She patted my hand on top of the too-small table. “It’s important to talk about him and remember him, you know.”
I stiffened and clenched the to-go cup, the cardboard collapsing slightly beneath my grip. Drawing in a breath, I tried to quell the irritation brewing in my gut.
“I know. I do.” I remembered him fine.
How he taught me how to skate; That he taught me how to shoot, how to deke, how to lift the puck; I remembered putting on his jersey and sprawling out on my parents’ bed to watch him play on TV.
And I remembered that the reason he was on that fucking helicopter was because he was trying to make it home for my hockey tournament.
When I arrived home a few minutes past five, Siobhan was in the kitchen, stirring something in a gigantic stainless pot on the stove. I wasn’t sure we even owned a pot that big, but maybe she’d brought it over. At this point, she was essentially our fourth roommate.
Siobhan glanced over as I came in the door. “Hey, stranger.” She took a spoonful of sauce and blew on it before she took a taste. Then she frowned and shook her head, snatching up a spice shaker from the granite counter. Whatever she was making smelled delicious, like garlic and Italian spices mixed with heaven.
“I miss one Saturday night, and you’re all acting like I defected to the other side in a war.” I opened the fridge and pulled an apple out of the produce drawer. “Where’s Ward?”
“He’s washing my car.”
Weird chore for him to take on, but sure. They’d been dating—or doing whatever they did—since May, and I stopped trying to make sense of their dynamic not long after. Shiv fed us a lot and was cool in general, so I couldn’t really complain.
“I’m making spaghetti,” she said. “It’ll be done in half an hour or so.”
“Nice.” I tossed the apple and caught it, lingering in the doorway to the kitchen. “Maybe you could give me some advice.”
“You’re right.” She stirred the sauce, then gave me a once-over. “That shirt and those pants don’t work.”
“Not that.” I glanced down at my jeans and black T-shirt. “But ouch. And good to know.”
“I was kidding. You live in jeans and tees, Carter. You’re safe from the fashion police. What was it?”
I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.
“Wait.” She set down the wooden spoon and narrowed her dark blue eyes. “Is this about that girl you’ve been talking to?”
Oh my god. How did everyone know?
“You know what?” I shook my head, backing out of the kitchen. “Never mind. I don’t even know what I’m asking, anyway.” I honestly didn’t. How to make someone text me? That was literally impossible. All I could do was wait, like I had been, while slowly going crazy…like I had been.
Not that I was into her as more than a friend.
A really hot friend.
Dammit.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t,” I grumbled.
She tilted her head, studying me. “You know, this is a good look on you. It’s pretty adorable.”
“What?”
“You’re smitten,” she said. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the guys.”
“No, I’m not.” I tore away from her gaze, sinking my teeth into the apple.
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”
After eating dinner with Dallas and Shiv, taking another shower, and wasting more time than I should have looking up sports stats, I reluctantly cracked open my laptop so I could work on my history paper. It wasn’t due for a month, which would normally mean I wouldn’t even look at it for roughly twenty-nine more days. But maybe scrambling at the last minute wasn’t an optimal strategy as far as my grades were concerned.
As soon as I opened Word, my phone lit up beside me. Lightning quick, I grabbed it. I should have ignored it and focused on the assignment, but maybe it was important.
Bailey: Hey, it’s Bailey.
Bailey: I never thanked you for taking care of me that night. You didn’t have to do that.
Chase: Well, I kind of did. But I didn’t mind.
Bailey: I’m sure you were happy to see that we lost again tonight.
Chase: Didn’t know, but ouch. The streak continues.
Bailey: You’re crushing us in the standings. Gonna need you to throw a couple games at this rate.
Chase: Sure, I have a price. It’s probably not even that high.
Bailey: I’m afraid to ask.
Chase: How are things? Any more weirdness?
Bailey: Eh, they’re so-so.
Chase: Well, you know who to call.
Bailey: Ghostbusters?
Chase: Or me. But maybe an exorcism would help break your losing streak.
Bailey: You’d better hope the tables don’t turn, chippy.
Chase: Don’t worry, they won’t.
I stared at my phone with a stupid grin plastered across my face. Maybe Shiv was right. Maybe I was smitten. But I had no idea what to do about it.
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 13
OceanofPDF.com
BETTER THAN YOU
Bailey
Wednesdays were the new Monday—the worst day of the week. Because Wednesdays meant that ASTR201 with Luke returned with a vengeance. There was no way I’d be lucky enough to avoid him again.
From the moment I woke up, a thick, black storm cloud of dread loomed over me. Even Zara and Noelle remarked that I seemed edgy in our Research Methods class. After parting ways with them, I headed over to The Dish for a late lunch I didn’t want to eat but knew I needed. I lingered over my chicken and brown rice bowl while time moved at warp speed, rocketing me closer and closer to astronomy.
Fueled by adrenaline, I speed-walked to class early and grabbed the same spot—off to the side at the back. Then I unpacked my things and prayed. With every minute that ticked by, my nerves climbed a little higher. I waited, jiggling my foot and tapping my pen against the desktop until someone sitting in front of me turned around and shot me a dirty look.
The clock hit two p.m. and Professor Walsh began his lecture on the properties of stars. Still no Luke. I heaved a sigh, muscles relaxing. I lucked out again—or so I thought. Two minutes after class started, he rushed in and found an empty seat near the front. As he did, he turned around, making eye contact before I could look away.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end for the entire lecture. I steadfastly focused on my notes and the slides at the front while I ignored Luke’s attempts to catch my eye. Class ended, and I quickly gathered up my pens and books, sliding them back into my bag with one big sweep of the arm. If I could get out fast, I could avoid him.
“Bailey,” Luke called. “Wait.” He scaled the steps two at a time, dodging other students in the aisle to reach me.
Worst-case scenario confirmed. The desperate need to escape seized me, and the dark cloud that had been with me all day morphed into a category-four hurricane of anger and panic. I speed-walked down the aisle, making a beeline for the doors at the back. Unfortunately, he beat me to the end of the row and was standing in wait when I got there.
“If I throw a stick, will you leave?” I asked, tone flat.
He glared at me. “I came over to say hi. What’s your problem?”