My purpose for working with Oakley suddenly felt...wrong. “They want a redemption story,” I mumbled. “Oakley, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “But yeah. You working with me this season serves many purposes. You see, the building wasn’t up to code. The door to the roof wasn’t even locked. If we wanted to sue them, we could have.”

The question escaped me before I could filter it. “So why didn’t you?”

“No amount of money can make up for the fact that she’s gone.” He stood up and looked around the hotel room, avoiding my eyes. “I’m really worn out from the game today. I’m going to brush my teeth and go to bed.”

I felt terrible for Oakley and disgusted with the university. I couldn’t imagine attending the same school where my sibling died. I had a lot of feelings to work through. A surge of angry energy flooded my system, and I needed to take it out on the treadmill. I told Oakley goodnight and let him know I was going down to the gym next to the lobby.

I cranked the treadmill up and let the pounding of my feet drown Oakley’s voice telling me about his sister and the university’s cover up. I ran until all I could think about was the screaming in my thighs and I just couldn’t go anymore. I sat down on the floor next to the treadmill to cool off and stretch.

How could Oakley even stand to be around me, knowing that the university was just using me to try to paint a pretty picture with his family’s tragedy and his skill on the football field? It explained a lot about his attitude toward me at the beginning. As I was working out the tension in my knees, I decided I would tell Oakley that I was going to step out of this internship as his publicist. I wouldn’t be able to graduate early, but I would be able to live with myself.

I went back to the room to find it completely dark and Oakley in bed. I slipped into the bathroom to take another shower, trying to be quiet so that I wouldn’t wake him. I scrubbed my hair free of the sweat while thinking about his sister. That could have easily been me. I was headed down a one-way street to self-destruction, and the only thing that saved me from that was a heavy dose of embarrassment.

I used to be so desperate for attention and validation that I’d do anything. Was that what she was doing? Showing off for the approval of her peers?

I shut off the water, slipped into my matching pale blue pajama set, then slid under the covers with a sigh. This job no longer felt right. What was I going to do? How was I going to graduate early?