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I look at Lenny again and tip my chin. "Turn around."

Pressing my tongue impatiently into the inside of my cheek, I wait as she looks at Dylan.

"He's not talking to me," she says easily.

My mouth purses before it quickly settles again.

Dylan holds up her hands. "See?"

I keep my eyes on Lenny.

"Okay," she drags out, spinning painfully slowly in front of her chair. Luckily—or not—her hair is short enough that it sits right above the information in question.

Fuck.

Right where Holloway should be spread across her back is a shorter, Italian, much-less-mine, much-more-my-best-friend's last name.

Rossi.

"Why are you wearing that?" I ask, my tone sharper than I mean for it to be as she twists back around.

"A jersey?"

My jaw ticks. "That jersey."

Any one but mine.

"Oh, it's my sister-in-law's," Lenny explains brightly as if my whole body isn't threatening to cave in. "I didn't have one for Golden City, obviously. So I swung by my brother's this morning and grabbed theirs."

"I got stuck with the six-foot-tall ex-hockey-playing-brother's if you couldn't tell," Dylan says.

Again, my mouth curls just slightly enough to be polite.

"Take it off," I say, as if it's a suggestion. My fists tense at my sides. "Please."

Lenny's face scrunches, her eyes searching mine like she's looking for answers. After a few stressful seconds, realization flashes. "Seriously, Jace."

She laughs.

I don't.

Her shoulders drop when she sees I'm not budging, then her eyes quickly wander the stadium. Lenny's cheeks flush as she tugs on the sleeve of the hoodie she's wearing underneath. "This was a gag gift from my sister three Christmases ago."

I stare at her blankly.

She pants out a breath, gaze flitting to Dylan. "I'm not wearing this for the next two hours."

My hands fly to my hat like they're looking for something to do other than reach forward and rip it off.

Probably because they are.

I lift it off my head, then settle it back down in the exact position.

Lenny takes my hint—my lack of words or ability to stand still—and exhales sharply.

She paints an awkward smile as she undoes each button running down the front of the jersey.

I wait impatiently, my heart still pumping, my toe tapping against the dirt, until she finally pulls it open.