Page 29

My reason for not calling Leo is more to do with fear than anything. As much as I don’t want to say it, Dave did a number on me, and the reality of what I had been doing with my life by sleeping around jolted me into reality. For a year, I didn’t sleep with anyone, until New Year’s with Leo, when I thought the next morning I’d tell him how I felt. That I love him. But nope. Didn’t say a damn word.
In my room sulking again.
Believe it or not, I’ve been in love before. Tanner Hicks. Just thinking the name sends a little ping to my broken heart. I dated him my sophomore year in high school to our senior together. He was just out of the junior hockey league and entering the draft when he decided puck bunnies were a good time. Then I guess it became something where I thought if I had that lifestyle too, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. Not exactly the best thinking, but it was a plan of mine. Turned out, I never grew out of it. Some might think it’s childish because at twenty-three I should know better, but up until last year, I loved my life and my friends.
I have a good job, my own apartment I’m able to afford in Chicago by myself, go to every Blackhawks home game, and am genuinely happy with life.
I spend more time around hockey players than I do around girlfriends. In fact, I have no girlfriends aside from Ami. Ever since the Dave incident, we got a lot closer as she’s someone I can talk to who doesn’t pass a single ounce of judgment. She easily could have, but Ami is the sincerest person I know. A girl with a good, honest heart who cares deeply for the ones she loves. She’s a perfect match for the heart and passion that is Evan Masen. Absolutely perfect.
So what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I have love?
Maybe I’m cursed.
Growing up, I was small. Long dark hair, knobby, scabbed-up knees from playing with the boys, and wide brown eyes. Most people think I’m part Mexican or Puerto Rican with my darker olive skin, but no, I’m not. My dad is about as American as they come, but my mother, she was from El Salvador. How she wound up with a man like Ed Pratt is beyond me.
Back to me. If I look back and reflect on why I don’t have many friends, I think it has to do with them thinking I’m going to steal their boyfriends. It’s never like that, but it never stops the thoughts from surfacing in any female friendships I form. When I first met Ami, I thought for sure that was going to happen too. After all, I’d had a thing with Mase for a while.
It certainly wasn’t anything serious, but it was enough that I had been concerned she wouldn’t like me or would call me a slut.
Not Ami. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.
Resting my chin on the edge of my bed, I glance down at the floor. There’s a clear indication of my sobriety, or lack thereof, last night. A trail of my clothes leads from my front door, where my black boots are, to my bed, where my jeans and bra are. No surprise I still have my Blackhawks jersey on.
Guess whose name is plastered over the shoulders?
If you guessed Leo, you are correct.
As I sigh, a piece of my hair blows up in the process and back down in my face like a wilted flower. Then I stare at my phone, confused.
Why is this so hard for me?
Why can’t I just talk to Leo?
It’s just gone 5:00 a.m. Is he still with her, or did he leave in the morning?
I can’t get the look on his face when he left the bar out of my head.
Betrayal.
Disappointment.
Confusion.
Or maybe that was everything I’d been feeling. I don’t know.
Leo Orting isn’t someone you want to be in love with. If you are, sorry, sis, but you’re going to get your heart broken. He’s never even had a girlfriend, for Christ’s sake. I’m probably the closest thing he’s ever had to one, and we barely get along. He acts like a child half the time, and anytime we’re in public, I feel like I’m babysitting him rather than fucking him. Still doesn’t stop the fact that I am 100 percent desperately in love with that cocky bastard and am heartbroken he took someone else home.
An hour passes before I convince myself it’s time to finally look at the messages I’ve been avoiding all week.
As I pick up my phone, a message from Ami dings.
Ami:Shopping?
Retail therapy? Yes, please. I’m never one to turn down shopping. My stomach rumbles, and I remember I never ate yesterday. Once I found out Scott was going to the game with me, I had been too nervous to eat.
Me:Sure. Come by my place in like 2 hours?
Ami:Why 2 hours?