Wes laughs at his own joke, but that's not new.The guy is as interesting as a plank of wood.Yet, somehow he managed to convince Kinsey to agree to marry him in two years’ time.
Go figure.
Kinsey glances up when I walk in, her smile faltering slightly when she sees my face.
“Hey, babe, Ally just got back,” she says to the screen.“Say hi.”
I force myself to walk over and wave at Wes's pixelated face.“Hey, Wes.How's the arm?”
“Better than your mood, apparently.”He squints at the camera.“You look like shit.”
“Wes!”Kinsey scolds.I ignore it.Wes has no tact, but I can't expect much.Like I said before, athletes are gonna athlete.
“I feel worse,” I mutter.“Much worse.”
Kinsey's eyes narrow with interest.“Okay, now I'm intrigued.I'll call you later, Wes.”
“Yeah, I'll probably be playing, but whatever.You talk to the girl you live with.”
Kinsey rolls her eyes.“Love you,” she says before hanging up.Then she shuts her laptop down and turns to face me, tucking her legs underneath her.“Spill.Why are you sulking?”
“I'm not sulking.”
“You absolutely are.You've got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one where your left eye twitches and your jaw does that clenchy thing.”She gestures at my face.“That look.The murder look.”
I drop my bag on the floor and collapse face-first onto my bed, groaning into my pillow.The events of the past hour replay in my head like a horror movie I can't turn off.
“I always knew you were too good for him.”
“I was getting you a drink.”
“I'm glad you're single.”
God, I hate him.
“Do you tutor any hockey players?”I ask, my voice muffled by the pillow.
“Not right now,” Kinsey says slowly.“My hours got pulled back when I took the TA position.I still do some group sessions, but none of them have hockey players at the moment.”There's a pause.“Why?Did one if them miss the net and end up in the penalty box?”
I groan as I roll onto mt back and stare at the ceiling.“You ever heard of Jay Cross?”
Her face scrunches up in thought.“The name sounds familiar, but I don't really follow hockey.You know I'm a baseball girlie.”
“He's the captain of the Covey Crushers.Junior.Six-foot-something.Abs that have abs.Smile that should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction.”
“Okay...”She draws out the word.“And?”
“And he's an asshole.”I grab the nearest pillow and cover my face with it.“That's all you need to know.”
“Is there a reason you just came to this conclusion?Or have you always hated him and I'm just now finding out?”
“Always.”I groan again, louder this time.“Remember that football party where I met Derek?”
“The one where you came home the next morning ranting about some hockey player with a terrible pick-up line instead of the swimmer you'd just spent the night with?”
