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Forgiving isn’t an adjective anyone would use to describe me, either.
I might act like she doesn’t exist, but I always notice her. Harlow Hayes and I share history.
Hunter and I exchange an amused glance. Neither of us is celibate by any stretch, but Aidan sees more ass than a public restroom’s toilet seat.
“Congrats on the win, Hart. If you’d passed to Powers at the start of the third, it would have been 5-2.”
I woke up in an alternate universe. It’s the only explanation.
“How was it?” I ask when she reaches me. “Huh?” She looks confused. I barely manage to tamp down the smirk that desperately wants to form. “The ugly raincoat competition you just came from. Did you win?”
“Well, I’m out. Other than that, it’s been all models and broken headboards.”
“Goddamn, Hart. Did you lose a wrestling match with a cougar?”
“I thought you stayed in last night,” Hunter says accusingly. “I did. I just wasn’t alone.” I pull a clean shirt out of my bag and quickly yank it on.
My number gets called and I go up to the cash register, pulling out my credit card. “It’s been paid for, miss. Have a good night.” The woman pushes the paper box with my dinner in it toward me.
CONOR: You seemed to remember my name just fine when you were screaming it an hour ago.
Hunter and Aidan are waiting by one of the benches outside the humanities building. I clutch my chest. “Aw, you two are so sweet to wait for me.” “Told you he’d be a dick about it,” Aidan tells Hunter.
I’m acting like a boyfriend, and she’s not my girlfriend. I just…wanted to see her. And it’s been less than two days. Fuck.
“Why? I thought you were friends with him.”
Conor mutters something that sounds like Not anymore.
“Because we’re on a fake date, Hayes. And if I play with Thomas, I can’t beat him.”
“Yeah, well, I started feeling a lot less friendly toward Thomas last night.”
“You’re probably the last person I ever thought would be promoting drinking and driving, Hayes. If you’re in my car, I’ll be stone fucking sober.”
“It’s good for Pierce to learn how to share,” I tell her. “He’s a puck hog on the ice too.”
“Wait.” She grabs my arm before I can take another step. “Before you send out a sweater search party…tell me why you’re upset.”
“Purely self-interest, Hayes. If you get hypothermia, I can’t fuck you.”
“Good, good. I’m Macon Gray. If you’re here, you probably already know that. Although…” He chuckles. “You might not. I’d like to dedicate this next song to the redhead who broke my heart earlier by falling for a hockey player and not waiting for me. Brains over brawn, baby.”
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Harlow asks. “Why? Do you want to carpool?”
But in my life, he’s the villain. He’s the asshole who blew up my mom’s life, then my life, then my mom’s again. My feelings for him have always been clear cut. Black and white.
“You can be friends with someone and not agree with everything they do.”
“Come on, Conor. What do you say?” “That Landon has terrible taste in women,” I reply honestly.
“I don’t have a heart to break.” He flashes me a cocky smirk—the one I hate. The arrogant I don’t give a shit expression. “I’ll text you about Friday.”
“That’s what you think of me, Landon? Forget Conor. You think I’d spent time with a guy who treated me that way?”
“Landon is going to be there.” “Makes sense. You won’t be home to play board games with.” “Conor.”
I glance at Conor, confused. “Uh, Black Friday?” Evan laughs. “Nah, Hart bringing a date. Never seen it happen before.”
“You’re hard to ignore, Hart.” “So are you, Hayes. You have to notice someone, to avoid them.”
Conor smirks, then stands and follows his coach. “Hard launch,” Aidan coughs.
“I thought, I have absolutely no game when this girl is involved. Because you were standing there, just looking at me, and I couldn’t think of a single fucking thing to say. And it had nothing to do with anything except you, Harlow.”
But there will always be a part of me living an alternate life. That wonders if your mom still plays Christmas carols at Thanksgiving and wishes that I’d been the one to buy you your first pair of skates.”
“Mess up all my plans, Harlow. Because I don’t want to be part of any plans unless they include you. I need you in my life, for anything to mean something. When I play in my first pro game, I want you to be behind the bench wearing my jersey. If you’re not, it’ll just be another hockey game.”
“You didn’t seem that…bothered.” Conor raises one eyebrow. “I punched a hole in my bedroom wall, Hayes.”
I’m not projecting that. Robby Sampson flat-out thanked me for “fixing Hart.” I guess Conor wasn’t exaggerating when he called himself a moody asshole.
