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Brynn leans in, but it’s loud enough all four of us hear her despite the crowd. “The guy she’s talking to isn’t texting her back.”
“Oh, girl, been there. Who are you talking to?” Callie asks, playing dumb—or maybe not. With her, you never know.
“Jaxon Ryan,” Inez says, and my heart drops with his name on her lips.
Welp. She said his name.
How am I doing?
Mmm. Glad you asked.
I’M NOT OKAY!
My hands are shaking, fingernails digging into my palms. The roar of the crowd fades to white noise. I hate she even knows him. I hate they’re talking. I hate she’s standing near me. I hate... pretty much everything right now.
Brynn leans closer and wraps her arms around my neck, her breath warm against my ear. “Apparently he hasn’t texted her all day.”
“Wait, what?” I mouth, my heart pounding, competing with the bass of the arena music. It’s the first good news I’ve had in weeks. When Jaxon and I are talking, we don’t go a day without saying something to each other.
Brynn nods eagerly, and though I want to be excited, it might mean nothing, other than Jaxon having an off day. Or he’s being moody. Which, if you know Jaxon, happens a lot during the season.
“Can you please sit the fuck down!” someone behind us yells over the sound of skates carving ice.
Brynn whips around, smiles sarcastically, and shrugs. “Dude. Everyone is standing.”
She’s not wrong, but we eventually sit down. I’m on the end closest to the aisle, then Callie, Brynn, and Inez. I’m far enough away from Inez we can’t talk, but Callie never stops chatting with her.
The cold from the ice seeps through the glass, so I tug my sweatshirt sleeves over my hands. We’re introduced and I shake her hand politely. Her grip is loose, hesitant, nothing like the confidence you need to date someone like Jaxon. Dating him isn’t for the weak. Not because he’s difficult—well, he can be. He’s intense, in every way, and you have to handle that.
A thunderous crash snaps my attention back to the game. Two players collide in a spray of ice, bodies slamming into the plexiglass right in front of us. The crowd surges to their feet as fists start flying. The satisfying thud of knuckles on jerseysdrowns out the ref’s whistle, and I find myself standing too, caught up in the electricity of the moment.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” The crowd chants, and Inez sinks lower in her seat.
I think about leaving, but I love hockey so I try to focus on the rest of the game—the swift passes, the crack of sticks, the swoosh when the puck hits the net. The Kraken are winning by two. But my eyes keep drifting back to her.
Like any girl sizing up the one her man left her for, I secretly watch her every chance I get. I’ve never seen her up close. Only from a distance in the Starbucks line.
Until now.
Her hair is dark, almost black, slicked back into a tight ponytail without a strand out of place. She’s wearing thick, dark glasses that make her eyes look huge, and every few seconds, she smooths back flyaway hairs near her ears. From what I can see, she’s a perfectionist, or maybe has some obsessive-compulsive tendencies.
She’s wearing a black crewneck, the same jeans I saw her in before—paint splatters and all—and clutching a black rain jacket to her chest like a shield. Every time the crowd jumps to their feet, she shrinks further into her seat.
Another brutal check sends a player sprawling. The crowd roars. Inez fidgets with her jacket zipper and glances at her phone. When the puck slams against the glass, she jumps. Every. Single. Time.
I don’t think she knows who I am. Okay, she knows my name now but probably doesn’t know I’m Jaxon’s ex. She transferred during the last quarter of our freshman year. Jaxon and I weren’t officially dating anymore, but we were still hooking up in the dugout at midnight, never seen together in public.
I doubt Jaxon has mentioned me either. Remember? He’s super private and refuses to tell anyone about his life.
One thought keeps circling my mind: I do not like her. I know, I know. I’m being childish, but can you blame me? She has the guy I spent the last six years loving.
The game endswith one final horn blast, Kraken’s win, and Brynn apologizes obsessively for bringing Inez. The smell of night air and rain replaces the arena’s ice and popcorn as we step outside.
“I’m so sorry,” she tells me, hugging me in the misty rain that makes everything glow under the streetlights. “I didn’t know what else to do and... yeah.”
I nod, raindrops collecting on my eyelashes. “It’s okay.” I stand on the other side of Callie, trying not to watch Inez’s every move. She looks awkward, clutching her jacket even tighter now we’re outside. “I’m not mad.”
“Okay.” She nods. “But seriously, girl. I don’t think it’s going well.”