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Again, none of it matters to me.
I just keep thinking about Mila.
There’s no way she meant it.
Saying she can never talk to me again?
No way.
I strip out of my hockey gear, take a shower, then take some medicine to help with the swelling and pain from the cut and stitches.
Once I’m dressed, I sit in the locker room and wait for the game to end.
I can at least show that much respect to my team.
I’m sure they’re all pissed at me.
I’m pissed at myself.
For letting someone like Mila get under my skin.
Under my skin? Fuck that. She’s… slammed into my head. My heart. My…
I pinch my nose and growl out loud.
How can I feel anything for someone that I haven’t fucked yet?
29
MILA
Someone holds up a ladle and nods at me.
“Please,” I say. “Watch this.”
I drop my cup into the large punchbowl and scoop up a full cup of foamy, red liquid.
I don’t know what the flavor is supposed to be, but all I taste is alcohol. All kinds of alcohol mixed together.
The drink is designed to mess things up as fast as possible.
Which is exactly what I’m looking for right now.
Hands slip around my body and pick me up for a second.
Ward lets out a barking dog sound.
“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re like this,” he says to me.
He puts me down and I turn to face him.
There’s no music playing in the kitchen but I start swaying my hips.
Thrusting at Ward. Grinding on Ward.
“What has gotten into you?” Ward asks. “I love it.”
“It’s college,” I say. “We have to party, right?”
