OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND
Adam's POV
The past few weeks had been an absolute disaster.
My dad had been riding my back the whole break, drilling into my head that this was my last year before the NFL draft, that I had to keep my head down, stay in top shape, and let nothing— nothing whatsoever— distract me from my fate. As if I didn't know that already.
Then things only got worse after the breakup.
Mandy and I had been together for two years, and sure, things hadn't been perfect, but I never expected her to cheat on me. And not with just anyone— she had to go and do it with one of my own freaking teammates. The betrayal still stung, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much it messed me up.
So I did what I always did— I threw myself into football.
Football was my life. I lived it, breathed it, and sacrificed everything for it. It was the one thing that made sense, the one thing that I could control. So when the semester was starting, I had one thing on my mind: to go all in.
But there was a problem. My dorm.
The address was way too near Mandy's off-campus apartment, and there wasn't a chance in hell that I wanted to take the risk of running into her on a daily basis. Best wager? A dorm near the field, where I could focus, train, and remember nothing else.
I opened the door to the new room that night, duffel bag over my shoulder, expecting an empty space. What I got instead was him.
Emerson Beckett.
The dim light cast shadows on his frame, highlighting the angular lines of his jaw and cheekbones. His hair was black with green streaks running through it, and his attire clung to him like a second skin. I could make out a sleeve of tattoos curling up his forearm peeking out beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Of course.
I didn't like him. The troubled boy with the reputation. The one who swaggered around like he didn't care about anything but still always seemed to find himself in fights or bothering someone. I had seen him around, always with the signature frown on his face, always with the expression of 'I have better things to do than be here', the entitled prick. And now I was going to be rooming with him?
Mrs. Meyer had barely closed the door behind me before I snorted again, tracing a hand down my face. "This is terrific, just fucking terrific."
Emerson didn't answer. He was already striding across the room, assuredly dumping his wet bag on the bed. Because he lived here, and now I did too. We lived here. Goddamn it.
I couldn’t do this. I clenched my teeth, the weight of the last thirty days closing in on me once more. The debacle with my dad, then Mandy, and now this. Couldn’t I catch a goddamn break?
I'd spent the entire break attempting to escape my problems— drinking, parties, anything to keep my mind off the breakup and my dad being on my case. Football was supposed to be my sanctuary, my anchor, but even that had seemed strange in recent weeks. Now, instead of having my head back in the game, I got to share a room with Emerson Blackwood.
"Listen, man," I started, attempting to sound calm. "I just want to make one thing absolutely clear— I mind my own business, and you do the same. Other than that, I don't care what the fuck else you do."
He didn't glance in my direction, just reached into his bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Noted."
I raised my eyebrow as he popped the stick into his mouth. "You're not suppose to smoke here."
He froze in mid-movement, lighter between his fingers, and turned his head toward me slowly, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You gonna rat on me, golden boy?"
My fingers curled at my side. I'd heard about Emerson. Hell, everyone had. The man was a walking middle finger to the establishment—tattoos, bad attitude, and a rep that made even the cockiest of guys think twice before they did something to piss him off. He was a problem wherever he went and now I had to live with the guy.
I released a hard breath. "Just don't be a jerk."
He grinned harder, tossing the cigarette and lighter on the nightstand, reclining on his bed. "No promises."
I stroked my hand through my hair, tension sinking into the muscles of my shoulders. This was hell. I needed peaceful, stable. A place to focus on football and football only. But instead I got him. I could bet my last dime that he was going to make this hard.
Great. Fucking great.
"Whatever." I opened my duffel bag and started to unpack, shoving my clothes into the dresser. The sooner I could pretend like he wasn’t here, the better.
There was silence between us. I wasn't sure how long it lasted before he spoke, rolling over to face me. "So, what's the real reason you're here?"
I scowled at him. "What?"
He waved his hand vaguely across the room. "You're Adam Pierce. Football great. Daddy's boy. You get to have any dorm on campus, so why the devil did you end up with me? You being punished or something?"
"None of your damn business."
He had a low chuckle. "Struck a nerve, I take it?"
I gritted my teeth, determined to stuff my cleats into the closet. I wasn't going to fight him about my dad. About Mandy. About anything. He knew nothing and it would stay that way. I had plans for the semester, and speaking to him wasn’t part of them. I arranged my clothes into the wardrobe near me as I thought about the upcoming games.
But he had struck a nerve and I found myself speaking. “Why are your checks bouncing back? Used your tuition to roll a joint, junkie?”
He said nothing only stared at me, his eyes hard. He stood, took a towel out of his own wardrobe, threw it over his shoulder and stalked to the bathroom.
He didn't say another word after he finished his bath, but I could feel his eyes still on me as I finished unpacking and made my way to the bathroom. It gave me an odd feeling
of satisfaction.
He wasn't the only one that could hit a nerve.