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It’s actually pretty funny that I even know what a left wing is now. My sister was the sports nut. I was always the artsy girl, taking drama, dance, and writing classes all through high school.
But now that I actually know the guys involved, I’m getting into it. I was genuinely pissed off and heartbroken when they lost the Stanley Cup. The referees were idiots.
“Hey,” my sister taps me on the shoulder, and gestures at me to follow her.
I almost trip over her dog, Puck. I kneel down and pet him, burying my face in his fur. Is there any better therapy than getting doggy kisses? Puck is the best. He loves everyone. He was even friendly to Nick, who responded with an indifferent pat and muttered about how he hates getting dog hair on his clothes.
So, yeah, Nick’s obviously not a keeper.
I can’t wait until I live somewhere where I can have a dog.
I kiss Puck’s head and stand up.
“Dogs are the best people. What’s up?” I ask Rowan.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” She gives Nick a wry look. “Is this true love, or what? Am I going to be an auntie soon? Need help planning the honeymoon?”
“Stop.” I elbow her.
“Seriously, though. He is not your type at all. Not in the slightest.”
“What is my type, then?” I challenge her.
“Non-douchey.”
“Well, ouch.” I give her an offended look. I’m not sure why I’m defending Nick, when Nick is basically the dictionary definition of a feminine cleansing product, but she’s putting me on the defensive.
She’s also wrong. If only she knew my dating history. I have very, very bad taste in men. Exhibit A: Professor Nass-Face.
She sighs. “I am trying really hard not to be the overprotective big sister here.”
I make a buzzer sound. “Survey says... that is a lie.”
“Okay, fine. Ruby, why him of all people? He’s managed to offend every single guy here. If he grabs you by the arm again, I am going to punch his lights out. He’s drunk and obnoxious. I’m sorry, Ruby, I mean, I know he’s pretty and all that, but I just don’t understand what you see in him. Is he really, really good in bed or something? I’ve got to say, he doesn’t look like he would be. Self-centered guys usually aren’t.”
I am taking a sip of my strawberry cooler when she says that, and I choke.
She waves her hand in the air, pacing the floor. “I mean, on the one hand I know you’re going to be a virgin forever. But the rational part of my mind has to acknowledge that’s probably not true.” I make a gurgling noise as I cough up my wine cooler. “Are you all right? Breathe.”
She thumps me on the back.
“Never do that to me again,” I wheeze.
“I make no promises. Learn to hold your liquor.”
I blink at her with watering eyes. “I am only twenty-one. I just haven’t had enough practice.”
She snorts at that. I’m mostly telling the truth. I did sneak the occasional drink before I turned twenty-one, but for the most part I was just like Nick described me—the proverbial good girl.
“That’s complete fucking bullshit!” Nick’s voice blares through the air, and he glares at Logan belligerently. “I’m telling you, the reason you guys lost the Stanley Cup is—”
Oh, God.
Can he even hear himself right now? I am never going to live this down.
“Nick,” I yell, before he can finish his sentence.
He looks around the room and gives me a bleary scowl. “What?” he demands.
