Page 43

She scrunches her nose, her forehead furrows, and it’s clear she doesn’t understand.

I motion to the quad we’re crossing. It’s a big, green open space surrounded by buildings on all sides. It’s late, so only a few students sit on the grass, flipping through books or chatting in small groups. “Imagine crossing the quad.”

“So?”

“How did it feel the first time you did it alone as a freshman?”

She shivers. “I practically ran across it. I swear, everyone was staring at me. I felt exposed.”

A natural reaction for a girl from a small town in Nebraska suddenly surrounded by thousands of students.

I nod. “And now?”

“Now?” Her eyes drift over the quad. “Now I don’t even think about it. I just get to where I need to go, regardless of how busy it is.”

“That’s what it’s like. Before, I swear I could feel every eye on me when I was on the ice,” I explain.

She shivers again. “I felt it, and I wasn’t even on the ice.”

I squeeze her hand. “Then it became background noise. It’s there, but I can focus on it if I want or tune it out if it’s a distraction.”

And lately, it’s been a distraction.

I frown.

“What is it?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Come on.”

But I can’t help but think of how I used to feel playing hockey. People used to cheer and crowd around, calling or chanting my name. And I would feed off their excitement. I’d want to impress them and give them my best.

It made me a better player.

I risked more. I was hungry for every single goal, even the ones with impossible odds that no one would go for.

And sometimes, I made the impossible happen. I can’t remember when that feeling went away. It just did. Suddenly, I started seeing the crowd as a distraction, not as something that had made me grow as a player.

Is that what’s throwing me off my game?

Who am I playing for? Me? Them? Or something else?

And why, at the cusp of entering the NHL at twenty-two, don’t I know something I should have known years ago?

I used to feel like I was a god. Then I met Reid and Javier, and when we were perfectly in synch, no one could touch us. It’s when people started calling us the Magic Three.

I laughed when I first heard the nickname people gave us. So did Reid and Javier. But we kept winning and winning, and we all stopped laughing, and it became real.

Just like this fake-date thing was supposed to be pretend, yet Reid and Javier are treating Tobie like she’s actually ours. I’m starting to do the same.

I study Tobie, walking quietly by my side. We’re still holding hands, and I don’t want to let her go.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

The last time I wanted someone as much as I want her was never.

Not once. Not until Tobie.

Javier says she’s easy to be around. Not for me. She makes me painfully aware of how perfectly she fills the emptiness I didn’t know I had in my life.

As if she feels my attention, she flicks her gaze toward me.

“Dreading this party?” I ask her.

The party was Javier’s suggestion. Everyone is buying our relationship, but this isn’t to rub it in Marc’s face like the last one. Javier wants to show Tobie that a college party can be fun, especially since we’re all graduating soon.

She smiles. “Not really. I’ve seen the power of your legendary glare in action. I know where to go if there’s someone I don’t want to talk to.”

“I’ll save you a space, Myers,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You always have a space right beside me.”

The party is in full swing by the time we arrive.

My nose itches from whatever the fuck someone is smoking in the back. It’s sweet and herby, and I’m not interested in investigating it.

It’s not as packed as the last party, and there’s a room set aside for dancing. I don’t dance. But I caught Tobie give that room a lingering look as we passed it on our way in. Does she want to dance?

Should I ask her?

“Brave must be rubbing off on Reid,” Javier says, glancing at his watch.

“What?” I rip my eyes from Tobie as she lifts her bottle of beer to her lips.

Since I saw her with the lollipop Doc gave her, her mouth has become an obsession.

Fuller on the top than the bottom. Soft and plush-looking.

It’s not the marijuana someone is smoking in the backyard I crave. It’s the taste of her lips.

She was reaching for a cup of punch someone offered her when we arrived.

Knowing—or not knowing—what someone put in there, I suggested a bottle of something instead.

I’ve been to enough of these parties in my freshman and sophomore years to remember the people who knocked back the punch and spent the rest of the party clogging up a bathroom, hurling their guts up.

No way was I letting that happen to Tobie.

“Reid mentioned he would meet us here,” Javier says, his gaze fixed on my red knuckles as his eyebrow arches. "Is there something you want to share?”

“Just a run in with Tobie’s ex.”

“I’m guessing he was dumb enough to provoke you. What happened?”

I fill him in on what happened and Javier shakes his head. “Sounds like he was asking for it.” He looks at Tobie. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at him. “Fine. Better than fine.”

He tilts his head, eyeing her curiously and smiling when she blushes and looks away. When his gaze returns to me and his expression turns knowing, it’s clear he’s worked out what we were doing before the party.

“What was Reid doing when you reminded him about the party?” I ask, because he should have been here before us.

Javier shrugs. “He wasn’t even dressed. I don’t know what he was doing, but he was being damn secretive about it.”

Tobie fidgets and looks away when I glance at her.

My eyes narrow on her and so do Javier’s.

“You know something,” I drawl.

She doesn’t quite meet my eye as she shakes her head. “No, I don’t.”

Javier laughs. “Yeah, like I said, the worst liar in the world. Spill, Gatinha .”

“There’s nothing to spill,” she denies, her cheeks turning pink.

Those pink cheeks aren’t because she’s being secretive. She likes Javier’s nickname for her. I asked him what it meant, and he told me. Beautiful. Little kitten. It suits her. I’m not surprised she likes it.

I want Tobie to feel good because of something I do for her. It’s the reason I did something I shouldn’t have.

“You know what Reid is doing,” I say to Tobie.

She hesitates.

I take her hand, leading her somewhere quiet to continue this conversation.

I find an empty bedroom, pull Tobie inside, and try not to look at the bed as Javier closes the door to shut off most of the music.

“Tobie, he’s our friend. If something is wrong, we’d like to help him,” I say.

Her hand tightens around the beer bottle, and she picks at the white label with nervous fingers. “He told me not to say anything.”

Javier straightens, no longer relaxed but concerned. “Is something wrong with him?”

She sighs and reluctantly says, “He’s behind on his paper.”

I frown. “No, he’s not.”

Reid has been helping me practice so much this year, that I asked him if he didn’t need to be studying on his free periods instead. He shrugged it off and said…

My frown deepens. He changed the fucking subject. Every time, he changed the subject.

Why the fuck didn’t I notice until now?

“What paper?” Javier asks, setting his drink aside.

“Public policy. He said it was worth sixty percent of his grade, and he hadn’t started it.”

I freeze. “He hadn’t started it?”

We have spring break coming up. When we come back to school, we’re going to be busy planning for graduation and prepping for the championship. All our professors have been pretty clear that all papers need to be submitted this side of spring break, not after.

Like most of the team, we’re on full-ride athletic scholarships. Except Javier. They offered him one, but he refused, said he would pay his way and to offer the scholarship to someone who needed it more than he did.

Reid is smart, but our grades are tied to our scholarship. Flunking risks him being kicked off the team and potentially even the school.

“He’s started the paper now. I’ve been helping him,” Tobie says. “He said you needed his help more, and that Javier was going through some stuff, so he set it aside. He didn’t want you to know.”

Guilt burns white hot in my gut as I turn to Javier.

He looks as guilty as I feel. His breakup with Daniela hit him hard. And it’s not just the breakup but his parents’ refusal to support his decision to choose hockey as a career.

Reid is always so happy to help, dropping whatever to lend a hand, that it’s easy to forget he has just as much shit on his plate as the rest of us.

Tobie continues, “I only found out when I saw a note from his professor. That’s when I started helping him with the paper.”

“That isn’t good enough,” I growl.

Hurt fills her eyes.

I sigh. “That’s not what I mean. You are doing plenty. And I’m guessing you’ve been doing it for a while?”

She chews her lip and nods. “Whenever I could without making you suspicious.”

“But I haven’t been doing enough,” I say.

“Neither have I,” Javier adds.

I study her for a beat. “I know we agreed to help you get revenge on your ex. It’s why we’re here in the first place. But?—”

She puts her beer down on a dresser. “Reid needs help, and I’d rather be helping him than getting revenge on Marc.”

It gets harder every day to remember what my life was like before Tobie entered it.

We’re at Reid’s door fifteen minutes later.

I bang on the door as Tobie and Javier wait beside me. “Open up, Pollyanna!”

It’s hard to miss the sound of wrinkling paper, a soft thump, and a muttered curse before the door swings open to reveal a frazzled-looking Reid wearing sweats. “I was just about to get ready for the party. Give me?—”

“You’re an idiot,” I snarl.

“I was coming to the party, but?—”

I barge past him, spot the bulge under his comforter, and stalk over to his bed, ignoring his attempts to distract me.

I whip the sheets back to reveal a jumble of books and notepads.

I point at it. “ That is why you’re an idiot. Why the fuck didn’t you tell us about the paper? We’d have helped you.”

Reid’s gaze slides to Tobie, and she shuffles from foot to foot, her expression sheepish.

“I’m sorry, Reid. I know you told me not to say anything, but?—”

“She’s a terrible liar,” Javier interrupts. “You should have said something.”

Reid crosses over to his desk, slumping into the seat and raking a hand through his hair. “I have it under control.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t be hiding this.” I lift my hand before he can speak. “When was the last time you ate?”

His stomach rumbles.

Sighing, I pull my phone from my pocket. “I’m calling for takeout. We’re going to eat… you more than us, and we’re going to work on this paper together. We’ll pull an all-nighter if necessary.”

I bring up a food delivery app and start selecting dishes. Chinese takeout is Reid’s favorite, so that’s what we’re eating. Then I remember Tobie’s thyroid disease. “Tobie, I’m ordering Chinese. Is there anything you can’t eat? I can order you something else if you want?”

She smiles faintly. “It’s okay. The occasional takeout is fine.”

“But we have practice tomorrow morning,” Reid reminds me as I finish ordering and slip my phone back into my pocket.

I take in my teammate’s tired eyes and slumped shoulders and I ask myself what else I’ve been missing. I’m supposed to be his friend, not just his captain. I should have been looking out for him. Instead, I’ve been making everything about me.

Just like Dad.

I need to do better.

“I’ll drop Coach a text, let him know we’ll be late. If we miss it, we can make up for it. He’ll understand.” I look at Tobie. “You don’t have to…”

But she’s already walking over to the bed and picking up books and notebooks that she carries to the desk and sets them down. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Javier shrugs out of his coat and hangs it behind the door. “If we need Red Bull later, I can run out and grab some.”

Reid looks guiltily at Tobie. “We’re supposed to be helping you out, not working on my bitch of a paper.”

She smiles. “You’re more important than a revenge mission, Reid. How about we make a plan of attack before the food comes and get started after you’ve eaten?”

He circles her wrist, gently tugs her into his lap, pressing a soft kiss to her lips that I instantly want to repeat.

“You are some woman, Tobie Myers,” he says.

“Not really, but I’m glad you think so. Now quit distracting me, and let’s get to work.”

He salutes her with a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What’s the title of the paper?” Javier asks.

Reid tells us.

Javier sighs. “I’ll be back with the Red Bull. This sounds like an all-nighter.”

Damn right.