I actually laugh at that. “Of course, I would, but do I want to see his bulge when I’m having a bad day and it’s right in my face? No way,” I say, shaking my head again. I turn back to the professor, unable to look at his ridiculous face any longer. “I think some of us are forgetting that it’s not always the size that matters.”
* * *
Trying to nurse a hangover with your two best friends hovering around you as they very loudly tell you about their day is the worst thing in the world. I’ve been trying to get some peace and quiet in our apartment for the last hour since I came back early from campus. I thought that hiding in my room would work, but these girls will find a way to find me and annoy me.
I’m snuggled under my covers in sweatpants and a tank top, planning to hibernate for the rest of the day while I mentally prepare myself for having to meet up with Evan at some point to get started on our project. Just the thought of it makes me pull the covers around my head tighter.
Kennedy yanks them off my head, sitting beside Wren at the end of my bed.
“How was your day then, Scar-Scar?” Kennedy asks me, her whole face lighting up at the nickname she knows I hate.
“Great, until you two came in here,” I mutter, playing tug of war with Ken as she tries to pull the covers away from me. “You went out too last night. How are you not dead?”
She laughs, giving up on our fight. “Because I know how to handle my drink,” she says easily. I roll my eyes, jealous of her unique talent to constantly stay tipsy throughout the night and can only get drunk if she reallyreallytries to. I, however, don’t have that luck. And neither does Wren, which is why she stayed in with her boyfriend last night instead of coming out with us.
“You’re coming to the game today, by the way,” Wren says, her voice chipper as always as she stands off my bed, opening my closet.
“Am I?” I groan. I’ve gotten to the point where these girls make my decisions for me, and I just go along with them. I don’t mind it for the most part, but going to hockey games stresses me out more than I enjoy it. The NU Bears are notorious for causing fights and always having some sort of drama with either their own team or whoever they’re playing against.
“Yep,” she says, popping the ‘p’ as she reaches into my closet and pulls out the practice jersey that her boyfriend so generously gifted to Kennedy and I so we could represent their team at the games. She throws the shirt at me. “It’s only a friendly, but you know what Milesy’s like. Every game counts.”
“Fine,” I say, not wanting to argue over it. Wren’s face lights up when I agree, her cheeks turning the cutest shade of pink. If it means making her smile like that, I’d go to as many games as she wants me to. Plus, this also means I’ll won’t end up with a hundred texts from Miles asking why I didn’t go to one of his games.
Her smile twitches into a frown and I crook an eyebrow. “And, uh, I think Evan’s coming too. So, you know, prepare yourself.”
The minor – and I meanminor– excitement I had about going to the game completely dissipates. “Consider me prepared.”
Evan
You know it’s bad when your friend gives you a two hour notice before letting you know that the only seats left in the small stadium are the ones with your rival and her friends. I’m trying to be a better ‘friend’ to Miles and Xavier, and they’ve been complaining that I don’t go to their hockey games enough even though the season hasn’t started properly.
I don’t particularly like hockey games.
I don’t understand it and I don’t get why Greyson and Miles are constantly in and out of the penalty box like it’s a personal game between the two of them. They’re constantly fighting the other team, whilst Harry, the youngest one on the Bear’s team, stands with his head in his hands, embarrassed. At least it’s entertaining.
What they didn’t prepare me for was how fucking sexy Scarlett would look.
I’ve always been attracted to her – I mean, I have eyes and I’m not a complete idiot – but it’s always been her wonderful and complicated mind of hers that drew me in. But seeing her here in a NU Bear’s training jersey, a blue cap on her head and her ponytail threaded through the back as she rocks the sexiest fucking leggings I’ve ever seen.
“If you look any longer, she’s going to notice,” Kennedy whispers. I don’t think I fully register that Kennedy is sitting on one side of me while Wren, and Scarlett walking down the aisle to our seats until I hear her voice. I’ll be honest, Kennedy scares me sometimes. She’s always sneaking around, trying to push me and Scarlett into the same room, the same way she used to scheme to get Wren and Miles together before they started fully dating.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, turning to Kennedy. She narrows her brown eyes at me, and I notice the blue face paint she has on her cheek with Harry Butler’s number nineteen on it. Weird.
“Yeah, sure you don’t,” she mocks, “you know, you could just-”
“Shhh,” I say to her, cutting her off with a wave of my hand. “The game is starting.”
Her eyebrows pull together in confusion as she glances to the ice and then back to me. “It’s not.”
I turn away from her as she sulks, crossing her arms against her chest and turning back to the ice. I feel bad for cutting her off, but she’s up to something, or she knows something she shouldn’t. And that fucking terrifies me. I know how close those girls are and if she caught me staring at her, she’s going to think more of the very subtle looks I’ve been sending Scarlett.
She takes her seat next to me, her fresh and crisp smell reaching me. She doesn’t even look at me as she says, “Branson.”
“Scarlett,” I greet, smirking to myself. I feel her gaze on me as I turn my head away from hers. It was only a few hours ago when she tripped me up in class, wanting to make a fool of me and like the idiot I can be, I let her.
“It’s a pleasure as always,” she says.
“I wish I could say the same,” I murmur. I turn to her then, and I can see the way she’s biting her cheek, trying not to laugh or smile. “I bet you’re proud of yourself, huh?”
