I nod. I’m so tired of this stupid stalemate. Tired of the ridiculous dance we’re doing, trying to avoid each other. I almost wish things had stayed the way they were right after our breakup, when he wasn’t showing up to class. It was a lot easier not thinking about him when I didn’t have to be in the same room with him twice a week.
Okay, maybe easier isn’t the right word. Not thinking about Adam is never easy, whether he’s two inches or two hundred miles away from me.
But if he kept skipping class, he wouldn’t pass. Which would mean he couldn’t play hockey. And no matter how hard it is for me to be close to him without being close to him—or how angry I am at him for the way things ended between us—I don’t want that. Adam doesn’t love hockey, he lives it. It’s as essential to him as breathing.
“I don’t understand why you don’t go up and talk to him,” Ian says.
It’s an argument we’ve had at least ten times in the past week and a half. And I give him the same answer I’ve given him every time before. “I told you, I tried reaching out to him. He didn’t answer any of my texts or phone calls.”
“So try again.”
“And have my heart crushed again? No thanks.” A guy can only take so much rejection.
“What if he doesn’t crush your heart?”
“What if he does?”
Ian points an accusatory finger at me. “No risk, no reward, my friend.”
I’m saved from continuing this pointless discussion by a commotion near the entrance of the bar. We both turn toward the door to see what all the fuss is about, and my jaw drops. Literally. My mouth is wide open, ready to catch flies, as my mother used to say. Or still says, for all I know.
I shake off that thought. I don’t have time to worry about what the woman I used to call Mom says or doesn’t say because what looks like half the Moo U hockey team is currently piling inside V and V. I spot Lex and Tate and Cal. Cooper follows them with—shut the front door. Is that Slags? In a gay-friendly bar? And is he smiling? I feel like I’ve entered an alternative universe. I guess that diversity training Coach made him attend is paying off.
Behind Slags is a dude I’m pretty sure is the goalie and a couple more guys whose names I’m too stunned to remember at the moment. Slags waves at me, making the alternative universe theory seem even more believable, and I numbly wave back. My shock doubles when the hostess leads them to the empty table up front.
“So they’re the VIPs,” Ian mutters. “I wonder what kind of strings your boyfriend had to pull to make that happen.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”Anymore.
“Hey, guys.” My not-of-legal-drinking-age sister appears at my other side with a glass of something that could be Sprite, could be vodka. My face must register my concern, because she scowls at me and smacks my arm, almost making me spill my water. “Don’t worry, big brother. It’s seltzer. The nonalcoholic variety.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I lie. She’s been in Vermont and away from all things Mormon for a few weeks. Who knows what secular habits she’s adopted? When I was her age, I had a fake ID and a preference for cinnamon whiskey, the cheaper the better.
“Sure you weren’t,” she singsongs.
My gaze flits around the bar. Now that the hockey team is occupying the VIP table, pretty much every seat is taken. “You should have gotten here earlier. Now you’re going to have to stand.”
“Oh, no, I’m not,” she says smugly.
“You know something I don’t?”
“Yeah.” She points to the hockey team, who are ordering drinks from an auburn-haired waitress I’ve heard sing on open-mic night once or twice. “Them. They’re saving a seat for me.”
As she says that, Cooper spots her and waves her over.
I frown at her. “You don’t even know them.”
“Yes, I do. I met Cooper when I was getting coffee at the Green Bean, and he introduced me to the rest of the guys.”
“Traitor.”
She gives me a condescending pat on the shoulder. “Not all things are as they seem, grasshopper.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see.”
She sashays over to their table—when did she learn how to walk like that?—and takes a seat between Cooper and Cal. Cooper puts his arm around her and whispers something in her ear, and my protective big-brother hackles start to rise.
