AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You?” I point a finger at her. “I can’t see you dancing for money.”
“It’s true. All of the sororities on campus are part of this dance competition at The Sixth Floor. Abby takes this shit seriously. She uses the pretense that the money goes to charity as an excuse to embarrass us all.”
Abby Gale is the president of Kappa Delta and the coldest most miserable bitch I’ve ever met. She puts Cece to shame, and that’s saying a lot.
“I’m sure she does.” I stuff the last of my sandwich into my mouth. “At least it’s for charity.”
“You know the Greeks.” She sighs. “We have a philanthropic quota to meet. We’ve won the award every year. Abby takes pride in that fact.” A quick pause passes between us before she adds, “When is your next home game?”
I smirk. “Why? You gonna come watch me play for once?”
She snorts. “I’ve seen you play before.”
“When?” I challenge.
“I saw you score against Penn State last year.”
My mind drifts back to that game, and I’m surprised she still remembers when I almost forgot. We barely won that game. The last second flick of my wrist saved our team.
Digging my elbows to the table, I lean forward. “You should come next weekend.”
She finishes off her cappuccino and sets the cup on the saucer with a loud clang. “I will if you come to watch me dance this weekend.”
I stretch my hand across the table, waiting for her to shake it. “Deal.”
“You’re a weird one, Jamie.” She shakes my hand. “But I like you.“
I like her, too. A lot, actually.
“Same,” I mutter.
Shannon pulls her hand back, and her gaze intensifies. I feel like this weekend was the first time I saw her, like really noticed her. How did she fly so far under my radar when she was right in front of me the entire time? Because I was too obsessed with Cece. She’s an addiction I’ve never been able to kick. From the moment I met Cece, I was done. But now… there’s hope. Maybe Shannon can help me move on from her.
“When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”
Her question takes me by surprise. “Umm… not sure. Why?”
“I want to cook for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” Smiling, she taps her long nails on the table. “By the looks of your house, I think your teammates could use a decent meal, too.”
I laugh. “What makes you say that?”
“Your living room was a wreck and had old beer bottles and bags of open Doritos on the table. It’s a full-blown bachelor pad.”
I do my best to keep the house from falling down and constantly have to clean up after everyone. Preston helps a lot, and his bitching at everyone all the time doesn’t hurt. We’re like the parents of the team. Kinda sad when I think about it.
“You sure you want to cook for my entire house? Do you have any idea how much food you will need to make?”
“I worked for a catering company in high school.” She winks at me. “I have an idea.”
“You really don’t have to do that, Shan. We can make do with what we have.”
“Jamie,” she groans. “I know you well enough to know that you’re going to pay for Jordan’s dress, even though it’s my responsibility. So, let me do this for you. Okay?”
“Fine,” I concede. “But let me buy the food.”
She frowns. “Fine. I’ll text you a list.”
“What are you making for us?”
She bites the inside of her cheek, thinking it over. “Do you like surprises?”
“I don’t dislike them.”
“Then it will be a surprise. Is Thursday night okay? I have to work first and then I can come over.”
“Yeah. We have hockey practice in the afternoon. Everyone should be home after that.”
“Good.” Shannon smiles so wide it reaches up to her green irises. “You can help me cook.”
The one thing I can’t do…
Chapter Four
Shannon
Kneading the dough in my hands, I consider the menu for Thursday. I still can’t believe I offered to cook dinner for half of the men’s ice hockey team. What was I thinking? Around Jamie, I find it hard to gather my thoughts. He makes my mind race to the point I can’t concentrate.
“How come you’re not using the stand mixer?” Mrs. Rizzo says from behind me.
“I like doing it by hand. It relaxes me.”
She steps next to me, taking a large handful of dough from the stainless steel bowl on the table in front of me. “My Antonio said the same thing. He’d stand here for hours listening to Italian folk songs while he made the bread.” Her gaze falls on me, and I can see the concern on her withered face. “What has you so worried, child?”
“Nothing… everything. I don’t know, Mrs. R. I have a lot going on at school. Between my coursework, my sorority, and the boy I like—”
