A nervous chuckle slips from the back of my throat. “Nobody.”
She blinks.
I blink back.
She blinks again.“Liar.”
“I’m not ly—”
“So you just left at three a.m. to, what?Walk around?”
“Yes,”I reply defensively, but Cleo isn’t buying it. She spins around on her stool, eyes locking with mine. “You know I’ve given up on all that relationship shit.”
“So, you were alone the whole time?”
Fuck.
“AHA!” She jabs a thick finger in my direction, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Youwerewith someone!”
“No! Well,yes,but—”
“Who?”
“It’s not like that, Cleo. I didn’t—” And she’s not listening.Great.
“Darcy.” She levels me with a look, and an irritated huff escapes me.
I know she’s not going to let up. Not until I give her a crumb of information to chew on. So, I throw myself onto the couch with all the drama I can muster, pulling a blanket over my burning, freezing toes.
“I didn’t sneak out to see anyone,” I repeat firmly. She leans forward, perched on the edge of her seat. “But I did bump into the women’s hockey captain.”
“Peyton Clarke?”Cleo’s brows shoot up, silver irises swirling as her plush lips fall open.
I nod, exhaling a steadying breath. It feels like I’m standing in a confessional booth, about to admit my sins.Forgive me, Father, for I have snuck into the Greenrock University ice rink and argued with a cocky bitch who has a stellar wolf-cut and smells of sweat and lavender.
Before I can finish, Cleo jumps in again. “Oh, you donotwant to go there.” She laughs warningly.
My brows drop. “What?No! I wasn’t—”
She doesn’t let up. “I mean, she’s totally nice and everything, but she’swaytoo focused on hockey for anything serious. Especially with her dad.”
The cackle that bursts out of me is almost malicious. I shake my head, running my hand through my un-brushed hair, fingers catching on the tangles.
I learned a lot about Peyton Clarke in the short time we spent together. First, she’s arrogant as hell. Second, she smells way too good for someone who had just been practicing. And third?
“She isnotnice.”
Cleo purses her lips. “Hate to break it to you, Darce,” she says, hopping off her stool. “But you’re not exactly the best judge of that.”
I frown, even though I know she’s right. I haven’t been the warmest person since I came back to Seattle, but that’s kind of the point. People don’t get close to cold people. Well, except for Cleo, apparently.
“Wait… herdad?” I ask, the words finally clicking in my brain. Cleo’s head tilts in surprise.
“You don’t know?” she asks.
I pull the blanket tighter around me, scrunching my toes in an attempt to boost my circulation. “Know what?”
A sly grin breaks across her face. “Does the nameHarrison Clarkering a bell?”
