Page 4 of The Heart Breaker

Two minutes ago, I walked through the door of his off-campus house with a stupid smile on my face. I stepped through the crowd until I found Kian—one of his teammates—and asked where Chase was, and he told me he was upstairs. But the way he said it should have tipped me off. He could barely look at me, hesitating for a few seconds before finally letting the words out.

I should’ve known something was up. Should’ve listened to the tight knot in my chest, the way my gut twisted, and walked away.

But I went anyway. I climbed the stairs and walked straight into the moment my whole life split in half.

I don’t know how long I stand there, just taking it in. The sheets tangled around their legs, the other girl scrambling for her shirt.

“I—I didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” she blurts, her voice shaking as her eyes flick between me and Chase.

I don’t answer. I can’t even move. My ears are ringing and my body feels like it belongs to someone else. I must look like a ghost. I don’t even turn my head as she scurries past me and slips out the door. I’m still standing there, clutching the bottle like an idiot while heat crawls up my neck and my chest feels tight enough to crack.

Chase lets out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “What are you even doing here?”

A laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it. “Are you serious?”

“You should’ve called,” he says, throwing his hands up. “Or texted. I didn’t know you were coming.”

My hand tightens around the bottle. “Why? So you could hide the fact you’re screwing someone else?” My chest feels tight, like I can’t get a full breath. “It’s our three-year anniversary, asshole. I came to surprise you.”

I realize, as the humiliation increases tenfold, that he completely forgot about our anniversary, given the shocked expression on his face.

I let out a bitter laugh, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. “What a great anniversary gift, Chase. Walking in on you fucking someone else in your own bed. Really outdid yourself this year.”

His jaw goes tight, eyes flicking to the door, worried someone might overhear. “Don’t make a scene,” he snaps.

“How long?” My voice shakes and I hate that it does. He meets my eyes, but doesn’t answer. I tighten my grip on the bottle, heat prickling at the back of my neck. “How long have you been sleeping with other girls while I was stupid enough to trust you?”

His jaw clenches and his gaze drops away. He doesn’t even have the guts to look at me.

“One year?” I bite out, my voice rising. He says nothing. “Two?” The numbers come out through clenched teeth. “Three?”

He shrugs. That’s all I get—a shrug.

When he finally speaks, he doesn’t even look ashamed. “You’re not here. You’re over a thousand miles away. What do you expect me to do?”

Nausea climbs up my throat, burning through the anger for a second. “I don’t know, Chase. Maybe keep your dick in your pants for five minutes. Or at least have the decency to end things before you screw the next girl.”

“Dude… that’s fucked up.”

I turn at the voice behind me, my heart pounding when I realize we’re not alone. A crowd has gathered in the doorway, his teammates and a bunch of strangers, people who don’t know me but will remember me as the girl who got cheated on.

Heat floods my face, filling every inch of me until my hands start to shake. I want to scream, to break something, to wipe the pity off their faces, but all I do is stand there with my chest heaving, trying hard not to fall apart.

My grip tightens around the bottle of whiskey I hunted down at three different stores and I look back at Chase, at the bored, empty look on his face, and something in me finally snaps.

I don’t even think before I slam the bottle against the edge of his desk. Glass shatters across the floor and people behind me gasp at the sound.

I barely register them. All I see is Chase. All I can think about is him making a fool out of me by sleeping with another girl on our anniversary.

His eyes widen as the neck of the bottle splinters in my hand, whiskey sloshing over my knuckles and onto the floor.

I hurl what’s left of it at his chest. The smell hits instantly as the whiskey splashes across his shirt, his chest, his lap. He flinches, jerking back on the bed, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Fuck you,” I spit, tossing the empty bottle to the floor.

I turn on my heel and push through the doorway, brushing past the open-mouthed crowd. I walk past the girl who was in Chase’s bed, still fumbling with her jeans.