Chapter 34: Reality Check

I get to campus with this weird feeling in my gut ... but not in a bad way. Not that tight knot of stress or pit in your stomach kind of thing. No. It’s warm. Steady. Calming. A sensation I hadn’t felt in months.

Fuck, I feel good.

I drag my feet a bit heading toward the main building—still got five minutes before class. I pass a couple of guys I know in the hallway, give them a quick wave, and then I see Jack—leaning on the railing like he always is, half his bag open, the type who does fuck all but sees everything.

He watches me for two seconds. Frowns. Then grins.

Jack: “Dude, what the hell did you eat this morning to look that awake?”

I raise a brow, amused.

Me: “What? Can’t I just be in a good mood?”

He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to read my soul. The bastard knows me way too well.

Jack: “No, seriously ... it’s her, isn’t it?”

I roll my eyes.

Me: “Dude, is that all you ever think about?”

But he’s already laughing. Gives me a playful shoulder bump, looking way too pleased with himself.

Jack: “You finally hit it, didn’t you?”

I breathe out through my nose, pretending to be annoyed—but really, I’m fighting the urge to crack the fuck up. He’s dead on. It’s actually freaky.

Me: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jack: “Alright, alright ... don’t wanna talk about it. But seriously, man—been watching you circle her for weeks. I’m just happy for you.”

I nod, that smug little smile tugging at my lips.

Me: “Yeah ... thanks.”

And then, of course, he can’t resist one more jab, laughing as he says:

Jack: “Maybe now you’ll actually focus on the ice for the next game?”

This time I let out a real laugh. One that just comes—no effort.

Me: “Shut the fuck up.”

God, I haven’t laughed like that in forever.

And damn ... it feels good.

We’re loitering near the lecture hall, waiting for the doors to open. People walk past, lean against the walls—some smoking, others scrolling. And I’m just here. Chill as fuck. Still grinning like an idiot.

Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out. The screen lights up.

Emma.

I try to hold back the smile—but it’s already on my face. Automatic. I glance up real quick, trying not to look suspicious, but Jack catches me instantly.

Jack: “Ha! I knew it! Already texting her this early?”

I shake my head, and on some dumb reflex, I tilt the screen toward him.

Me: “It’s just my sister.”

He squints for half a second, then shrugs.

Jack: “Mmh.”

But inside, I’m dying.

It’s not just my sister. It’s her.

The girl who makes me hard just by breathing. The one I bent over the kitchen table. The one I want again. And again. And again. And no one knows.

That tiny lie, that little game—this secret only we share...

Fuck, it’s driving me insane.

And right now, all I wanna do ... is open that message.

Once I’m settled in the lecture hall, I grab a seat near the back—just to have some breathing room. The professor isn’t here yet, it’s chaos all around—laughs, people tossing stuff back and forth on their laptops.

I’m somewhere else.

I quietly pull out my phone, unlock it, and open Emma’s message.

And then ... fuck.

Emma (message): “Working on next month’s content this morning! Kisses 😘”

With a selfie.

Black lace panties. Tight-ass tank top. No bra. She’s on the bed, half-lying down, that killer look in her eyes—like she’s daring me to drop everything and wreck her right now.

My heart skips.

And my dick? Fully awake. Instantly.

I feel the pressure building in my jeans—hot, sudden. I glance around, reflexively, but no one’s clocked me. I drop my screen brightness a little, then shoot back a quick reply.

Me (message): “You look fucking incredible ... but come on, I’m in class and already hard because of you.”

I lock my phone and slide it away—almost regretfully.

But it buzzes again a second later.

Emma (message): “Oops... 🙈 Sorry 😘”

I can’t help but smile. She’s toying with me and I fucking love it.

The professor walks in, drops a couple of lame jokes to grab attention, then hits us with a flat announcement:

Professor: “Final grades for last term are now available online. Feel free to check.”

Immediately—laptops everywhere. Clicks, whispers, sighs. The room shifts—like everyone’s holding their breath at once.

I open mine too. Chill.

Until the screen loads.

And then my stomach flips.

Fuck...

It’s a fucking nosedive. There’s no other word for it. Every grade—down the drain. Law theory, legal history, methodology ... all of it is wrecked. Like, brutally.

I feel a bead of sweat slide down my back.

Year’s almost over. I’m supposed to start my internship in two weeks, turn in my report, validate my credits.

But if I look at these averages...

I’m screwed.

And the worst part? I know why. I dropped the ball months ago. Let it all go to shit. The classes, the reading, the assignments ... I checked out.

Without thinking, out of sheer instinct, I screenshot the results. And send it.

Me (message): “Look at this...”