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Why the hell was Gavin’s smug confidence so hot? If any other guy talked to me the way he did, I’d lay them flat in seconds. But Gavin? I’d climbed into his lap, in broad daylight, and used him as my own personal sex toy.
I’d been in a foul mood since then, compounded by Carl sending me on some ridiculous research goose chase for his mystery project and my dad playing matchmaker. Thank God David had fixed my car the next day. Another casualty of suburban life, or in this case, the rabbits living in Gavin’s neighborhood. Apparently, the wires in my car were tasty. More importantly, I’d been able to drive myself to classes and practice and this game.
The line moved and I was finally able to place my order for hot cocoa with as much whipped cream as they could fit in the cup. If nothing else, the hit of chocolate would make me less likely to attack Gavin on sight. Or my date. I needed to remember I was there to support the boys and convince my dad’s choice I wasn’t the one he wanted.
I followed the signs for the seat number on my ticket, and my brows went up when I realized I’d be sitting in the first row rightnext to TU’s bench. Did they call it a bench in hockey? Damn, I needed to brush up if I was going to be doing this with any regularity.
The guys weren’t out on the ice yet, but the stands were filling up fast. I’d sent Michael a pic of his ticket, which included his seat number, but that was as far as I was willing to go. If he couldn’t find me, not my fault.
Music started to overtake the dull chatter of the crowd, and both hockey teams came onto the ice, skating in two big circles and taking shots at the goal. After a couple of minutes, they collected the pucks and started stretching. With nothing better to do and a lot of shit on my mind, I pulled out my phone and called Stephen. He’d at least get a kick out of this.
“Why does it look like you’re at a hockey rink?” Stephen gasped as I switched to the front camera so I could focus on my four roommates, fully geared and chatting on the ice near the goal. “Dear god, are those your roommates? You are such a lucky bitch. And stingy. Where are my shower pics?”
With a sigh, I flipped the camera back. “Can you be less creepy for five seconds?”
His brows drew down as he studied my face. “What’s wrong?”
I took a careful breath and smiled at him. “Nothing.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Oh no you don’t. That’s the bullshit smile you use to hide all your big emotions.”
“I’m not hiding. I’m processing.” Stephen already knew about the date since I’d texted him the minute my dad had sprung it on me, but he hadn’t heard the latest in the saga of Carl. “I finally got assigned something for my assistantship.”
“Why aren’t we more happy about this?”
“He wants me to do some vague research for a mobile A/B test group…” Stephen’s eyes started to glaze over so I summed up. “It’s busy work. He assigned me busy work. I wanted thisspot so I could learn and get some real projects under my name. It’s insulting at best.”
“So quit.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t quit. Besides, even if I do no work, this assistantship can still get me seen by one of the biggest tech companies in the world. As long as I don’t murder Carl before the end of the semester.”
Stephen pursed his lips. “Would this company make you happy?”
“It would make my parents happy—and hopefully shift their focus away from my marriage status and onto my work.”
He snorted. “You mean your status as an ice-cold player? Marriage is at least four levels away from your current booty call preferences. And I didn’t hear anything about the company fulfilling you.”
I sighed. “It doesn’t have to be fulfilling.”
Stephen shook his head. “I never thought I’d hear those words come out ofyourmouth. All summer, you couldn’t stop talking about Delacourt and how much you loved it there. You had a million ideas for how to help the business grow. I’ll bet a place like that doesn’t give a single shit about Carl Bennington and his assistants.”
“And my parents don’t give a single shit about Delacourt. If I want to convince them I’m more than an accessory, I need something impressive.”
Stephen leaned forward, giving me his serious face. “Making your parents proud isnotworth your happiness.”
My parents weren’t the real reason I wanted this job—my brother was. A fact Stephen probably suspected, but we’d never addressed. I didn’t voluntarily talk about Brendan, but tonight felt different.
Ifelt different. Without the bustling social life of my football crew, I felt… lost. Like I didn’t know who I was anymore.
Mac and the others were busy with practices and their relationships, and I was left on the outside. None of them outright excluded me—I was still a part of the group text—but I wasn’t the same as them. It was easy to push Brendan to the far reaches of my mind when I was surrounded by friends who needed help.
Less easy when Stephen was badgering me about my motivations. For once, Iwantedto talk about him.
I pursed my lips. “What about making Brendan proud?”
His gaze fell to his lap. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“He’d still be alive if it weren’t for me. Shouldn’t I make the most of his sacrifice?”
