League of Her Own (Carmichael Series #2)✔️

Frat Attack

"Sometimes not everything is about you, Troy!" She growled out as tears began to form in her eyes. I panicked, not wanting to be the cause of them. Placing my hands on her thighs, I rubbed up and down soothingly. She rested her face in the palms of her hands, weeping silently.

"You d-don't understand." She hiccupped out.

"What? What don't I understand? Tell me, baby. I'll help!" I pleaded, needing to know what was causing her to be this upset.

"No! I – you - we just...please just go." She whispered brokenly, still sobbing quietly into her hands.

"I'm not leaving until I know you're okay." I spoke sternly, standing my ground.

"I'll be okay when you leave!" She said, raising her voice at me. I stumbled back, hurt from her words. I wasn't sure how much more rejection from her I could take.

I had to laugh at myself. What a joke that was. I was never giving up on this girl. Though, I was going to need to give her some space to figure out whatever it is that was going on. That much was clear.

"You may not want me here, but that doesn't change the fact that if you need me, I will be." I said, not once breaking my intense gaze. Her lips pursed and it looked like she was trying to formulate a sentence, but I was sure that she was about to say was something I wasn't going to want to hear. With that thought in mind, I snatched my backpack off the ground and turned on my heels, making a swift exit from the building.

**

Aurora's POV

"Dammit, Rora, fucking talk to me!" He yelled, clearly tired of the cold shoulder I'd been giving him. I could feel the stares of the random people lingering behind me burning into my back. This. This is exactly what I'm trying to avoid I thought to myself.

"Nothing is wrong. There's nothing to talk about." I said with a pointed glare. Did I feel guilty for how horribly I was being towards him? Yes. Was this attitude necessary for him to keep the fragile bubble that surrounded his perfect little life intact? The answer to that was also yes. I was doing him a favor. He just didn't seem understand that quite yet. I didn't want him to have to understand.

He let go of my hand, the warmth disappearing along with it. I found myself yearning for his large, calloused digits to be entangled with my own once again. It was a sensation I quickly came to love, and would dearly miss.

It reminded me of the way my father's hands felt when I was just a little girl. He would wrap his around my own much smaller ones and swing our conjoined palms back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes, he would settle behind me and grab both before lifting me up in the air and swinging my little body in the same motion. I would giggle my head off, screaming higher daddy! Higher! through endless fits of giggles. That was all before the divorce. And the drugs. And the accident.

Troy took a few uneasy steps backwards, as if he'd been burned by my words. I tried to school my face into that of a normal one as I shook off the antsy feeling that the memory of my father had left behind in its wake. I didn't need him thinking anything of this encounter. I just needed to rip the Band-Aid off nice clean.

"I don't get you. We were having a great night." He rasped out, voice strained with what I believed to be anger. He had every right to be. I led him on. I led myself on, thinking I could finally have a happy normal life. Maybe even start all over and have a future with someone who actually cared about me.

Or not.

"Well maybe there lies the problem. You jumped into this because you wanted into my pants, but you don't know a single fucking thing about me." I spat with malice. It physically pained me to watch his reaction. He looked so fucking hurt. And I was the sole cause of every bit of it. I was like a tornado, leaving a path of destruction everywhere I went. It was inevitable, really.