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I snort. “Absenteefriend would be more accurate.”
Conor sighs. “I’m sorry the trip to Colorado sucked, okay? And I know I’ve been spending a lot of time with Harlow lately—”
“Which is fine,” Hunter interrupts, frowning at me.
Great. Now I feel guilty.
Harlow stole all of Conor’s attention that wasn’t attached to hockey long before they officially started dating.
But Hunter is right—Conor’s happiness is nothing I should be criticizing him for. What I should be doing is explaining to my two best friends why I’m in such a shitty, short mood lately.
Except it’s not a conversation I’m ready to have. And if anyone gets that, I think Conor might.
Up until a couple of weeks ago, he’d never mentioned his own father or that they’re estranged. Maybe one day we can commiserate over our crappy dads, but today isn’t that day for me.
“I’m glad you and Harlow worked things out,” I tell Conor. “Really. I was the one telling you to fix it with her, remember?Just…don’t dip in because you’re worried about me flunking. Coach set up the thing with his daughter. It’ll be fine.”
Conor’s gaze sharpens. “What thing with Coach’s daughter?”
I glance at Hunter, who’s focused on tying his sneakers. Fuck, I should have known he’d be sparing with details. Of the three of us, Morgan is by far the least chatty. And he probably felt guilty telling Conor anything at all when I’d asked him to keep it to himself.
“She’s my tutor,” I say, yanking on my sweatshirt.
“Hisdaughter? Coach has a daughter, and she goes to Holt?” Conor sounds torn between surprise and suspicion that I’m making this all up.
“Apparently. He set it up.”
“And she’s tutoring you.”
“Yep.”
“Don’t even think about—”
I know exactly where he’s going with this. “I’m capable of keeping my dick in my pants, Hart.”
“News to me,” Hunter mutters.
Not my fault he’s usually home when girls come looking for me, whereas Hart is always out.
It’s common knowledge on campus where the three of us live. It’s not like I’m handing out my home address after every hookup.
“If you say so.” Conor also sounds dubious.
“I won’t touch her.”
I might be generally unreliable, but they can trust me on this.
I’ve never hooked up with a freshman. Certainly not a math nerd.
And even if she was neither of those things, she’s Coach Keller’s daughter.
In other words, off-limits.
CHAPTER FOUR
RYLAN
The annoyingly cheerful chime of my alarm wakes me up.
