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And the angles are…unforgiving.

I cringe at the double chin that somebody looks like they photoshopped to make my natural one look worse. Great. And is that…did they make mebigger? As if I needed help with that.

Then I see the comments, and I really wish I hadn’t. Because they’re gross. Worse than the first time.

Stix6969:Isn’t this the same jersey chaser who was with Hoffman from the Rangers? She gets around fast

TaylorPMP91:They running train now??

PatYorks86:She clearly is eating them alive

AbroBro:They could do way better

I don’t want to keep reading, so I force myself to turn my screen off and look around for Alex, who disappeared into the restroom a couple of minutes ago.

When my phone vibrates with Sebastian’s name on the screen, I groan loudly. “Shit.”

The Hershey bar staring at me puts its hand on its hips like it’s scolding me for swearing.

“If you knew what was going on, you’d be cussing too, buddy,” I inform the person behind the costume.

Whoever it is shakes their head in disagreement. But I don’t have time to argue with a character whose job is to pretend to be a happy piece of chocolate.

“Hey, big brother,” I greet chipperly, turning away from the mascot and walking toward a bench off to the side. “How’s Tori and the baby?”

“Are you really going to pretend like you’re not with Alex O’Conner and his fucking team right now?” he asks dryly. “Really, Olive?”

I nibble my bottom lip. “I was being nice. People usually start phone conversations with greetings. You didn’t even say hi to me.”

“Hi. Now why the fuck are you with Alex?”

I make a face. “Well…” It should be an easy answer.I’m with Alex.Just say it.

Three.

Two.

One.

“I’m—”

“You better not be with the guy,” Sebastian says, cutting me off. “He’s bad news, Olive. I mean it. You don’t know him like I do. I’ve seen him lose his shit on people for no damn reason.”

Alex? “Isn’t that part of hockey? You’re all spontaneously abrasive. It’s what makes you good players.”

He cusses. “I saw him knock out Able Starr during my last season at Lindon. One punch and he was out cold in the locker room.”

I gape. Able was a brute of man compared to Alex. That seems almost impossible. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Alex? Because you used to play with Alex Bordeau, that French-Canadian guy who transferred to Lindon. He was massive.”

I’m pretty sure he did steroids, but that’s neither here nor there.

“It was O’Conner,” my brother deadpans. “I don’t want to be an asshole, Olive. But his anger gets the better of him and he can snap when you least expect it. The guy can be quiet and reserved, but there’s a side of him I don’t want you around. I told you before to stay away from my teammates, especially him. Remember? You were supposed to remember Eli Manning.”

Is he serious? “So what? Was I supposed to only think about a famous athlete who I’ll never meet, much less be with? That’s unfair, and you know it. You might as well tell me you want me to stay single forever.”

He doesn’t tell me I’m right. “Cut whatever this is off with O’Conner.”

Wetting my lips, I study my surroundings to see if Alex has found where I’ve wandered off to. He’s talking to a group of guys who are holding out their phones for selfies with him.