Maybe whoever sent those texts will quit if I stay away from the hockey players.
CHAPTER TWO
DON’T GO ON BREAKING MY HEART
TUCKER
“Are you sure she’s coming?” I’m pacing back and forth between the couch and the front door.
Quack, quack.
Baety is following me, waddling behind me like a duckling with her mama.
“She texted that she would sneak out as soon as her roommates were asleep.” Colsen answers. “Can you two stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy. Besides, you’re gonna wear a path into the carpet if you don’t stop.”
“I’m sorry.” I look outside through the peephole in the door. “You know when I’m nervous, I have to move.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I know.”
I walk back to the couches; Colsen is sitting on the one that faces the door. He can pretend to be calm and collected as much as he wants, but I know he’s as anxious as I am.
“When I’m nervous, I also get hungry. Do you think we should order something? Maybe a pizza?”
The question has barely come out of my mouth.
“Did someone say pizza?” Mack walks out of his room and lowers himself onto the couch opposite Colsen.
I roll my eyes. “Do you have super hearing, Mack? I thought you were listening to music with your noise canceling headphones.”
“I was.” He shrugs. “And I was about to go to sleep, but I heard you mention pizza, so I came out in case you were serious about it.”
“I swear to God, when pizza is even mentioned, you’re like a shark smelling one single drop of blood in an entire ocean.” Col ribs him.
Mack doesn’t take offense. “Pizza is life. So? Were you serious, Tuck? I vote for pizza. Possibly pepperoni and mushrooms.”
Mack is a good guy, but his love for pizza borders on obsession. And I love pizza myself.
“I don’t know.” I snap. “That’s why I was asking Col.”
“Are you hungry?” Colsen asks.
Thinking about it, I don’t think I am. “No. I’m too nervous to eat.”
“You have your answer, then.” My best friend says.
“But what if Taryn’s hungry?” I turn on my heel to go check the front door again.
“I think we should order pizza just in case she is.” Mack suggests.
I turn to look at him. “If you want pizza, why don’t you get some? Why do you have to wait for us to order it?”
Mack’s father is a retired NHL player. A really rich and famous one. I know he isn’t hurting for money, and he isn’t tight with his money either. He always offers to pay for food whenever we order something.
He avoids meeting my gaze. “My dad wants me on a new eating plan. There are a few teams interested in signing me, and he wants me to perform at my best. Spoileralert, pizza isn’t included in the plan his sports nutrition specialist just emailed me.”
“If your season this year were even ten times worse than last season, you’d still have every NHL team knocking on your door.” Colsen’s tone is encouraging.
“Not according to my dad,” Mack’s jaw ticks. “He’s always looking for something to fix or to improve in me or my game.”
