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“You’ve been quiet,” said Lola, and glanced at my plate. “Something wrong with your salad?”
“Just tired,” I said. “Been pulling some late ones.”
“I know! When’d you leave last night? Oh, that reminds me—” She launched into another tall tale from romance land. I stared at my bland plate and tuned her out. She’d found the one for her, and yeah, that was great, but why hadn’t Spencer wanted to come? I’d showed him those tickets and his eyes had glazed over, all blank and stunned like a deer in headlights. You’d have thought I’d asked him to help me scrape roadkill.
“I know,” said Cherie. “You know what you do? Say you love something about him and see how he takes it. If he kind of glows, he’s ready for ‘I love you.’”
Maybe Spencer was stressed, with the stakes mounting up. The season was kicking into high gear, heading for the playoffs and the Stanley Cup. The Ice Bears had a shot this year, and it all hung on Spencer. Maybe he’d needed sleep, a night to himself. But if that was the problem, he could’ve just told me. He would have six weeks ago, before we hooked up.
“I don’t know,” said Lola. “It’s soon for ‘I love you.’ But maybe, I don’t know, the way things are going…”
Had we fucked up our friendship? Put walls up between us? Things we couldn’t be honest about, now we were… what were we? We’d said friends with benefits, but were we still friends? My stomach rolled over. We couldn’t be not friends. Spencer was my oldest friend, apart from Leon, and Spencer and I had more in common. He was the one I went to when I needed to kvetch. The one I thought of when I heard a good joke. Got to tell this to Spencer. He’ll laugh his ass off.
“Hello? Earth to Izzy?” Lola was waving her fork in my face. I blinked twice and snapped back to the present. She’d asked me a question. I’d heard it, but?—
“The pool,” said Lola. “The Stanley Cup pool. Cherie was asking if you’re betting on Spencer.”
“Of course. He’s my best friend. I’ll always back Spencer.”
“Your best friend. You’re so lucky.” Cherie’s voice had gone dreamy. “Most hockey players, I’d take them or leave them. They’re athletes, and that’s hot, but they’re kinda scruffy. A lot of them are hairy, or they’re missing their teeth. Not Spencer Nash, though. He’s got them all, right?”
“What, his teeth?” I laughed. “Not that I’ve counted, but yeah. He’s got teeth.”
“And you two are roommates. Have you ever been tempted?”
I nearly choked on my salad. “What, me and Spencer?”
“I would be,” said Lola. “Not now, I mean. But if you’d asked me two months ago, I’d have been like, hell yeah.”
I rolled my eyes, hoping I looked nonchalant. “I’ve known him since college. I’ve seen him throw up.”
“Ew, c’mon, we’re eating.” Lola reached for her drink. “But, you know what I noticed?”
Cherie frowned. “What?”
“She isn’t saying she hasn’t been tempted.”
“Which means she has.” Cherie grinned. “Maybe even?—”
“O-kay.” I shoved my chair back and halfway stood up. “How much do I owe for this?”
“Aw, don’t get mad. Come on, don’t go.” Lola grabbed for my sleeve, but I waved her away.
“I’m not mad, don’t worry. I just have to get back.”
I fled the café to a chorus of protests, but I wasn’t kidding. I had to get back. I had work to my eyeballs, a thing with the douchebros. I’d promised to walk them through the LEED platinum guidelines, and how we could meet them and still stay on budget. The client would love us, and Stern would too. The Harbisons, even — and all thanks to me. And why hadn’t Spencer come to that concert? He hadn’t seemed busy that night, so why not?
Why not?
I texted Leon from the store on my way home from work: Getting snacks for the game. Want anything special?
He texted back SHIT!, and I stood frowning, pretzels in one hand, my phone in the other. Three more texts popped up in quick succession.
Not going to make it
Stuck at work
Idiot Steve lost his idiot dog so it’s only me in charge of the kitchen
