“Why did you come up to me at the bar?” Alondra asks, catching me off-guard. I don’t know what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t this.
“Because I couldn’t look away from you, and Dylan noticed I was watching you. You were giving off some very strong fuck off vibes, though, so he dared me to kiss you. I know I didn’t have to agree to it, but I liked that you weren’t throwing yourself at my friends. Believe it or not, the puck bunnies here are relentless,” I explain, being as honest as I can without admitting I noticed Alondra the second she entered the bar with Macy.
I probably would have gone up to her at some point, whether Dylan said anything or not.
Alondra’s laugh fills the inside of my truck, and I can’t help joining her. “As if you don’t eat their attention up,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“It gets a little old after a while,” I reply, and her eyebrows raise in disbelief.
“Tell that to your fan club then. I’m tired of all the dirty looks I get when I’m with you.” Alondra scoffs, but I think she needs to ignore them like I do. Honestly, after a while, you don’t even notice it.
“Oh please. Being my friend is totally worth every dirty look you’ve received,” I say, nudging her arm with my elbow. Maybe we do have a shot at being normal again.
“Sure, pretty boy. Keep telling yourself that,” she says, laughing so hard she snorts, and I can’t help but join in.
CHAPTER 18
Alondra
“I’m actually obsessed,”Sara says, her jaw dropping as she takes in my costume.
“It’s not too much?” I ask, looking down. I feel a little ridiculous in the flannel and denim shorts, but it’s the cowboy hat and boots that make it obvious. It’s not practical in the slightest because who in their right mind would wear shorts when it’s forty degrees outside? But I guess that just means I’m not in my right mind.
“Hell no. Girl, if I thought you swung that way, I’d spend my entire night trying to take you home,” Sara says, and I think my cheeks might be as red as the cowboy boots on my feet.
“It’s perfect. Chef’s kiss,” Macy says, blowing me a kiss, and I think she might have the most creative costume of us. She’s wearing a white apron over a red dress with lipstick kiss marks on it that match her cherry lips and a white headband. The mixing spoon in Macy’s hand really completes the costume.
“She’s right. You do look good,” Ellie adds, pushing in the last bobby pin, securing her blonde hair up in the high bun. She slips into the light-up wings, spinning around. “How do I look?”
“Dylan won’t be able to keep his tongue in his mouth,” I tease, and her whole body flushes a bright red color. Maybewe would have been better off buying those inflatable dinosaur costumes off the Internet. I feel good, and I know I look hot, but what if I actually look stupid?
“Shut up. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbles, adjusting her wings and the top of her citrus green dress.
“Oh my god, are we still pretending you haven’t had a crush on Dylan Jones since freshman year, Tinkerbell?” Sara asks, and I probably shouldn’t be laughing because I’m more confused than ever about Jack.
I may or may not be wearing this in my attempt to get him to kiss me to prove that my attraction to him is purely physical.
“And what are you planning on riding tonight?” Ellie asks, raising an eyebrow at me. “Maybe a certain hockey captain, who’s been crashing on our couch the last few nights?”
The conversation with Jack’s friends and Ellie about Bradley was uncomfortable, but I’m not sure anything would have been worse than Jack shooting me down in his truck after the game last Friday night. I made up with Macy, but I couldn’t avoid telling her about Bradley when Jack insisted we all crash at their place that night. I got into a heated argument with Jack because he wanted to give up his bed for us to sleep in, but with another game Saturday, he was reluctant to agree.
I didn’t give anyone specifics—just a generalized explanation that the last guy I dated wasn’t a great guy, and he showed up at the apartment. I couldn’t even look at Dylan during the conversation because he had been with Jack, and obviously there’s more to it than what I said, but he didn’t call me on my bullshit. Jack suggested later that night I should tell all of them, but I don’t want to.
Even with the vague details, all three of them volunteered to give up their room for us to move into temporarily, but we quickly vetoed that idea. I refuse to let Bradley scare me frommy safe place, and I love our apartment, so we compromised by agreeing to let them take turns crashing on our couch. I have yet to see them take turns, though, because it’s been Jack staying the night every night.
It feels like overkill, especially because Bradley’s not stupid enough to show up twice in a week, but it does make me feel better knowing there’s someone there who can help if he does.
A laugh sputters from me, and I struggle to find my words. “We’re friends,” I say, but it feels like a weaker argument every time I have to point it out.
“A friend you wanna make out with,” Ellie sings and Macy pours a round of shots. “Look, I know I talk a lot of shit on Willow for trying to get with my brother, but as long as you aren’t going to go all stalker chick on Jack, I like the idea of you guys together. He’s hot, you’re hot, and you guys would make really cute babies, but it also helps that he’s not my brother.”
“Guys, I’m his tutor and I’m helping him find a girlfriend,” I say, taking the shot glass from Macy. There’s zero need to be talking about babies.
“Damn, maybe I need to get a tutor,” Sara adds, adding the final dusting of glitter to her arms. She’s going as a vampire, but all I know is that glitter is going to be a nightmare to get rid of later. “I think you all look hot enough to bang, and I guarantee those boneheads will agree with me. There won’t be anyone sleeping on your couch tonight,” she jokes, but goddamn, a part of me wants her to be right.
“I fucking love Halloween,” Macy says, an extra bounce in her step as we walk up to the guys’ booming house, filled with more people than I’ve ever seen here. It fits the label of what you’dimagine a stereotypical college athlete’s house to look like on one of the biggest party nights of the year.
“I bet Coop’s head is about to explode. He hates stuff like this,” Ellie adds, laughing, a slight wobble to her step from the additional shots she and Sara did with Macy before we left the apartment.
