Page 27
Story: From Now On (Holt Hockey #3)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
HUNTER
A idan and Conor are both sitting in the kitchen when I walk inside.
“Finally!” Aidan crows when he spots me. He squints at the schedules on the fridge. “Diplomacy, Crisis, and War in the Modern Era ended two hours ago. Where have you been?”
“I was in the library,” I answer, pulling a container of leftover pasta out of the fridge. “I just came home for some dinner and my laptop charger, then I’m headed back.”
“The library?” Aidan looks aghast. Prior to his tutoring arrangement, I’m pretty sure he had no clue where the library was located on campus. “It’s Friday night .”
“Yeah, and I’ve got to turn in my thesis presentation on Tuesday.”
“Yeah, and that leaves Monday to get it done.”
I snort as the microwave beeps, pulling my steaming pasta out. “You sure you only failed the one class, Phillips?”
Aidan flips me off as I blow on a bite. “I un failed, dick. Come on. The lacrosse team won their first game of the season earlier. They’re throwing a party at Willis’s tonight.”
“Good for them.”
“Good for us . When was the last time we all went to a party together?”
“The Thursday before break,” I reply.
Conor rolls his eyes. “That was a rhetorical question, Morgan.”
“How about you come tonight, and then I won’t make fun of you for spending the weekend in the library?” Aidan suggests.
“You and Hart go,” I tell him. “Bring your girlfriends.”
“Harlow went home for the weekend, and Rylan has a family thing with her parents.”
“Ah, right.”
I forgot Conor mentioned Harlow was leaving this weekend, and Rylan’s unavailability explains Aidan’s availability.
“Don’t be like that, man. Hart and I are offering to be your wingmen. When was the last time you got laid?”
I continue shoving pasta into my mouth, hoping Aidan will have moved on to another topic by the time I finish dinner.
“Rylan said Holly was flirting with you in the café yesterday,” he says.
I hide a grimace. Getting stuck in a conversation with Holly while Rylan went over to chat with Eve was uncomfortable for multiple reasons. Holly was flirty while returning my notes, and I don’t know why, because I thought we were in agreement after our disastrous date. Also, Rylan leaving me in line to say hi to Eve meant I couldn’t leave the line to say hi to Eve and try to make up for avoiding her at Gaffney’s.
Aidan and Conor are both staring at me expectantly, waiting for some sort of a reply.
I like Rylan and Harlow, consider them both friends, but a definite downside of hanging out with them is that they remember—and share—details my friends wouldn’t know otherwise.
“I’ll find out if she’s going to be at Willis’s tonight,” Phillips decides.
“Don’t,” I tell Aidan around a mouthful of penne.
He sighs and sets his phone down. “Rylan said one of her roommates—Chloe, I think—is single.”
“Dude, she’s a junior,” Conor says.
“So?” Aidan challenges. “What’s wrong with being a junior?”
I swallow the last bite of pasta and set the empty glass container in the sink. They can do the dishes while they play matchmaker. “If I get enough done tonight, I’ll go out with you guys tomorrow night. But because you’re my best friends. Not because I want you to find me a girlfriend.”
Hart frowns. “I thought you wanted a relationship. Isn’t that why you went out with Holly?”
I can’t explain to Conor that I lost interest in dating Holly—in dating anyone—as soon as Eve ran into me in the hallway and the words My boyfriend and I just broke up left her mouth. Or I could, I guess, if I wanted pity stares and for my best friends to physically drag me out tonight.
“I’ve got other priorities right now,” I say instead. “Have fun at the lax party.”
I head upstairs for my laptop charger, and then back outside without stopping in the kitchen. Hart’s persistent and Phillips is stubborn. Chances are, they’d lasso me into going out with them.
I do need to get this presentation finished, but the main reason I’m avoiding going out tonight is that I’m simply not in the mood. I still feel strange about things with Eve.
At some point soon, I need to get over my disappointment. I got past missing my chance with Eve once—sort of. I’ll get over it again—for good this time.
Unsurprisingly, the parking lot closest to the library is practically empty. Fridays—particularly Friday nights—are not the most popular time to hang out in the library.
I prefer it like this. You don’t have to go up to one of the quiet floors to be able to focus. The first floor, where normal noise level is allowed, is almost completely silent.
I walk through the lobby, pausing to fill up my water bottle at the fountain, and then turn left. The windows at the far end overlook the main quad of campus, lit up by the lamps that line the brick walkways. It’s very collegiate-looking. And, call me a nerd, but I’ve always loved school. I like learning new things and I like the challenge of applying that knowledge to different situations.
Once I near the windows I start scanning the tables, looking for a spot to sit.
My steps slow as soon as I spot her. I blink rapidly, like I might possibly be imagining the sight.
She’s at the table I usually choose, right past the Greek mythology section. I took a classical mythology course sophomore year and had to write a paper on Hades. Since the books all weighed a ridiculous amount, sitting nearby made sense. It’s farther away from most of the traffic on the first floor on busier days and has a clear view out the windows, so sitting there has stuck.
I swallow and swerve in that direction.
Eve doesn’t see me coming. She’s focused on her laptop, lips moving silently as she scans the screen open in front of her. She’s wearing glasses, which I’ve never seen her wear before.
Every time I see Eve, I notice something different about her appearance. Even after this past week, when I got to steal a lot of looks. Today, in addition to the glasses, it’s the green ribbon tying together the end of her braid.
She still doesn’t glance up when I reach the table, so I tap the chair across from her.
Eve jumps, her elbow nearly spilling her water bottle all over the keyboard.
“Sorry,” I say.
I’m apologizing for more than startling her.
This time, she doesn’t tell me not to.
“Hi.” Eve sits up straight. Her tongue swipes her lower lip, wetting it nervously. She lifts one hand and tugs on the end of the ribbon in her hair. It flutters to the table.
She says nothing else.
My grip on the chair back tightens. “Hey. Can I sit with you?”
Eve glances at the sea of empty tables surrounding us. “There are lots of other options.”
The tightness in her tone is new. Eve sounds… angry . Angry at me . I’ve never even heard Eve annoyed before.
Absurdly, it makes me want to smile. Because Eve and I haven’t spoken since spring break. So, if she’s mad at me, she’s bothered by that.
I rest my elbows on the back of the chair, leaning a little closer. “I don’t want other options, Eve.”
She blushes. And fuck, if I haven’t missed that sight. Her cheeks weren’t pink when she was getting coffee with Ben.
“You can sit. But I have a lot to get done.”
I pull the chair out. “I have a lot to get done too.”
She watches me get settled, opening my laptop and plugging in the charger.
“Cute glasses,” I comment, pulling out the folder that has my notes.
Eve reaches up and fiddles with them. “They’re for blue light,” she explains. “I get headaches after looking at screens. Although…” She glances at the computer. “I think it might be the work giving me a headache, not the screen.”
“What are you working on?”
“An essay for my Poetics of Narrative class. My advisor wouldn’t let me take only art classes, and it sounded interesting. Interpretive.”
“Is it?”
Her nose wrinkles, lifting her glasses a little. “I guess? The discussions are interesting, but this was the prompt for our first paper, and it’s worth half of our final grade.” She shoves a sheet toward me, sounding stressed.
“‘Analyze the significance of a pivotal turning point in a story and compare it in three different literary works, exploring its impact in contrasting narrative forms,’” I read aloud. “What the fuck does contrasting narrative forms mean?”
“I don’t know. I met with the professor, but left more confused. And if you can’t figure it out, then I’m really screwed.”
I smile. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re smart , Mr. I Got In To Every School I Applied To.”
“You’re smart, Eve. And you’re the one who’s actually taking the class.”
“If only that was helpful.” She takes the paper back. “What are you working on?”
“My senior thesis presentation. It’s due Tuesday.”
“What’s your thesis about?”
“The impact criminalizing Schedule II substances has on government policy and public perception.”
“Wow. Big topic.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It is.”
Eve doesn’t ask why I chose it, which I’m grateful for. I’m not sure I’d lie to her, but I don’t feel like discussing Sean either.
She refocuses on her work. I follow her studious lead, reviewing slides and making changes. I’m about three-quarters through my presentation when I hear Eve swear under her breath.
I glance up. “Something wrong?”
She’s scowling at the screen. “My laptop died and I forgot to bring a charger.” She pushes her glasses to the top of her head and then rubs her eyes.
“You can borrow mine,” I offer. I’ve been here an hour, so my computer will last a while if I unplug.
“No, it’s fine. I need a break anyway. I’ll finish it tomorrow.”
I can’t think of a single reason to ask her to stay, aside from that I want her to. But she probably has plans with Ben. If Harlow’s out of town, she has their place to herself.
I shove thoughts of what that could mean far, far away.
Eve shuts her laptop. Exhales, before she asks, “Why did you sit here, Hunter?”
She sounds angry again.
“Because I wanted to,” I answer honestly.
“ Why did you want to?” she presses.
“Why did you get back together with him?” I retort.
The irritation bleeds out of Eve’s expression. She blinks rapidly. “What?”
“Your ex. Ben . Aren’t you back together with him?”
“I—no. No . Why would you think that?”
No . That might be my new favorite word.
Relief hits me like a cascade of falling bricks. “I saw you getting coffee with him on Monday. You guys looked… I just assumed…”
“I ran into him on my way to get a coffee. He asked to talk and I couldn’t think of a good excuse not to fast enough, and then…we’re definitely not—he wanted to tell me he had sex with someone else over break.” She shakes her head.
More relief hits. And then her words fully register.
“He had sex with someone else over break?”
“Yep.” Eve plays with the ribbon on the table. “Sure didn’t waste any time. Guess I’m not the only one who thought our sex life was boring.” She blushes, then glances around at the empty tables surrounding us to make sure no one else is in earshot. “Or maybe I’m just bad at it.”
“You’re not bad at sex.”
Eve raises one eyebrow. “How do you know?”
“Because you’re bad at bowling.”
She laughs. Loudly enough that if anyone was in earshot, they would have looked this way.
“That’s mean.” She’s smiling as she says it.
I shrug. “I don’t make the rules.”
“You had four strikes. Does that mean you’re bad in bed?”
“Every rule has its exceptions.”
Eve tilts her head, shooting me a teasing smile. “Or you just want to think so.”
“Wanna find out?”
I hold my breath, waiting for her reply.
“Yes.”
I changed my mind.
That’s my new favorite word.
Table of Contents
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- Page 27 (Reading here)
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