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Even though she’s right and I should come clean, I mumble, “I don’t have a crush on him. We’re just friends. That’s it.” It’s hard to admit the truth—even to yourself—when you’ve spent years tamping down the emotion and pretending it doesn’t exist.
Brooke spears me with a pitying look. “Oh, Sash. That’s so sad.”
My shoulders collapse under the weight of her disappointment.
Secretly, I can’t help but agree. It is sad. Pathetic, even.
“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”
Is she legit crazy?
“And ruin our friendship?” I blurt before I can stop myself. “Hard pass. Plus, he doesn’t see me that way.” He never has.
“How do you know? Have you ever asked?”
“Of course not,” I mutter, desperate to change the subject. “Easton doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend. His best friend. And I love having him in my life. I would never do anything to jeopardize our relationship.”
Just as she opens her mouth to bombard me with more questions, a muscular arm is thrown over my shoulders and I’m hauled against a hard body. Even before his masculine scent can inundate my senses, I know exactly who I’ve been crushed against. And yes...it takes every ounce of self-control to resist burrowing against his comforting strength.
That’s when I realize Brooke is right. I need to stop lying to myself. It’s not helping the situation.
“Hey.” He drops a careless kiss against the top of my head. “What are you two talking about?”
My face flames as the edges of Brooke’s lips quirk with mischief.
I swear, if she takes matters into her own hands and lets the cat out of the bag, I’ll kill her. I’m not even kidding. Brooke McAdams will end up being nothing more than a senseless statistic, and I’ll walk away with zero regrets.
I shoot her a narrowed look that promises retribution.
“I’m trying to convince Sasha that she should go out with my cousin.” She beams at him with an expression full of faux innocence. “Don’t you think they’d be perfect for each other?”
He stares at her for a long moment. “Are you talking about Ryder?”
“Yup. That’s the one.”
His easy-going manner falls away as he frowns. “Actually, I think that’s a shit idea.”
“Oh?” She perks up like a bloodhound who’s picked up a scent. “And why would that be?”
“Because he’s a hockey player.” He gives her a sharp look. “You know how those guys are.”
Her expression turns icy. “Actually, I do. Kind of like the football players?”
Easton has the good grace to wince. “Yeah, I guess so,” he mumbles, aware of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding her breakup.
“Anyway,” she says before the moment can turn awkward, “Sash needs to get back into the dating game. It’s been a while since her last,” she pauses, and I’m almost afraid ‘hookup’ will shoot out of her mouth, “boyfriend. Maybe you can help convince her that she needs to sweep out the cobwebs every once in a while.”
Oh my god. Please tell me she did not just say that.
If only the sidewalk would open up and swallow me whole. Let’s hope a mental image hasn’t come to his mind of what that would actually look like.
Easton’s brows pinch together as he eyes me with a frown. “If you’re looking for a guy, there are some nice ones in my English class. I could check with a couple of them and see if they’re interested.” Before I can formulate a response, he continues, “But stay away from the hockey players.” There’s a pause. “And the football players. You know what? Just stay away from the athletes in general. Then we won’t have any problems.”
Is he really trying to fix me up with other guys?
Even though I steel myself against the onslaught, a tidal wave of heartache crashes over me. If I’d been secretly holding out hope that Easton might feel something romantic toward me, it’s clear from this five-minute convo that’s not the case.
When I remain silent, he reiterates for a second time, “Just do me a favor and steer clear of Ryder.” He glances in Brooke’s direction. “You don’t need to worry about Sasha’s dating life. She’ll get out there when she’s good and ready.”
Before Brooke can react, he says, “All right, I gotta take off.” His gaze cuts back to mine. “You want to grab lunch later?”
Under normal circumstances, I’m always happy to spend time with Easton. After this enlightening discussion, however, I’m going to take a pass.
“No, sorry.” I make up an excuse on the fly. “I need to meet with one of my professors about an assignment.”
He shrugs as if it doesn’t matter to him one way or the other.
It’s yet another nail in the coffin.
“All right. I’ll text you later.” With a quick wave, he disappears through the crowd of students moving across campus.
Always one to strike when the iron is hot, Brooke clears her throat. “So, about Ry—”
