Page 63 of Arresting the Hockey Player

We stand by the bar for a few minutes, Amber sliding onto the barstool while I stand beside her.

“Any hotties out there?” she asks, grinning at me.

“You tell me.”

“I have a boyfriend. You need to get laid!”

She’s loud, but the music drowns out most of the conversation. I grumble. “I don’t want just any dick.”

Amber’s eyes widen, and she giggles profusely. “You want Noah’s dick,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“But he won’t even listen to my apology.”

“You should come over tonight. Have a sleepover. Jasper and Noah are hanging out. We can make popcorn and watch a chick flick.”

I pull my phone from my clutch.

“What are you doing?” Amber asks, leaning forward to watch me.

“Calling him.”

“He won’t pick up.”

She’s right. Noah won’t pick up, but I don’t have to call Noah to reach him. “I’m calling your boyfriend,” I laugh. “What’s Jasper’s number?”

“You are not hooking up with my boyfriend.” The smile vanishes from her face as she sizes me up. The girl could never play poker because she has far too many tells.

“Relax. We need to get them to come out here. Jasper will pick you up if we lie and say you're wasted. Right? Then he’ll take us back to your place to sober up and Noah is there.”

“I am wasted,” Amber says.

“Good. Like that, be convincing.”

Amber topples off the barstool onto me, giggling as I push her back onto the seat before someone else snatches it.

“Do that when he gets here. That’s good.”

“Do what?” Amber asks, staring at me, laughing. “The stool is spinning.”

I smile at her. “It’s not.”

“Yes, it is! It’s like one of those spinning rides at the carnival. And Noah isn’t going to like it if you come over. He already hates you.”

I ignore her remark about Noah. He’s mad at me. He doesn’t hate me. There’s a difference. I fucked up and the sooner he realizes that I’m sorry, the sooner we can at least get back to being friends.

“Give me your phone,” I say, putting mine back into my purse. I’m not sure if Jasper will pick up for me if I call him.

Amber shoves her entire purse at me. I retrieve her phone, unlock it with her birth year as the passcode, and find Jasper’s number.

I hit call, and he picks up after two rings.

“Are you done already at the club?” Jasper asks as he picks up the phone, recognizing Amber’s number. There’s not even a standard greeting ofhello.

“Your girlfriend thinks the bar stool is a merry-go-round.”

“No!” Amber shrieks with laughter over the music and shoves her lips near the phone. “It’s like one of those tilt-a-whirls.”

“I’m on my way. Where are you?”