“It was a good game though,” Talia said, stealing a handful of chips. They’d gone to the hockey game tonight against NMU, but I’d opted to stay home for obvious reasons. Like hell would I be caught dead at a hockey game looking like I supported Dumontier.
“Drew’s goal was insane. He stole the puck and just?—”
“I don’t care,” I said flatly, cutting her off.
“Right.” Talia grinned. “Because you hate him.”
“I do hate him.”
“We know.” Rachel exchanged a look with Ayanna that I didn’t like at all. “Speaking of the hockey house, I may have invited some people to join us.”
My stomach dropped. “What people?”
The doorbell rang and my stomach swooped with foreboding.
“Those people,” Rachel said cheerfully, jumping up before I could stop her.
I heard voices in the entryway—female voices—and then Rachel returned with two girls trailing behind her.
I recognized Sam from around campus and seeing her come and go from next door. The other girl with light brown hair was Abby Walker, whom I hadn’t known until she started dating Foster Kane, the captain of the hockey team.
“Harper, Ayanna, Talia—this is Sam and Abby,” Rachel said. “Abby is Foster’s girlfriend. You guys know Sam moved in next door. I thought she might like a break from the testosterone in her house.”
“Hey,” Sam said, as she dropped onto our couch with the easy confidence of someone who always fit in wherever she went. “Thanks for letting us crash girls’ night.”
“Of course,” Rachel said. “Wine?”
Sam and Abby both nodded. I tried not to look too obvious about studying Sam while my roommates chatted with them. I couldn’t decide if she was the enemy yet. She could be the best person in the world, but she lived with Dumontier—by choice—which made her judgment questionable at best.
“So how’s living in the hockey house?” Talia asked, like she’d read my mind. “I feel like that’s either the best or worst decision ever.”
Sam laughed. “Honestly? It’s not bad. I’d gotten to know the guys pretty well when Abby started dating Foster, and they aren’t nearly as bad as their reputations make them out to be.” She glanced at me as she said that last part, a question in her gaze that I pointedly ignored.
I grew up with two of her roommates in a small town where everyone knows everyone. I think I knew them better than she did after only a few months.
“Foster played a great game tonight,” Ayanna said to Abby.
“He did,” Abby said, her whole face lighting up. “I’m so proud of him. They’re on a five-game winning streak now. Hopefully they can keep it up for tomorrow’s game too.”
“Drew’s goal was incredible,” Talia added. “The way he just read that pass and took it all the way?—”
“Can we not talk about Devil Dumontier?” I said, taking a long drink of wine. I was already thinking about him more than I was comfortable with because of this godforsaken psych project—part of me wondered if this was the universe having a laugh at my expense.
Sam made a sound that was somewhere between a hum and a snort, and my hackles were immediately raised.
“What?”
“Nothing.” But she was smiling in this knowing way that made me want to throw a pillow at her. “It’s just funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“Well,” Sam said, settling back into the couch like she was getting comfortable for story time. “He complains about you a lot. Like, alot. How you’re impossible to deal with. How the universe is punishing him by making you his project partner. How he’d rather do the entire project solo than have to spend another minute working with a Tinsley.”
Good. Let him be miserable. I was miserable too.
“But here’s the thing,” Sam continued, and her smile shifted into something more thoughtful. “He talks about youconstantly. Like, we’ll be eating dinner and somehow the conversation turns to you. We’ll be watching TV and he’ll randomly mention something you said in class. Liam and Gordy have started a tally of how many times your name comes up in a day.”
I blinked. “What?”
