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Though it’s a waste of time to even try to figure it out. Players play, and they shamelessly flirt. I just need to put him out of my head. Which might be easier to do if I weren’t about to watch him play three periods of hockey.
I stifle a sigh and follow Mandi into the stands. She managed to score seats near the glass, and it’s freaking freezing down here.
“I wanted to be able to see Eli up close,” she explains.
“Why? We get free tickets to the hockey games because we’re students.”
“Yeah, but they aren’t as close,” she says, making a face. “Don’t worry about paying me back, though. The tickets are my treat.”
“Thanks.” I try not to sound ungrateful, but I don’t think I’ve succeeded. Mandi doesn’t seem to notice, however. Big surprise there.
I untie my black Oakmire U hoodie from around my waist and pull it on before I freeze to death. Flipping the hood up over my head, I settle into my seat.
Mandi looks in my direction and studies me with a critical eye.
“What?” I ask warily.
“Well,” she murmurs, chewing on her lower lip as she studies me. “It’s just...”
“It’s justwhat?”
“It’s just that I don’t know why you insist on dressing like this.” She makes a large, sweeping gesture toward me.
“I’m wearing jeans and a sweatshirt,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “What’s wrong with that?”
“There’s nothing very feminine about your outfits, that’s all. You wear a lot of black and gray, and your shirts are usually baggy. Even your sneakers are kind of boyish. I’ve never seen you wear a skirt, something bright, a dress, or even heels.”
Mandi, of course, is the epitome of feminine (or so she thinks) in her tight blue jeans, bright pink sweater, and knee-high black boots. Her hair is swept off to the side in a low ponytail. And her makeup, as usual, is impeccable.
“And your hair...” she murmurs.
“What is wrong with my hair?” I growl, narrowing my eyes. I’d quickly styled it in low pigtails earlier today because I’m not planning on washing it until tomorrow, and it was looking flat and lifeless.
I thought I looked kind of cute. Until Mandi had to go and open her big mouth.
“It’s just such a beautiful shade of blonde, Holland. It’s long and so pretty. I just think it’s a waste to wear it in a top knot all of the time. And have you ever thought about wearing contacts? You have lovely hazel eyes and hiding them behind those leopard-print glasses isn’t doing you any favors.”
“Let’s get something straight, okay? I’mnotyou,” I tell her, fighting to keep my voice even. “I don’t have any desire to wear pink 24 hours a day, okay? I like comfortable clothes, and contacts bug the shit out of my eyes. I don’t need or want a makeover.”
Instead of being offended, she just sighs. “I’m only saying this because I’m your friend. You have so much potential! I just think you’re wasting it.”
I bite down on my tongue and count to ten in my head to keep from screaming.
We are not friends. We won’t ever be friends. A friend wouldn’t make me feel as shitty as she just did.
The fact is, I don’t like wearing fitted clothes because I’m skinny, and I don’t want to draw attention to the fact that I don’t have much of a chest. And baggy shirts hide that fact.
The moment I open my mouth to give her another piece of my mind, the Oakmire hockey team comes out onto the ice. Mandi grabs my arm and squeals with excitement.
“Look, there’s Eli!” she cries. “Number 52! Oh my god, he’s so hot in his hockey outfit!”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not called an outfit,” I mutter, watching the players skate in a circle around the ice. Sheesh. They’re so fast that they make me dizzy.
“Whatever it’s called, he looks hot wearing it.”
“It’s called a jersey or sweater,” I say, looking it up on my phone. “Let’s see... their team colors are yellow and forest green, the same as the rest of Oakmire’s sports teams. Today they’re playing a school from central New York—Verdeer University.”
Mandi, who hasn’t listened to a thing I’ve said, stands and begins jumping up and down, waving her arms like a lunatic. “Eli! Eli, over here! Helloooooo!”
