𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲

𝟒𝟕-𝐌𝐫.𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓷𝓷

"What the hell is going on here." I here a deep voice rumble, waking me from my deep sleep. 

Jordan was right I don't even remember how to open my eyes let alone walk. 

God, how did I make it back to my dorm room?

"Jordan Campbell." The voice says again and suddenly everything registers. 

I peel my eyes open and make eye contact with a man in a suit. 

Not just any man, no, Jordan's father Werther Campbell. 

His brown eyes bore into mine like I am nothing but scum on the bottom of his shoe. 

I have only seen him a few times at events and charities for the school. He's the kind of man that makes your skin crawl. You know he has money and isn't afraid to use it to keep someone quiet. 

No wonder he and Jordan don't have the best relationship. Or it could also be that Jordan blames him for the reason his mom left. 

I look over to see Jordan asleep. He's on his stomach, his arms tucked under the pillow. 

I may take just a small, barely a millisecond, glance at how gorgeous his back looks. 

Then I push his shoulder, "Jordan." I mutter. 

I can't believe I stayed the night, it's not like me. 

He grumbles something under his breath. 

"Jordan." I say a little louder and he finally stirs, moving to lay on his back. 

His eyes slowly open and when he sees his dad they widen before he sits straight up. 

"Dad what are you doing here?" He asks, taken completely by surprise. 

"What I can't visit my son?" Werther asks before looking over at me, "I see what you are doing rather than focusing on your academics." He says and I don't miss the jab. 

"I did not spend all this money on you to attend Davenport academy, just so you could sleep with girls who have the intelligence of an orange."

Excuse him?

"Mr. Campbell sir, I did not work hard for the number one spot just to be compared to an orange." I retort. 

Ok so clearly my brain is still slightly fuzzy from waking up because I knew I shouldve kept my mouth quiet. 

Actually...

Fuck that I am not going to sit here and listen to him belittle me just because I happen to be in his sons bed...naked?

Oh shit, thank god the covers are covering me. 

"Quinn Taylor?" Werther asks, his eyes widening. 

I nod as my eyes dart around the room for my clothes. 

Or maybe something to use to kill myself and get out of this situation. 

"Dad can you wait outside so we can get dressed?" Jordan asks and with a nod his father leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. 

"Oh my god." I whine, burring my head in my hands. 

I feel the bed dip as Jordan slips out. 

I run my hands through my hair as I look up at Jordan. 

Just looking at his face I know that he's about to close himself off from me. I can feel it. 

Whatever is between him and his father runs deep and right now it's already affecting him.