Page 12 of Unforgettable Player

There’s a text waiting from Brad when I get to my car.

Party at Chase’s house

Do I really want to go to a party with a bunch of guys I know from high school? The same guys who have been watching my progress with beady eyes? Some of them probably waiting for me to fail? No. But if I’m not there, will they talk behind my back? Probably. I decide it’s better to show my face and act like everything’s going to plan instead of letting them write the narrative in my absence.

I’m in my sweaty clothes and turning up in Harvard Hockey gear when I don’t even play on the team anymore is kind of sad, so I go home to change first.

I plan to just slip in and take a quick shower, but Mom has other plans—of course. The second I’m downstairs and dressed for the party, she’s guilting me into staying for dinner.

“Let him go,” Scout says as she walks in, Elliot trailing behind her.

I’m hit again by how good he looks. He isn’t wearing his glasses and his face looks naked. Without the glasses, those great cheekbones have a chance to shine. And I can’t help but be drawn to the plumpness of his lips. I catch myself and look away. It doesn’t matter. So what if he’s hot? Lots of people are hot, I don’t have to drool over them all. I have self-control.

“Hey, Elliot.”

He blinks at me, his eyes a pretty, dark brown.

“Hi,” he says, a second too late. His cheeks bloom with color.

I turn to Mom. “I told Brad I’d be at his house a half hour ago.”

“Aww, are you two finally dating?” Scout asks.

After noting Mom’s lack of reaction to that comment, I ruffle Scout’s hair. She actually growls at me and snaps her teeth at my hand.

Mom shakes her head. “You’re like a feral animal sometimes, Scout, I swear.”

If she’d kept at it, Scout would have been awesome at hockey, she’s ruthless enough. Though she’d probably spend most of the game in the penalty box.

“You should eat something before you drink,” Dad says.

“Line your stomach,” Mom agrees with a nod.

I sigh. “Sure, I’ll stay for dinner.”

It’ll be a good opportunity to desensitize myself around Elliot’s new hotness. Or is it new?

I try to act natural around him, but every ‘natural’ thing I might have done with him before feels inappropriate. Like ruffle his hair or rest my hand on the back of his chair.

I settle for making conversation about what music and movies he’s into these days. Scout is her usual self, butting in every five seconds to insult me. It should help make things normal again, but for some reason, her interruptions get on my nerves.

“Before you ask, no he hasn’t heard the new ‘banging house album.’”

“Neither have I. And what’s wrong with house music?”

She snorts and shakes her head.

“Are you still doing those Russian language lessons?” I ask Elliot.

He blushes. “No.”

“What was that for, again?”

“My Dostoyevsky dissertation. I don’t think I’ll get much chance to use it unless I join the U.N. or something, so I dropped it in favor or French.”

“You’re not writing a dissertation yet, though, right?”

“No, but the sooner I start doing research, the better it’ll be.”