IM SORRY I HAVENT POSTED IN SO LONG BUT HERES ANOTHER CHAPTER DONT HATE ME

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"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Jane exhales as she watches me from the other side of the room. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. "I didn't know it was serious."

Jane arches a genuinely curious eyebrow at me. "Really?"

"Seriously," I tell her. "I just... I don't know. I mean, I knew it was serious, but I never thought of it as sexual harassment or assault, you know?" I shrug. "I barely had time to even process what it was before it started getting blown out of proportion. I just feel bad for not saying something sooner, especially because he did it to another girl."

"Probably more than one," Jane agrees, and then looks at me intently. "I understand, though. It can be hard to differentiate assault and an accident. Besides, ultimately it's up to you whether to tell your story or not." After a moment, she asks hesitantly, "Are you okay?"

I nod slowly. "Yeah," I tell her. "It's just weird, you know, now that all the guys on the team know the truth."

"I'm surprised Andrew didn't throw a punch," Jane muses.

"Me too," I agree with a small smile. Andrew was like my guard dog; he always took care of me and made sure nobody was messing with me.

We fall into lapses of easy conversation much less intense than the previous topic for a few minutes before a knock comes from the door. I glance at Jane and see she lifted her finger to her nose— a silent gesture meaning she wouldn't be getting the door— and I roll my eyes.

I slide out of bed and cross the small room to reach for the door handle. When I open it up, I'm surprised when I come face to face— with our height difference, it was more like face to chest— with Vincent.

My brow furrows in confusion and I look at him with dazed eyes. "Vincent?"

"Hey," He says as his gaze floats briefly over my face, and then slides over my shoulder, where I'm sure he saw Jane sitting on the bed. When he looks back at me, he straightens and tells me, "I wanted to talk."

Not even seconds later, I hear a thud from behind me, and Jane appears beside me with a smile. "I was just about to head to the library," Jane grins at me. "I'll see you later."

I stare at her incredulously as she moves past me and Vincent in the doorway and down the hall. "Without a backpack?" I call after her.

I can only hear a laugh come from her as she disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with Vincent. I look up at him again and see a small smirk pulling up the corner of his lips.

"Come in, I guess," I mumble and retreat back into my room.

I climb onto my bed half because there was nowhere else to sit and half because I liked being on my lofted area to force distance between Vincent and I.

He enters the room slowly, his eyes scanning my half of the room as he walks. His gaze lands on my desk, where I had taped a bunch of photographs of me and Danny and my mom.

Vincent leans toward the photos to inspect them, and I grab a pillow to put in my lap nervously. When I think he's going to ask about the images, he looks back at me.

"I came by to see how you're doing," Vincent reveals straightforwardly.

I blink at him, dumbfounded that he cared at all, before replying slowly, "I'm doing good, thank you."

Which, for the record, I was. The only part about this whole thing that really sucked was that the whole team knew; if it were up to me, nobody would have known I was ever involved. But I was also well aware that Andrew would kick anyone's ass if they said anything out of line, so at least I had that.

"That's good," He says, and stuffs his hands in his pockets, and I almost laugh at how out of place he looks. Vincent notices the smile I was fighting and smiled a little too. "What?"

I shake my head a little. "Nothing. I just... I've never had such a large man come into my small dorm."

When the words leave my mouth, I realize how they sound, and Vincent doesn't miss the opportunity for his lips to curl up into a smirk. "You mean I'm the first guy to come back here?"

I open my mouth to tell him to shut up, but he decides he isn't finished.

"I've got to say, I'm kind of honored," Vincent continues with eyes shining of mischief. "This has to be some kind of record."

I give him a blank look. "Are you done?"

"Not yet," Vincent smirks wider. "I'm honestly flattered—"

"Okay, that's enough," I interject, but even I can't hide the smile from my lips. "What I meant, was that you're too big and this room is too small."

Vincent scoffs playfully. "This room is big enough for plenty of people. Hell, I could even fit in that bed. You're overreacting."

I quirk my eyebrow in disbelief as I look at him. "There is a zero percent chance you could fit in this bed. You're huge."

"Watch me," Were his infamous last words before he climbed into my bed.

I sat there, shocked and wide eyed, as Vincent jumped onto my lofted bed and pushed me over until I was almost against the wall. He spread out comfortably and put his hands behind his head as they rested on my pillow.

Then he grinned at me. "See?" He beams. "I'm not too big. You're too small."

I'm pulled out of the initial shock when I realize Vincent Bradshaw had actually climbed into my bed beside me and exclaim, "I am not too small! I'm normal sized!"

"I could pick you up with my pinky," Vincent promises.

I snort a laugh and tell him, "That's an exaggeration," but when I watch Vincent raise his pinky I add: "But don't try to."

He smirks. I stare at him and feel something stir in the pit of my stomach. Vincent was very close to me, in my bed, with a confident yet relaxed aura radiating off his being. When did he get so close?

"Only because you asked nicely," He responds with that smirk, but it slowly fades as his eyes look back and forth between mine, and he asks in a much softer voice, "How are you?"

It shocked me how personal the question seemed and how intimate the moment suddenly was. I felt my expression harden as I blink and look away from him before settling my gaze on his once more. "I'm good. We went over this."

"Not about the stuff with Max," Vincent says cautiously. His eyes search my face. "How are things with your mom and brother?"

It felt like cold water had been dumped on my body as I sit up straighter and promptly shake my head. "Fine," I tell him in a clipped tone, displeased to be talking about this. "How are things with your dad?"

He stares at me for another moment. There was no annoyance or emotion at all, really, swimming in his eyes. He was just observing patiently, waiting for me to get my irrational defenses out of my system. "I'm being serious, Lily."

"I don't know why you're asking me this," I tell him stupidly, feeling flustered by the sudden question. I slide off my bed and take a few steps away from the bed to simply put space between us. I couldn't think rationally with him so close, anyway.

"I told you before," Vincent says in a smoldering voice. His intense gaze bore into me so deep that I felt goosebumps heighten on the skin of my arms. "I want to make sure you're okay."

I had a brief flashback of the time in the locker room when he said he wanted to keep me from drowning, and I felt my stomach clench in nerves. I've never before had anyone try so hard to know about my personal life. I didn't know how to react.

"And I told you before," I say through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

We stare at each other for a moment, at a hard stand off, but when I see him start to break the silence by opening his mouth, I shake my head.

"I think you should go," I tell him as I cross my arms over my chest and avert my gaze from his.

More silence followed my words, but I didn't dare peak tip from the ground, and after a moment, I heard shuffling and then his feet as they contacted the ground. I kept glaring at the ground as he passed me and his scent filled all my senses at once, and then all the sudden, the door was shut and he was gone.

I let myself take a deep breath when he was gone and finally looked up. It felt like we were always having the same conversation and it was always ending the same way. Honestly, I was well aware that I was to blame for that. I kept shutting him out. But then again, when did Vincent ever give me reason to not shut him out?

When he opened up to you about his mom, a little annoying voice in my head practically screams, Just trust him.

I bite my lip and glance at the door for a brief second and before I realize what I'm doing, I'm yanking the handle open and stepping into the hallway to call Vincent and tell him to come back, but when I step into the hall, he's nowhere to be found. He disappeared already, almost as if he were never here at all.

When my alarm rang at seven in the morning, I didn't hesitate lifting my hand and shutting it off. After all, I hadn't been able to sleep all night. I stayed up for hours, laying in bed, thinking about Vincent. I didn't want to admit it, but I couldn't get him off my mind.

It was more than the way he was eager to know more about me, too. It was the way his touch sent my skin in a frenzy of ignited fire racing along my arm, merely because he brushed against me. I couldn't explain the magnetic draw that was pulling me towards him, and I didn't want to.

I didn't want to think Vincent Bradshaw was anything more than a stupid, self-centered football player. But after our last week and a half together, I already knew that he was so much more than that. Vincent, at his best, was actually a decent guy.

I got dressed and went to my classes, but spent most of the time forcing my mind away from thoughts of the football player and towards the class material. Because of this constant battle, I barely scribbled down a few lines of notes, and I missed the majority of the lecture.

"Lily?"

I blinked myself out of a daze and looked at Mariah, a girl who usually sat next to me in class. She looked down at me with her brow knitted together and concern written all across her face.

"Yeah?" I say hesitantly in confusion.

She glances around the room and then back at me. "Class ended a few minutes ago," She says cautiously, and I take the time to look around and see the emptying classroom. "Are you okay?"

I look at her and smile sheepishly. "Just lost in my own little world, I guess."

Mariah smiles timidly back at me and mumbles a goodbye as she walks past me and follows the rest of the students out the door. I let out a breath and start packing up my backpack and then make my way towards the radio station for my shift and try not to think about the one boy who's been plaguing my mind all day.

Unfortunately, my shift didn't help distract me. While I had something to do with my hands, my mind still wandered all over to thoughts of Vincent. Only when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket did I finally stop thinking about the football player, but it only lasted for a moment before I read the text Sandra had sent me.

Come to the field.

I looked at the message and contemplated texting her back to tell her that I couldn't just leave my shift at work when my phone buzzed again.

Now!

I give a wry smile to myself and all the thoughts of disobeying her disappear. The radio station was dead, per usual, and I managed to leave early without hearing any complaints from my boss. After only a half hour of work, I made my way to the field two hours early, trying way too hard to focus on kicking the pebble on the ground instead of thinking about a certain somebody.

"Hey Lil," A familiar voice distracts me from my pebble-kicking, and I'm more than pleased when I look up and see Trevor's goofy grin. "Sorry to interrupt your stare down with the rock."

"It's a pebble," I mutter indignantly, and he just raises his brow at me.

"Got it," He drawls and then shifts his gaze to look in front of us. He moved his hands in front of him and started wringing them, and only then did I realize he seemed a little nervous. That was his tell, after all: he always wrung his hands before he started talking about something that made him nervous.

I couldn't help but smirk. "What's got your panties in a twist today, Trev?"

"What do you mean?" He asks defensively, and I give him a pointed look to his hands, which he promptly hides behind his back and tosses me a sheepish smile. "It's about Jane."

I suppress a half groan half grin and continue looking at him with a straight face. I wanted to groan because I wasn't so sure that it would be a good idea for Trevor to keep fostering this little crush on Jane. Don't get me wrong, I love Jane. But I also know her slogan of "one and done" when it comes to boys.

"Yes?" I press, scanning his face briefly to see more traces of nerves.

"Do you think she would want to go out to dinner with me?" He asks, darting his gaze to check my reaction quickly before looking in front of us again. "I want to get to know her."

I raise my eyebrows tentatively. "Dinner, huh?"

"I know I haven't really talked to her much, but I want to," Trevor explains with a sigh, but after he seems to deflate, his eyes light up and his head snaps toward me. "I have an idea!"

I can't help but smile a little. When Trevor got excited, it was like watching a kid open presents on Christmas morning. His entire face lit up with a smile and his eyes sparkled like a child's. "What's your idea?"

"You come to dinner with us," He tells me happily. "That way it's not weird and I'm not nervous."

It didn't take long for the smile to fall off my face and I start rejecting his idea before he's even done proposing it. "No way. I'm not third wheeling your date."

He looks at me hard for a moment before his eyes light up once more, and I know the lightbulb in his head went off for the second time. "Then I'll get one of the guys to come. It will be like a double date."

"A double date?" I echo lamely. I haven't been on one of those in... well, ever.

"Yeah!" Trevor grins again. "It will be fun. Come on, when's the last time you had a meal paid for you?" He knows he's beginning to win me over when my gaze darts to him and my expression softens a bit, so he continues. "Please Lil? You know how I get when I'm nervous. I say the dumbest things and I can't stop talking. And I sweat a lot. Don't make me look like a bumbling, sweating idiot in front of Jane."

I look at him warily, on the brink of saying hell no and fine, when he gives me his puppy dog eyes. He knows I can't resist his puppy dog eyes.

"Pleeeeeeeeeease, Lily?" He begs once more in a sullen voice.

And, just like that, I broke. I sighed heavily and he started smiling before I even said, "Fine, but only for you."

By the time we near the stadium, Trevor has already practiced asking Jane four different ways and made me vote on a scale of 1-10 which was the most casual. I teased him nonstop, of course, but on the inside it warmed my heart how excited he was, even though I wasn't a hundred percent positive that Jane would be this excited back.

He turned left to get to his residence hall while I turned right to head into the stadium early. He asked why the hell I was going two hours early, but gave me an understanding nod when I just said, "Sandra."

When I got into Sandra's office, she was nowhere to be found, and neither was Coach Baxter. I waited in her office for ten minutes and even texted her to tell her I was here, but she never made her presence known. I was just about to boil over in annoyance that she made me leave my job early to come see her but she wasn't even here when I hear a familiar voice.

"Hey," Vincent says from behind me, and I whip around to see him leaning in the door frame.

I stand up, startled, and look at him in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

He looks at me as if I have two heads before explaining slowly, "Sandra texted me and told me that we needed to have an extra session so I can try to practice with the guys today." He tilts his head and looks at my perplexed expression. "You didn't know? Why did you think you were here?"

I shrug. "She just said come to the field," I sigh and add in a mutter, "I was in the middle of work."

Vincent is silent for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry, that sucks." He shifts between his feet and offers awkwardly, "I can pay you for the time you're missing."

My head shoots up and I look at him with a furrowed brow and splutter, "What?" And then I shake my head vehemently. "No," I spit, starting to feel offended. "Why would you even--"

He holds his hands up in defense and interrupts my soon to be arguments. "Hey, I don't know. I know you need the money from work. I wasn't trying to offend you," He says, and oddly enough, I feel myself start to calm down a little, and the huff and puff gradually disappears. When he sees this, a little smile tugs at his lips. "How about we forget the dumb things I say and we get started?"

I smirk a little. "Then I'd have to forget everything you say."

To my surprise, he laughs, and the sound is nicer to hear than expected. "Now that the insults are out of the way," Vincent jokes, "how about we go out to the field?"

And for once, Vincent successfully managed to divert my anger and turn it into smiles and laughter. It was insane, the way he was so patient with me, despite me being so untrusting of him time and time again. I was well aware that I came with plenty of defenses, plenty of reluctance toward letting people in. And yet, he still tried.

I followed him out to the field, trailing behind him with my PT bag, and we set up in the closest corner, in the sliver of sunlight beside the area that was shaded by the shadow of the stadium bleachers.

We worked for thirty minutes among pleasant conversation in between his grunts of pain and discomfort, and I didn't push him too hard to prove a point. I could see clear improvement in his injury but was wary of the fact Sandra wanted him to practice with the team later. The entire time we were working out, it became more and more clear that he wasn't ready for a team practice.

I kept my opinions to myself while we worked and just continued our stretches and exercises in the hopes that he would show more promise by the time that practice started. But when the guys started filing onto the field and Sandra and Coach Baxter began approaching me, I was acutely aware of the fact that he shouldn't be practicing yet.

Sandra comes over first and looks at me. "I see you got my messages," She says dryly. "You responded thirty minutes later. What took so long?"

I grit my teeth and explain calmly, "I was at work. I had to leave early and--"

"Don't take so long next time," She says curtly, and then Coach Baxter approaches with a smile on his face.

He claps his hands together and looks from Vincent to me. "So, Lily," Coach starts with a friendly smile. "What do you say? Is Vincent ready to join us for practice today? The guys are starting to get antsy about having him back."