Didn’t even miss a beat.
But who could he have moved on with so quickly? Then it hit me…Sophie. Sophie Crier. I’d been suspicious about all those late nights since the beginning of the semester when they’d been “working on their marketing group project.” When I confronted him, though, Luke made me feel like a crazy, jealous girlfriend. But this explained everything, including his sudden about-face.
“Bailey?” Zara said. “Earth to Bailey?”
I stared at the screen, the display blurring. “Hold on a sec.”
Denial creeped in, tempting me like a siren’s call. Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe The Sideline fabricated the story like they were sometimes known to do. It had to be fake, right? Luke would never do that to me. At least, not again.
I took a screenshot and sent it to Luke.
Bailey: Care to comment?
Three gray dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared. Disappeared…and didn’t return. Five minutes later, I was on the dance floor with the girls when my phone vibrated.
Luke: It’s not what it sounds like.
Which meant it was exactly what it sounded like.
Two could play at that game. But first, I was getting another drink.
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 5
OceanofPDF.com
SURE, LET’S CALL IT THAT
Chase
Status update: I still hated clubs. So far, I was seriously underwhelmed by this XS joint. It was cramped and humid, and the DJ sucked. The beers were ridiculously overpriced too. Fifteen bucks for domestic? Fuck off.
Of course, I was here because we’d pulled off a shutout against the Bulldogs. That did take the edge off my current level of irritation. Seeing the look of defeat on Callingwood’s faces as they left the ice was damn near priceless. Suckers.
But the only interesting thing that had happened since we arrived was meeting that feisty blond chick from their school. That didn’t pan out, but I had other options. It was time to call it. I was too sober for this scene.
“You played amazing tonight,” the short brunette next to me said, batting her eyelashes. Her name was Morgan. Or maybe Meghan. I hadn’t caught it over the loud music, and I didn’t particularly care.
“You a big hockey fan?” I asked.
I was sure she knew next to nothing about hockey. She probably wasn’t even at the arena earlier. But my game was on point tonight, so in this case she’d guessed correctly.
She nodded. “Love it.”
“Tonight was tough, huh? Thought we were headed into extra innings,” I said. “It was close until we got that last touchdown.”
“Totally.” She made a pouty face. “I’m so glad you won.”
See? She didn’t know shit about hockey.
And people think I’m the superficial one.
Squaring her shoulders, she stuck out her chest to draw attention to her plunging lace V-neck dress and the plump cleavage it contained.“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”
She was wearing entirely too much makeup, which would probably rub off all over my sheets later. But she was cute enough, and she seemed like she’d be enthusiastic in the sack so why not?
“Uh, yeah. Hang on.” I looked over her shoulder for Dallas and Tyler but couldn’t find them in the crowd. Whatever, I was leaving with or without them.
Morgan/Meghan stroked my arm with her long, pointy red nails. “Sure.” Her hands were fucking freezing. I hoped they’d warm up before they got to my junk.
Before I could open my mouth to say anything further, a soft, warm hand landed on my other forearm.
“There you are.” The voice was sugar sweet.
I glanced to my left, discovering my failed pickup attempt from earlier. Long, honey-colored hair, a smattering of freckles along her nose, and eyes that were this crazy hazel-green that I couldn’t even begin to describe.
Callingwood.
Our eyes locked and she tilted her head. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She tucked a lock of caramel blond hair behind her ear and gave me a familiar smile, like we knew each other well. Like we hadn’t just met.
Morgan stepped aside, withdrawing her hand with a frown. “Is this your girlfriend?”
“Sure. Let’s call it that.” Callingwood smiled, shooing Morgan away like a pesky animal. She had a good six inches on Morgan, which added insult to injury.
“Seriously?” Morgan glared at me. “You’re an asshole. Good luck with this one, sweetie.” She huffed and spun on her red stiletto heel before disappearing into the crowd.
So much for having options.
“Um, hi?” I turned to Callingwood with a frown.
What the fuck? Did she come back just to cockblock me?
I wasn’t sure whether she had changed her mind or was simply hell-bent on ensuring I went home alone tonight.
Unfazed by my lukewarm reception, she gestured to her friends. “Zara and Noelle, you remember Carter. I mean, Chase. Chase, this is Zara and Noelle. I’m sure you have some cute friends to introduce them to, right?”
Right. They were like a trifecta of gorgeous girls. My friends would be all over it. Zara was curvy, with long, reddish brown hair nearly down to her waist. And Noelle was more angular. She had a short black bob and golden tanned skin. Both very attractive, objectively speaking, but Callingwood was by far the hottest.
“Sure.” I kept my attention fixed on her. “I appreciate the introduction, but I still don’t know your name.”
I was part-irritated, part-intrigued, and wholly hoping I could still close this. I liked the challenge. I was dysfunctional that way.
Zara laughed, fluffing her long auburn hair. “I don’t know why she’s being so mysterious. Her name is Bailey.”
Bailey. It didn’t ring a bell. I couldn’t put my finger on why she looked familiar, though, and it was driving me crazy.
“Do you have a last name, Bailey? Or are you a one-name wonder like Rihanna?”
Bailey looked away, taking a sip of her drink. “James.”
Like Derek James, D-man for the Bulldogs? Holy shit. That was why she said she hated me. There was no shortage of bad blood there.
“Is Derek your brother?”
“Yup,” she said, popping the P.
“Ah.” I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral.
Talk about a plot twist. Derek was a fairly average-looking dude; even a little gangly. But his sister was a fucking dime. Athletic but curvy, with enough to grab on to. Tall too—in her heels, she wasn’t much shorter than me.
I was into it. Fully.
Noelle leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Bailey is single and ready to mingle. Newly single as of yesterday, in fact.”
Bailey shushed her, cheeks reddening. “We don’t need to talk about that.”
“What?” Zara shrugged. “It’s Luke’s loss.”
Luke…Luke. Then it clicked. Bailey was Morrison’s girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend, it would seem. That was why she looked so familiar. I’d probably seen her in the stands before.
But she was cheering for the wrong side.
“He’s an idiot, right?” Noelle chimed in, nudging me.
“Definitely,” I agreed. On both parts, actually—it being his loss and his status as a total fucking idiot. Luke Morrison was the worst kind of hockey player; one who took cheap shots and refused to answer for them later.