“Of course.” I swallow, utterly impressed with my new best friend. Whether she wants the title or not, Lacey just earned it.
“See you at brunch tomorrow?”
I knew Kinsey wouldn’t let Lacey have the last word, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Why would I?—”
“Your mom is making crepes, Savvy. Were you not invited?”
I wasn’t. Though I’m not the least bit concerned that my parents are choosing Kinsey over me, I am slightly worried someone said something to get me out of that invite.
“I had other plans,” I lie, to which Kinsey actually snickers.
“We’re doing brunch at the hockey house.” Lacey swoops in. “After home games, we usually party, then the team does brunch the next morning.”
“Oh, is Savvy cooking?” It almost sounds like Kinsey is supporting a hobby of mine rather than implying that’s the only reason I would be invited.
“Her French toast is to die for, but I don’t think Noah’s hosting this week.” She looks to me as if for confirmation. “Then again, if it’s Colt’s turn, we might be better off accepting your mom’s invite.” Lacey lies seamlessly, but Kinsey stopped listening.
Her eyes are wide, taking in my jersey.
“You and Callahan?” she asks, making no effort to hide her confusion. “I thought you were just trying to belong for once. To fit in with the dozens of girls planning to take him home tonight.”
“How disappointing for them that he’s going home with Sav.” I love how confidently Lacey says it, even though Noah and I are still in the ‘I’ll text you after the game to let you know’ phase.
“You sure about that?” Kinsey turns to me like she knows, and I hate that she can still read me.
“This is why Noah begged you to wear his jersey, so everyone knows he’s yours. Though judging by some of the looks you’ve been getting, might also be to keep him out of jail,” Lacey teases. I bite my bottom lip to keep from arguing with her, because I can see how much this bothers Kinsey, but she recovers quick.
“I’m surprised you went for an athlete, after everything,” she says pointedly, and for a second, I can’t breathe. “Sav was a little awkward growing up, so she never liked that kind of attention. It’s a shame, because her mom tried so hard to force entire teams to hang out with her. Not that it ever amounted to anything.”
I could tell her I didn’t go after Noah. That if I’m being honest, he made most of the first moves. Or I could point out that my mother telling my brothers to keep an eye on me when I was a kid is way less pathetic than the way she’s still trying to force Dallas to hang out with her. But I don’t want to tear her down or argue, and I especially don’t want to give Lacey the context behind those comments. I just want to get away from Kinsey and the way she actively tries to make me feel small.
“It was so nice seeing you Kinsey.” The lie feels wrong on my tongue, but I smile politely. “Say hello to your parents for me.”
“And to yours,” she calls after me.
* * *
Lacey waits until we’re back on the home side to say, “At first I worried I was misreading things, but she was a total bitch.”
“I’m sorry you had to—thank you.”
“I hate mean girls,” she shares. “There was one at our school too, always going out of her way to make everyone feel like crap. I had no interest in groveling or being mean to others so she would like me, which is probably why my best friends were guys.”
“She was mine,” I admit.
“Your mean girl.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“My best friend. From kindergarten until last April.”
“I am so sorry,” Lacey tells me. “I always love watching Darren win, but tonight let’s go watch them kick BU’s ass?”
“I’m really glad I came tonight,” I tell her. Seeing Kinsey sucked, but whatever this is with Lacey, hopefully the beginnings of a friendship, feels worth it.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Noah
