Page 10 of Until the Last Star Fades

“No, we’re discussing North Dakota.”

“Piper—”

“That’s Josh, right? Calling again? He’s so predictable, so annoying.”

“He feels bad,” said Riley. “I barely saw him. All he did was eat, sleep, hockey—repeat.”

“Like I said, predictable…and annoying. At least you got something out of it—God, I miss sex.”

“We only did it twice.”

“But he made sure you came, right?” asked Piper.

“Pip…!”

“So, that’s a no, then—”

“He had early morning practices.”

“Like that’s an excuse for ignoring your needs. Did you go with him?”

Riley shook her head. “His coach has a girlfriend ban before a big tournament. He thinks the players won’t sleep, so I couldn’t show up.” She tortured the block of cheese, pressing it hard against the grater’s metal spikes. “It’s my fault. I should’ve visited another time.”

“Wait, wait—everything you’re saying is total crap AND grounds for dumping.” Piper set down her drink and counted on her fingers. “Selfishness between the sheets, hiding you away from the world, putting a stupid sport ahead of you? That’s three strikes—you’re OUT!”

“Wrong sport, Pip.”

“Oh, whatever!” Her voice spiked. “You ignored what we discussed, so what was the point of going to North Dakota? To be ignored? Better get used to it, Rye. PuckHead loves his hockey stick more than he loves you—fact.”

“Please, dramatic much?” Riley laughed, sprinkling cheese on the potato chips. Piper always went way over the top with digs at Josh. “He needs to focus on playing well so the Wild’s scouts—”

“Rye, stop it.”

“What?”

“Stop making excuses, convincing yourself you’re happy with him. You did the same thing at Christmas.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Hello? Last fall? After every FaceTime call? You’d complain—‘Josh doesn’t listen, Josh changes the subject when I mention LA’—Every. Single. Time. Then he came home for Christmas, and I don’t know what magic he worked on you, but you babbled on about how amazing he was, walking shelter dogs with you, going skating—”

“Things were good at Christmas. He was like old Josh—”

“Yeah, but most of the time he’s new Josh: self-absorbed, pushy, and increasingly arrogant. You finally clued in after winter break. All the doubts—”

“Piper—”

“You said nothing had changed—Josh hadn’t changed. God, the earache you gave me! I was so relieved when you said you’d dump him on spring break.”

“I never said I’d dump him.” Riley yanked a spoon from a glass stuffed with cutlery.

“Not in so many words—”

“No, what I said was, I might suggest we take a break.”

“Whatever. The reason’s the same: you’re not happy with him.”

“Not all the time, no, but I think that’s normal.” Riley cracked open the salsa and swirled the spoon around the half-empty jar.