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Shoving my phone into my pocket, I give her a bewildered look. “Why the hell would you do that, Mandi?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say mockingly. “Maybe because it makes you look desperate? Didn’t we just have this conversation? It’s like you banging on the glass all over again. You don’t even reallyknowEli. You’ve had coffee with him once, and it wasn’t exactly a date. Back off a bit.”
Mandi tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I think you’re wrong, Holland. I think he’d appreciate that I’m making an effort. I told you, he likes me. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to make him my boyfriend.”
“Do whatever you want. But I think you’re making a mistake.”
When the side door opens and a few players come out, Mandi races back over to the group of girls she was hanging out with, putting an end to our conversation.
For the next ten minutes, I pass the time surfing the internet on my phone, doing more research for my World History paper. I’m in the middle of bookmarking a site about Viking history when I catch the sharp smell of mint in the air, and a shadow descends over me.
“I thought you didn’t like sports?”
I glance up into the always-amused brown eyes of Eli Donnelley. He’s wearing a black suit, silver tie, and a long black coat. For a few seconds, I don’t do anything but stare at him before I find my tongue. He looks like he fell off the cover ofGQ.
“I don’t.”
Mandi stands next to him wearing a bright smile, her arm hooked through his. “I dragged her out tonight,” she tells him. “I told her we simply had to see you play.”
It occurs to me that I wasn’t wrong in my original assessment. They really do look like the prom king and queen.
“Nice suit,” I say, cocking an eyebrow. “Why are you all dressed up?”
“Thanks. It’s a requirement. I’d give anything for jeans and a t-shirt right now.”
“You look so handsome,” Mandi says, smiling up at him. “Doesn’t he look great, Holland?”
“Congratulations on the win,” I tell him, ignoring Mandi as I stand and brush off my jeans. “And the goal.”
“Thank you.”
“You were soooo good out there,” Mandi adds, snuggling closer to him. “It was so exciting!”
Eli glances at her briefly and flashes a smile, then turns his attention back to me. “We’re heading over to Sal’s. You want to come with us?”
“And third wheel?” I shove my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie. “No thanks.”
“We’re not on a date,” he says easily. “I’m meeting some of the team over there.”
Mandi’s smile falters slightly, but a second later she dials it up another notch and nods her head. “You have to come with us, Holland.”
“Yeah, Holland, you have to,” Eli says, his brown eyes dancing with amusement. Then he gives me a genuine smile. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Somehow, I doubt that. Being in a packed college hangout with Eli, Mandi, and a bunch of hockey players seems more like a nightmare to me. But I’m starving, and a burger and fries sounds really good right about now. And maybe a big chocolate shake.
My stomach makes the decision for me.
“Okay, okay. I’m in. Let’s go.”
* * *
Sal’s is a huge, airy diner that is a weird, eccentric mix of 50s decor and 80s music. The booths are baby blue and shiny silver, and the front counter runs the entire length of the restaurant, with blue and silver stools for seating.
It’s jam-packed when we walk in, but I spy an empty booth off to the left. Breathing a sigh of relief, I hurry toward it to get a five-second breather from my roommate.
Mandi babbled non-stop about how talented Eli is during the entire ten-minute walk over here. It took everything in me not to kick her in the shins for acting so desperate. Eli, to his credit, took it in stride and didn’t seem all that annoyed by her motormouth.
