I lean over my books, studying Angie. I haven’t missed her subtle digs about hockey. I feel like it’s part of why she doesn’t like me.
“Why do you hate hockey players so much?”
“I do not hate hockey players.”
“You totally do. It’s not just me. I know why you hated me.”
“I d?—”
I hold up a hand, cutting her off. “And don’t say you don’t. I know you do.”
Angie stares down at her hands, fidgeting on the table between us. It’s like she’s deciding what she wants to tell me. The truth or another lie?
“It was my high school boyfriend. He played for the hockey team.”
Looking up at me, Angie’s eyes are closed off. For as much as she keeps her emotions close to the vest, her eyes usually give her away. But now, I can’t get a read on her.
“I started dating him when I was a freshman. He was a sophomore and was a starter for the varsity team.”
“He sounds like a dick.”
That gets a laugh out of her. “He was. Cocky as all hell. I still don’t know what I saw in him. I think I got swept up in how popular he was.”
“Like any high school romance.”
“If you can call it that. More like an infatuation.”
“So what happened?” I ask.
Angie cringes. “He broke up with me before he left for college. Said he didn’t want to be tied down and needed to play the field.”
“What a dick. Does he still play?”
She nods. “Kyle Tanner.”
“The star from Boston?” My jaw drops. Damn. Angie wasn’t kidding when she said he was a dick.
“One and the same.”
“He is a fucking douchebag. I played with him at a hockey camp one summer. Slept with anything on legs.”
“Turns out he was sleeping with half the school while we were together. I was so heartbroken when he dumped me then I find that out? He made me feel like the biggest idiot. I couldn’t believe how stupid I was. I should’ve known better.”
I shake my head. “No, guys like that are good at deceiving people. They tell you exactly what you want to hear to make it okay.”
“Is that from your own experience?”
“Fuck no. If there’s one thing my dad taught me, it’s to respect women.”
“He did?” Her tone is questioning.
“He’s not the person you think he is. He taught me to be better than he was.”
“Still,”—Angie straightens—“it turned me off hockey.”
I whistle. “Wow. I’m sorry. That really sucks. Hockey is the greatest sport out there.”
“Whatever you say, Troy.”
