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No, my ex-best friend’s ex-boyfriend needs to stay wherever he’s been hiding for the last several months because I can’t take the reminders of them.
CHAPTER TWO
Zaiah
My shoulders deflateas Nor walks away, hiking her purple laptop bag up, her blonde hair swinging behind her.
The reminder of Trish was a quick blow, rotting the contents of my stomach. Memories of her are like an anchor snagged on a boulder that’s bolted to the bottom of an unforgiving ocean. Some days, I think I’ve cut the tether. Others, the line tightens stronger than ever.
That feeling, coupled with the one lifeline I had walking away, sends a surge of frustration the size of a gnarly defenseman through my limbs. Nor has never been anything but nice to me. Always had a smile on her face. But that right there? I don’t know what that was.
Nothing is going my way lately.
“Z,” my friend calls out.
Turning, I spy Adam, the other winger, over the heads of several students who pass between us while they head to class. He stands underneath a huge Warner football banner, putting an exclamation point on my dark mood.
I glower in his direction.
He lifts a brow. “Who was that and why does she hate you?”
Making my way back toward him, I slow so he can fall in step beside me. “Nor.”
“Never heard of her.”
“Yes, you have,” I grumble.
“Is she some puck bunny?”
I nearly choke. As I recall, Nor was far from a rink girl. She’s not the type. In fact, I don’t remember her liking hockey at all, but that aside, what world is he living in? “You’re delusional.”
“Oh, I forgot.” He rolls his eyes. “Girls are dead to you.”
“Have you also forgotten we don’t have puck bunnies? We have a smattering of jailbait, senior-citizen groupies, and family members.”
“Aw, don’t sell yourself short.” Adam peers up and catches the attention of a brunette passing by. “Hey, do you know who he is?”
He hikes his thumb at me, and the girl looks me over, gaze narrowing. “Should I?”
I glare at him, then turn toward her. “Who’s your favorite athlete on campus?”
She blushes, the pink reaching all the way into her hairline. “The Hulk.”
The Hulk, a.k.a. West Brooks, celebratedfootball player.
I push Adam forward, and he chuckles, calling back, “You know he has a girlfriend.”
“Don’t remind me,” she huffs.
“If you ever want to watch a real sport, you—”
I hit him in the chest with the back of my hand, and he coughs, unable to finish his sentence. “Cut your losses,” I advise.
He rubs his chest. “I was doing promo.”
“By starting a war with the football team?”
He grins. “Everyone knows hockey is the superior sport.” Gazing around, he latches onto another female student. “Hey, do you know who he is?”