eyebrows together.

The fuck is this? How long have I been carrying this around?

Sure enough, an identical folder had been tucked into my backpack. With a quiet grunt, I tossed both identical envelopes onto my desk with a soft plop. My fingers recoiled when I turned them side-by-side and recognized both were similar to the one that my womb donor had tried to give me at Kerckhoff coffee house.

No, the same identical one.

But I didn't take it? Did... Jake?

Guilt struck into me with what I assumed were the envelopes' contents and I inspected them. The one from my bag was open on one end and the edges wrinkled. The mailed one was sealed shut, which I grabbed and tore it open.

A pile of photographs slid over my desk surface, each with a notecard clipped on it. A quick glance showed the same handwriting on the envelope was scribbled over each card. My knees wobbled so I sank down onto my uncomfortable desk chair with a hard plop.

The longer my eyes studied the pictures, the more I curled inward. My upper back rounded and shoulders rolled forwards, cupped my elbows in my hands, and clenched my stomach hard.

Each photo showed the same blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy. He aged with every picture, from a bald baby with saucer-wide eyes laying stomach-down on a blanket to an older boy who struck a soccer game pose. His eyes beamed like his heart radiated through them and his crooked, snaggletooth smile was addictive.

Thankfully, Vanessa's presence was limited to only the scrawled name Wyatt, with his age and a date on the back of each photo. Twenty photos were provided in all, two from each year. My hands shook under the weight of the pile in my hand as I spread them in two rows across the flat surface of my desk. Because there were so many, the last two I tucked under the ones next to it.

Trembles shook my fingers when I cupped them around my equally trembling mouth, which felt like I'd choked on cotton balls. The same nausea rolled through my stomach as it clenched like I'd been punched. The very last picture, with the same piercing eyes but his blonde hair missing, and the background -

I... I can't. This is too much.

My hands slammed against my desk and shoved my chair back with a quiet screech. As I moved, my elbow bumped the second envelope and a pile of handwritten letters spilled out. Those I definitely recognized and stuffed them back into the envelope.

The last letter, first on the pile that had spilled the farthest away, haunted me with its simplicity when I held it in my hand. With the exception of the hairs that raised on the back of my neck and goosebumps that pricked my forearms, only my eyes moved.

Dear Harper,

I am sorry that our communication has come to this. I hope you receive this letter with an open enough mind to accept the wishes of an innocent boy's pure and innocent heart.

Vanessa

At least she got the hint that she's lost her Mom title privilege.

A thick, uncomfortable silence stifled the airspace around me. I stood up so quickly that the top of my head slammed into my lofted bed. Pain radiated upon the smacked contact and I ducked back down with a flinch.

With a slight lean over, I reshuffled the stack until the very first letter, the supposedly explanation one, faced me on the top.

Dear Harper,

I've never been so ashamed, or felt so guilty for what I've done to you. Leaving you will be my life's regret, a decision I won't ever dare to ask forgiveness from you for because I'll never deserve it.

No argument here.

But I write this so that you'll have some understanding. I have reasons to believe your father was unfaithful, breaking the trust in our marriage. While my reactions that followed are inexcusable, they resulted in me becoming pregnant. It's still an adjustment for me but you'll have a little brother or sister by the next letter I send you. I hope it's okay to write you on your birthday -

The subsequent words blurred as the letters ran together and I dropped the letter onto my desk. Every pair of sky-blue eyes, the same color as mine, haunted me from within Wyatt's spread out pictures.

Completely different from the rest, the last picture was tucked behind the one on top of it. Once I pulled it out, the sight I took in drew a gasp from my mouth. Wyatt smiled with the same bright smile and eyes but dressed in a hospital gown and reclined in bed. His blonde hair was completely gone.

With trembling fingers, I turned over the photo and absorbed the three words that explained his condition shown in the photo.

Acute lymphoblastic leukemia.

Hot tears blurred all of his images, then spilled over my cheeks. With a raspy breath, I wiped them away but only more flowed freely. While I had no idea if Li was even still here, I quietly mumbled, "I'm going for a walk."

Before I left, like the emotions that swelled up inside me, I grabbed the photos, shoved them into my bottom desk drawer, and slammed it shut. My lips pressed together tightly and I squeezed my eyes shut until the tears receded.

Under their own direction, my feet moved in a circular path as I debated a change of plans for tonight. The more I paced that suffocatingly small room, the more weight I felt under those fucking posters, the angrier I got.

He put the pictures in my bag. Or she did while I left it behind and dumbass didn't notice.

Or did he know and he didn't fucking tell me!?

"Harper?" Li's soft voice filled with curiosity, which snapped my attention to her presence. "Are you -"

"Just need some air," I called out before I grabbed my purse and slammed the door behind me.

And most likely tear a particular quarterback's balls off.

With my perfect ass-hauling speed, I drove over to Jake's house. The sight of his jersey still in my back seat and I paused for a few breaths... okay, so many breaths that I fogged up the inside of the windows, which included my rearview mirror while I touched up my eye makeup.

He deserves a chance to explain.

Let's be honest, he's not smart enough to try to pull a manipulation move over me... right?

My fingers curled around my jersey, which I folded over my arm and used like a shield as I weaved through the sweaty, most unrecognizable bodies. Music throbbed so loudly in my ears that I couldn't hear my own thoughts and made my way upstairs.

There wasn't enough alcohol in the whole damn house for what I saw at the top of the steps. Jake's bedroom door opened and revealed two skanks in just their underwear. From where I stood on the steps, I practically smelled the desperation that leaked out of their vaginas.

I froze for one brief moment and questioned my own internal bullshit meter, which fired off on its highest settings.

He didn't cheat... did he?

My overly sensitive heart felt stabbed at the sight, right before it froze over and burst into tiny shards within my chest just at the suggestion. A tremble violently quaked my lower lip and the hallway walls squeezed in on me.

One look at the guilt in Jake's eyes was all I needed before I croaked out some bullshit response and tore down the stairs, but my common sense gripped me tighter than my hands on the railing. Pathetically, my ass sunk right down onto the fifth stair down, out of view but close enough that I fucking waited for...

I had no idea what the fuck I waited for but my instincts told me to wait and I sure as fuck trusted my instincts.

If I waited for Jake, he sure didn't follow me. Instead, he retreated like a fucking coward into his room and closed the door. A gasp choked up my throat and I drew in a ragged breath because that hurt more than his initial look of guilt.

Instead of Jake, the last two people I wanted any interaction with approached me from behind.

With a sigh, I slumped sideways on the steps. I ignored the throbbed music in my ass from the floors below and, also on instinct, pulled out my phone. The screen shook violently in my hands, but I hit the record button for the conversation that I hoped followed, dropped the phone on the steps next to where I sat, and closed my eyes.

The first girl, friendzoned-Emily, offered zero disappointment for me, "Fuck, that didn't work."

"Em, this plan was shit. Jake literally went limp-dick and tossed us out," the second one whined. "I can't use this on my account."

Limp dick? And what the fuck are they using Jake for?

My lips rolled inward and tightly pressed together because that rejection burned any sex-crazed girl's ego and confidence.

Can't fake a non-stiffy, even with the best of penis pumps.

The thought sadly dulled over some of the pain that still throbbed through me.

"Doesn't matter, we just needed a distraction. Plus, she saw us and that's enough," Emily assured her. Right before their feet walked into the bathroom, their voices muffled. With an extended arm, I shut off my phone's recording when the door clicked shut.

Well, that was... beyond suspicious.

My eyes closed and my right shoulder sagged against the wall. Where my arm hung limp between my legs, I gripped my phone tightly in my palm.

An undetermined amount of time passed as I sat there and waited for... I had no idea what. Maybe I fell under false hopes that Jake chased after me. 

He wouldn't have to go far, fuck I'm right here.

His earlier words, which I'd thought he'd offered as a comfort, haunted me now.

I won't chase you firecracker. But I'll wait for you.

Yeah, fuck that shit.

Right when I palmed my thighs and stood up so Jake got a verbal lashing piece of my mind, the bathroom door opened. Emily and skank-two were now clothed, although their skin-tight dresses offered little of what I hadn't seen earlier.

"You." Emily nearly tripped on her own feet at the top of the steps. "You-you're still here?"

"I am." Calmly and coolly, my shoulders drew down as I slowly climbed up the steps, one at a time. With her short height, she shrank down from a height where she looked down on me to an even eye-to-eye, then slightly lower by the time I stood one step lower than her.

That's right, shrink down bitch.

Because I'm petty as fuck like that.

Her throat twitched like she clenched it tighter and her thin lips pulled towards her right cheek. "Don't act like you're different, Harper."

"I am different." I stared her down. Even though my heart pounded wildly in my chest and heat rushed over my skin, I relaxed my throat and pushed out in a cool, dismissive tone, "Because whatever shit games you play won't work, not on Jake and not on me. Unless you aim to make yourself look pathetically desperate for dick, Jake will never see you like you want him to."

Her lips parted but fuck, it was my turn to talk.

"You might be a one-night mistake but I've fucked him more than once. I've fucked him so many, many times, for months, fuck probably years, so hard and so fucking raw, that one, two" - my eyes flicked over to her friend, who ignored us and scrolled over a social media account screen. "Three, ten, or a hundred slutty bitches like you who only want his dick won't ever measure up to me."

My head tipped back and a sharp bark rang out from between my lips. "You fucked up, Emily. You think I'm only concerned about Jake's dick."

Resolve straightened my spine and drew my chest up. With a slight lift up of my chin, I glared down my nose at her. "Even though his dick is more than the hype that you probably finger yourself to, he's more than that. He's stubborn, loyal to his family, holds more passion in his pinkie toe about football than I'll ever care about anything, ever, and he's taken all of the shit problems in his life and came out a better, stronger person."

Sharpened like a brand-new knife, my voice cut through the air between us. "It takes a strong person to get beaten down by your demons, face the parts of yourself you're ashamed of, and even stronger to overcome them. And the fact that you scheming, life-sucking parasites have no fucking clue what I'm really talking about is all the proof that I'll ever need in terms of where you and I stand when it comes to Jake Fucking Harrison."

I leaned back and shook my head slightly, more at myself than this pathetic bitch. "Is he perfect? Fuck no, but he's more than either of you or any other shameless bitch deserve."

At that moment, the gravity of my and Jake's situation hit me, hard like a drop kick into my ovaries. With a slight lean forwards, I murmured the painful truth into Emily's right ear.

"I don't have just Jake's dick, which is fucking mind-blowing when he slams it into my wet, needy pussy orgasm after orgasm, but I have his eyes' attention in a crowded room, his mind's obsession when I'm not here, and fuck, even that traitorous organ in the center of his chest beats for me. And nothing you can do will ever change that."

My heart thudded painfully in my chest but I stared her straight in the eyes. "There isn't a single fucking thing you can do, not even if you sleep with him, because he's mine. Sure, plenty have had his dick but in mind, soul, and heart, Jake Harrison is mine."

Her lips parted, either in protest or shock I didn't know but couldn't have cared less. With my right hand's fingertips, I pushed up her jaw until her mouth closed, then gently patted her cheek. "You're nothing but a radar blip but part of me feels sorry for your pathetic ass, so here's some advice..."

A deep breath cooled my lungs, expanded my chest, and relaxed the nerves that fired up inside and sizzled my skin with goosebumps.

"Shop at Goodwill for a wardrobe upgrade, wash and moisturize your limp, dead hair, wipe off your overly done clown makeup, learn Victoria's Secret when it comes to classier underwear options, and take a long, hard look at your ugly ass decisions in a mirror with low lighting." With a slight turn on my heels, my lip curled up at one corner. "While you're at it, dig deep into that rejected vagina and find some self-worth."

With one last sneer over my shoulder, I tossed back, "And stop giving us high sex-drive fuckgirls a desperate-for-dick reputation while you're at it."

Without waiting for a response, my feet stomped down the stairs. Jake's retreated absence behind his door fluttered my eyes closed for a few moments and I paused on the second floor stairs' landing. Among the sweaty bodies, curious eyes, and ear-deafening music throbs, I slipped my phone into my pocket and shut off the second recording.

A few heads turned towards me, especially a few of Jake's teammates who passed me on the steps. Evan shot me a curious look but the rest trampled upstairs like a buffalo stampede, so I turned and resumed my descent. My own heartbeat throbbed louder in my ears than the house music as I marched downstairs as inconspicuous as possible through the body-crammed party.

The cool, outside air rushed through my lungs not like a welcome relief but choked off my air supply. The view of the dark night and the sidewalk, houses, and cars illuminated with street lights blurred under the tears that welled up under my half-closed eyes, and I rasped out hot, ragged, uneven breaths.

My bitchy, soapbox spewed words aside, internally my emotions tore through me worse than when my bitch of a mother stomped herself into my life. At a moment where I should have felt proud and self-empowered, I only felt... utterly pathetic. Every ounce of fight in me had been drained out and while telling off Emily felt self-satisfying as fuck, I worried my efforts had been expelled all for nothing.

He still didn't come after me, even after I fought for him.

I can't do this anymore. Even the strongest girls can break.

My whole car shook with how loudly I slammed the door shut behind me. Among the heavy silence that choked the interior walls in on me, a sob bubbled up my throat. I held it back but, with a raspy breath, I sank down behind the wheel. In a horribly cliché position, my knees drew up to my chest. Congestion tickled and flooded the inside of my nose, my eyes stung, and my back hitched as I hugged my knees to my chest.

Ugly, hoarse sobs clawed their way out of my throat, and echoed through my car space like feral barks. My shoulders shook as more escaped and ravaged my body with tremors. In between each one, I choked out dry coughs of breaths.

We aren't just one night stands. We're not just fuck-buddies.

At least not in my mind. I'm fucking his just as much as he's mine, probably more at this point.

I cried since now... fuck, I cared. I hated that I cared, but I did and couldn't block those feelings anymore.

My feelings were tied to that asshole, just like before. Also just like before, my heart felt broken.

All logical signs, especially Jake's inaction tonight, pointed towards I'd just expelled a wasted, monologued effort of female fuckgirl self-empowerment.

Fuck, he didn't even... move. Not a single word, or step towards me.

Jake's inaction hurt deeper than any possible action could have. Despite my biting words, him doing nothing meant he felt nothing... or not enough that warranted a response, any fucking response from him other than a guilty look and door slammed in my face.

Despite that, I still fucking cared.

Feelings didn't care about logic, disillusionment, or even reality. They just... felt with unconditional attachment. No matter how shitty Jake treated me, and two girls kicked out of his room with zero protest, reassurance, or reaction, not even a single justification from the guy who'd marched onto UCLA's campus just to unblock my phone number, felt pretty damn close to shitty treatment category... I still cared.

Fuck, I even felt sorry for him, especially once I'd knew he'd rejected the girls. No one deserved their private bedroom space violated or being set up with an unwanted solicitation. Even while I bitched out schemers one and two, my heart urged me to go into his room, where I comforted him, assured him that I believed he hadn't been unfaithful, then fucked him so hard that he knew who owned his dick too.

I don't even have the strength to get out of my car.

Even now, I wanted nothing more than Jake's fat ass rushed out of his house and assured me that I was the only one he cared about. I wanted my words out of his mouth, said in his voice, full of his emotions, and pushed assurance into my ears. My feet twitched that I ran in there and took charge of the emotional confession but my legs sagged heavily and I dropped my knees.

But still... He did nothing for me, except shut the door. If I needed any more obvious brush off...

That's it, folks.

My forehead slammed into the top edge of my steering wheel, where I exhaled loudly.

Just like when I was fourteen, tear-stained and heart-broken by Jake Harrison, again, I was weak. I sobbed loud, raspy, violent, ugly sounds that I barely recognized.

No, I recognized this version of me because I'd been like this for too fucking long, just not about Jake. I was vulnerable, exposed my open emotional wounds, and only knew of one way to sew them shut.

It's true, the only way to get over someone is to get over someone else.

I need to fuck someone else. I should fuck someone else.

The thoughts spread a bitter taste over my dry tongue. Problem was, I still had absolutely no interest, especially in anyone else. If I looked down between my legs, I wouldn't have been surprised if tiny tumbleweeds rolled out.

The fuck am I supposed to do now!?