“And? He’s the main man.”
“Yeah, he can and does have any chick he wants. That’s the kind of pressure I don’t need even if he wanted me.”
“Hey! I’m still here!”
“Yupppp.”
Zach clears his throat.
“Lots of the girls who hang around the team are jealous of you, Denny. You know that, right?”
The three-way conversation makes my head spin, but Freya’s within throwing distance so I chuck an ice cube from my now-empty Moscow mule at her. It doesn’t land. She tuts and swipes that cloth over the counter again. The endless circles are hypnotic. I squint at her and blink a couple times to free myself from that weird sensation. “Jealous ofme?”
“Sure. Rookie or not, he’s going all the way to the top and I bet you go with him.”
I drop my cell onto the counter. “I’m his best friend. Of course I am.”
“If you say so.”
Ha!
“Of courseI say so! What are we even talking about? I think I know what I’m saying, Freya!”
“AndIthinkyouknow exactly what I’m talking about.”
I gape at her because I’m pretty sure I don’t.
See, if wishes were hockey players, fat girls would ride.
And that’s the bitch of it.
Puck rabbits, the ones who live off celery sticks and kale, love to make it seem like my curves are a bad thing. Whereas I think I’m a curvy goddess who enjoys some of life’s delicacies.
Honestly, with all the roughage they consume, you’d think they’d have more cheerful, and less constipated, dispositions.
Freya’s not a puck rabbit. She’s borderline. It’s why I like her. She’s definitely too good for the Dukes’s captain.
“Zach doesn’t like celery sticks, Freya,” I tell her.
She squints. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“It means that he’ll fuck anyone and everyone, even celery stick consumers. He doesn’t discriminate.”
“Jesus. I should have cut you off earlier.” She plops the dishcloth in the sink behind the counter. “At least he doesn’t cheat.”
“Alec cheated on you?”
Knew she was better than him.
Her mouth tightens, twisting with bitterness. “He’s the one who asked me to be exclusive. I was okay hooking up, you know?”
“Men are pigs but hockey players are wild boars.”
“Damn straight.” Her gaze drifts across the bar. “Yourwild boar savior approaches.”
“Huh?”
“Jesus, Denny, where are your shoes?”
