Working methodically through the list of ten questions I’d written—because Liam hadn’t done that, either—I tried to be as professional as possible. How did he start playing hockey? When did he know he wanted to play at the college level? Who were his role models? What did he intend to pursue after graduation? I took scrupulous, detailed notes to eliminate any possibility that I would have to contact him again for clarification or follow-up.
While I’d planned to keep our meeting brief, Paul was more than happy to talk about himself. Or rather, to drone on about himself. He kept spiraling off on unrelated tangents while I desperately tried to harness my interviewing skills and wrangle him back on course.
Paul was thirstier for the spotlight than I’d realized, and apparently, he viewed this temporary Luke-free window as his time to shine. Seemed like Chase had done him a favor.
Twenty-five painful minutes later, which was ten longer than I’d intended to spend with him, he concluded a long-winded tale about hockey training camp last summer. Or last spring. I didn’t know; I’d tuned out. I glanced down, cross-referencing my notes with my list of questions and praying I hadn’t missed anything. I was ready to end this nightmare of an interview.
“Okay, I think that covers everything.” Standing, I pushed my chair back and closed my silver laptop. The massive tension I’d been holding in my shoulders eased as I gathered my things. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“By the way.” Paul leaned back in his chair, leisurely crossing an ankle over his knee. “I have a funny story for you.”
I paused and glanced back up at him, bracing myself for another boring, self-promoting tale.
“My cousin is a server at O’Connor’s, and she knows your boyfriend—you know, because he fucked one of her friends.”
My stomach lurched, and I stifled a flinch, wishing more than anything that I could un-hear the information. Why had no one yet invented brain bleach to erase disturbing pieces of information like that? I didn’t want to know, didn’t need to know, didn’t want to think about it.
He continued, “Anyway, she said some blond chick was all over Carter when he was there recently.”
Thoughts spun in my mind, rotating faster than an F5 tornado.
First, Paul’s comment about his cousin’s friend had been wholly unnecessary. In theory, the past didn’t matter. But that didn’t mean I liked being slapped in the face with it—particularly when I had just slept with him and was feeling extra vulnerable as a result. It wasn’t that I judged Chase’s past; it was that I was scared of becoming part of it.
Then there was this girl who was supposedly all over him recently. What was that about? When was the last time Chase had even been at O’Connor’s? Had he lied to me about where he was one night?
It was like being shot twice with one bullet.
Then again, Paul could be lying. Especially about the second part.
“Huh,” I said. “Sounds like a misunderstanding.” I tried to keep my voice steady, expression neutral.
“Doubtful.” Paul smirked. “She was sitting in his lap.”
Oh, so he had corroborating details. A sickening sense of déjà vu crashed over me. With Luke, I always heard it from someone else, always long after the fact, always with specifics to back it up. And he’d always deny it.
But Chase wasn’t Luke. He was nothing like Luke.
At least, that’s what I thought.
“I don’t believe that.” Shoving my laptop into my bag, I intentionally avoided Paul’s prying gaze. I drew in a breath, trying to slow my speeding pulse.
Triggered would be putting it mildly. He’d hit me right where it hurt, like a sucker punch to the heart.
Paul shrugged. “Go ask my cousin. Tell her I sent you. Why would I lie? I might think Carter is an asshole, but I have no issue with you.”
“Right.” I zipped up my black leather shoulder bag, meeting his gaze evenly. Barely concealed triumph was etched in every line on his face. “I’m sure you’re looking out for my best interests.”
“Just thought you should know.”
“That’s cute,” I said. “You were always more than happy to cover for Luke. Now you’re pretending to be Mr. Honesty and Transparency?”
Paul had lied and provided alibis for Luke countless times. Of course, I hadn’t known until Mendez got wasted last New Year’s and basically confessed to being part of a three-person conspiracy that excluded my brother. But I never sold Mendez out, which meant I knew more than Paul or Luke even realized.
I knew more than Amelia did too—but people liked to shoot the messenger, and I didn’t want to take that bullet. She preferred to exist in a state of intentional ignorance, anyway.
As for taking Luke back after that, I obviously had poor judgment. Maybe I still did.
Had I made the same mistake twice?
Paul’s expression hardened, dark blue eyes taking on a malicious gleam. “All I’m saying is that if you’re determined to be a puck bunny, there are probably better options.”
“Excuse me?”
“Going straight from being Morrison’s girlfriend to Carter’s girlfriend is a bad look, don’t you think?”
Asshole.
I glared at him, scrambling inwardly for something to say but coming up woefully empty-handed. Chase would have had something cutting and witty to fire back. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as quick on my toes when it came to offering up retorts on the fly.
Especially when my brain was imploding.
“You can save your fake concern,” I said. “As for the article, I’ve got all I need.” Throwing my bag on my shoulder, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the coffee shop, narrowly missing two people standing near the door who threw themselves out of my way as I approached.
For the sake of my position with the paper and my portfolio, I would write the article diplomatically, even if I wanted to shred Paul and his bloated ego to pieces, word by word, paragraph by paragraph. Complete with a headline that read something like, “Assistant Captain with Inferiority Complex Revels in Captain’s Absence.”
The title had a nice ring to it. Obviously, I couldn’t publish that. But I might write it anyway for my own petty enjoyment.
Continuing my brisk pace, I sped down the tiled hallway and pushed open the glass door, exiting the student commons. Fresh, crisp air washed over me, and I sucked in a breath, but it didn’t quell the nausea in my gut. And, of course, I’d forgotten my half-full coffee on the table. Clearly, even the smallest things would go wrong today.
I had planned to go to the Callingwood Daily office, but I couldn’t face Zara and Noelle. My stomach was in my throat, and my hands were shaking—they would know something was up the instant they saw me, and I was in no condition to discuss the interview from hell. Instead, I turned right and cut across the quad, heading to the library to hide at a table somewhere deep in the stacks.
As I walked, I tried to see things objectively. Paul’s intentions weren’t sincere. That was a given. He was probably trying to mess with Chase by messing with me. But despite that, a small part of me wondered if what he said was true. If Chase had been flirting with some girl…or worse. I didn’t want it to be true, and I wanted to rule it out, but I’d been wrong about these things before.