Page 5

Quinn

"Come to the bonfire with us tonight." Nadia, a classmate, walks across the campus lawn with me.

We've finished a challenging group project together, and one of our classmates is hosting a party at his place to celebrate. When I hesitate, she adds, "Don't think of saying no. I'll bet you haven't been out once since orientation."

Nadia was the first female friend I made at Harvard.

We met the weekend before classes started during an orientation event.

She was standing next to me at a cocktail party and talked my ear off about her impressions of.

.

.

well, everything.

I immediately loved her outgoing and bubbly personality because she reminded me of Lyndsey.

We hit it off right away.

She is one of those girls who speaks her mind and doesn't care what anyone thinks. She's opinionated, ballsy, and wicked smart.

Aiden, walking on my other side, looks over at me.

"What time does it start?" I ask.

She takes this as a yes. "Great! It's in a few hours. How about I come to your place and hang out until then?" She turns to Aiden. "Do you have any booze?"

He nods. "Sure. I've got a few beers in the fridge."

I let out a groan of surrender. "Okay, fine. I'm not staying too late, though. I want to start the reading for the next case study."

Laughing, she asks, "Tonight?"

"I know it's dorky, but I'm excited to dive into the next topic."

"Then you need to celebrate with us tonight," Aiden insists, "We promise you'll have an awesome time. And if you want to leave early, I'll go home with you, and we can dig into that reading together."

"Think I will be the soberest person there?" I ask.

"Probably," Aiden admits. "But I know you will also be the hottest."

"Hey!" Nadia shoves his shoulder.

"Okay, okay, I lied," Aiden says. "You will be tied for hottest with Nadia.".

"That's better." She smirks at him.

I shrug. "Fine. You guys have yourself a deal. I'll come."

____________

The party wasn't exactly what I expected. It's at a big house minutes from campus, filled with a few poverty-level graduate students but many younger undergrads.

Alcohol bottles litter every open surface.

Music blares from two speakers on the opposite ends of a stained futon.

People are everywhere holding red Solo cups.

Most guys are wearing what would be considered preppy attire, and most girls are dressed in what could be considered child-sized clothes.

The coffee table looks like it's seen better days. There are dents in the wood legs, and the tabletop has water stains all over it. This party is not my scene, but Nadia is completely enthralled when she sees a group of shirtless guys doing a keg-stand.

Aiden, meanwhile, could be more readable. When some guy I've never seen before greets him and hands him a beer, he disappears into the swarm of warm bodies.

Nadia bounces a little and then reaches for my hand, squeezing it. "I'm so glad you finally came out! I know you'll opt for a ginger ale, but I need something hard to drink. And fast."

She pulls me through the crowd, and we enter the kitchen. We squeeze through a cluster of guys shouting at a television propped against the wall behind the kitchen table. My head turns to the familiar sound of skates slicing and tangled sticks.

I let go of Nadia's hand, and my stomach twists. There he is, covering virtually every inch of that ice in a Tornadoes jersey—strong build, aggressively wild. Cash Brooks mocks me through the flat screen. I played you, Mittens. Just like every other puck bunny...

I snap out of it when Nadia appears before me, holding a can of ginger ale.

"For you." She smiles at me, unaware that my heart is racing.

"Go, Brooks! Go!" yells a guy with dark-rimmed glasses and spikey brown hair. "If Brooks gets a hat-trick in his first game back in pros, all of you fools owe me ten bucks!"

Just hearing Cash's name again is enough to make me sick. I turn away, but then the buzzer goes off, and I see him with his stick raised above his head. Great. He scored a frickin' goal. It looks like he's doing fine without me.

Bitterness clogs my throat. Okay, Quinn, take a deep breath and leave this kitchen.

I take a sip of my ginger ale. Nadia was talking, and I leaned in to catch the rest of what she said.

". . . you wouldn't believe the way these guys lay bets over hockey. Every damn party. Their latest obsession is with the comeback of this Brooks guy. He's the most controversial player to make it back in the pros. His old record was that he usually gets a goal or two a game, so they decided to bet money on his points or some shit like that. All I know is that he is a complete hottie." she looks back at me over her shoulder, clarifying.

"I'm not into hockey, but if that Brooks plays something, I'll watch."

I'm uncomfortable, unsure what to say to my friend whose blue eyes are now glued to the Tornadoes game flashing on the flat screen. I've made a point of avoiding all things Cash since Bexley.

The Internet, sports networks, social media—when it comes to hockey and, in particular, the Santa Anna Tornadoes, I've stayed as far away as possible. That's not easy since my father is the President of Hockey Operations for Cash's team, but I've kept our conversations and texts short, sweet, and simple.

The last thing I want to hear about is his beloved team.

I've even told Lyndsey not to mention Cash's name.

And now he is, on the television, killing it on the ice. I can't tear my eyes away, even though I know I should.

"I heard he was a toughie when he played in the minors." Nadia takes a sip of her drink. "Aiden told me your dad works for the Tornadoes and that he used to be a big hockey star. Do you go to many games? Maybe we could go to one sometime."

"I'm too busy usually." I shake my head.

The memory of the game I went to with Lyndsey, where I first met Cash, flashes across my mind.

I imagine Nadia throwing herself at Cash, just like the hordes of other women at the rink that night.

My heart clenches at the thought, and I fight the overwhelming emotional struggle swirling inside me at the realization that Cash isn't mine anymore. Looking at the television one last time at the very man I loved makes me question if he ever really was mine.

Nadia laughs. "Too busy? The players are hot, especially Cash. Maybe I should come home with you at Christmas. I assume your dad knows him."

"Of course he does. He knows all his players."

She raises an eyebrow, sensing my discomfort. "Did you know him?"

I was about to lie and tell her no when Aiden's voice startled me.

"Yes, Quinn knew him...well." I turn around to see him holding a beer. "She used to work for the Bruisers."

"What? Seriously?" Nadia shrieks. "You never tell me anything!"

I give Aiden a scolding look. "There is nothing to tell."

"Is there a chance that your dad would introduce me?"

It's not a wise idea unless you'd be okay with being his part-time mistress and committing adultery. I want to say that but opt for something less telling. "I'm from Bexley, California, not Santa Anna," I remind her.

Nadia flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder, "Fine. But next time the Tornadoes play in Boston, I expect your dad to hook us up with front-row seats." Her gaze slides over my shoulder to someone behind me. "Ohmigod! Tammy's here! I'm going to say hi. I'll be right back."

Once she disappears, Aiden turns to me. "Want to head outside to the bonfire?"

"Sure." I follow him out the patio doors.

I'm in a far better mood at the bonfire. It's a lot more my pace.

One guy with long blond hair plays the guitar on a lawn chair while the guy beside him keeps the beat on a hand drum.

People are drinking and standing around the fire, chatting and sharing stories.

It feels like I am at a completely different party.

Aiden glances over at me as he roasts a hotdog over the fire and continues to talk my ear off about nothing important.

The more beers he drinks, the more talkative he gets.

After he eats his hotdog, he leans in closer to me and holds his phone in front of us.

"Whoa. What are you doing?" I lean away.

"I thought we could take a selfie." He takes a sip of his beer. "Come on, Quinn, we've been friends for years, and the last picture we took together was in the tenth grade."

I laugh. "Let me put on some lipstick at least." I reach into my purse, pull out a dark red gloss, and coat my lips.

Aiden smiles. "I didn't know this was going to be a big production. I feel honoured."

I wink at him. "Getting one's picture taken is always a big production."

He raises an eyebrow. "I like your thinking. Now smile."

He holds his phone before us and snaps a few shots with the bonfire flickering in the background.

"I'm going to grab another beer." Aiden shoves his phone into his pocket. "Can I get you something?"

"No thanks."

He places his hand on my arm. "Hey, if you want to head home soon, I'm good to go after this next beer."

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

His eyes lock with mine. "When we get back, we will crack down and study hard. I promise."

Once Aiden disappears into the crowd, Nadia's voice in my ear makes me jump.

"Okay. Um, heavy flirt alert." She chuckles and flops down in the empty lawn chair next to me.

"What are you talking about? We're friends," I grumble in annoyance.

"The eye contact. The hand on the arm. He wants to crack down and study hard with you."

"Oh...my head is so not there right now."

Her blue eyes take on a hesitant light. "What? Why not? Aiden's cute. And he's clearly into you."

The lump in my throat gets bigger, especially when I remember the vision of Cash only a few hours ago on the television.

God, I would like a distraction.

I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of wondering how Cash is doing and fighting the urge to call him.

But I am not ready to date again, even if I might not want to get back together.

"I'm getting over a breakup."

Nadia's response is swift and scolding. "You never told me you were with someone before coming to Harvard."

I shrug. "I'm not one to broadcast my love life."

"Did you break up because you left for Harvard?"

"That was one reason..." I let my voice trail off.

"Wow. No wonder you couldn't see the flirting. That was only a few months ago. You need a proper dicking, lady." She smirked and took a sip of her drink, wiggling her eyebrows at me over the rim of her glass.

"No," I say finally. "I do not need a proper dicking. I am not ready right now."

"I refuse to accept that. You left a guy behind, but millions of hot, smart, eligible men are on the Harvard campus. And Aiden is totally into you. Plus, you live together. Easy access."

I shudder out a breath. "Which is exactly why we shouldn't be together. Complete disaster."

"Or a complete match made in heaven," she quips.

I shake my head. "No, when I'm finally ready to meet someone, I want a 'meet cute.'"

"What the hell is a meet-cute?" she asks.

I shrug. "You know, like in the movies. It's when a couple meets for the first time in a way considered adorable or amusing."

She snorts. "That is the most depressing thing I have ever heard. Nobody meets cute in real life, Quinn. Tinder ruined that ages ago."

I frown. "Meet cutes still exist. And Aiden is not my meet cute."

"Did you meet cute with your last boyfriend?"

"You could say that," I remember when Cash picked me out from the crowd, climbed over the penalty box and asked for my name. Then, the moment he promised the next goal he scored was for me. And then he scored, just like he said he would...

"Ooh. Aiden's coming back. Look natural. Sexy natural," Nadia whispers, breaking me away from my bleak memories of Cash.

"What? No."

She slaps my slouched back, "Quinn. Shoulders back."

"Uh...everything okay?" Aiden asks, shifting his eyes between the two of us.

"Yeah, everything is cool," I reply, avoiding eye contact with him.

"I ended up drinking my beer in the house. Did you still want to get out of here? Go back and hit the books for a bit?" he asks.

"Quinn would love to hit the books with you," Nadia pipes up.

Aiden's smile widens. "Okay, let's go. I'm going to grab my jacket. Be right back."

"I'm not hitting the books with him," I say once he's gone.

"Sure you're not." Nadia winks at me. "Don't forget to tell me how hard he studies. He might study so hard that maybe I'll also want him as my study buddy."

As frustration forms a knot in my gut, I mumble, "You're a pervert."

I stand up and find Aiden walking towards us.

"Ready to go?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes, let's go."