Page 27

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LOGAN

I titled the latest playlist Achey-Breaky No Heartachey with the hopes of the upbeat tempo songs would play defense against my feelings. Feeling sad? Dua Lipa wouldn’t allow it.

Daydreaming about what-ifs with Quentin, then feeling disappointed? Nope. Sabrina Carpenter said no way. I had to get in the right headspace to attend the home game tonight with Jordan.

We were going to support Preston, first and foremost, but also the guys on the team that I’d grown to know through tutoring. They weren’t the stars of the team, but they could be someday. And then there was Quentin.

The guy looked at me like he loved me, touched me like he did, but wouldn’t talk about it or acknowledge it. He was a coward who wanted to enjoy his anger, and I wanted no part of that. Threatening him in the library felt bold and powerful at the time, but now I felt silly. Of course he wasn’t going to change for me. He’d made that clear from the start. And the fact I said I wouldn’t wait around forever? Please.

I never wanted to date or fall for another guy again. I had two heartbreaks by twenty-one, and that felt like more than enough.

“You ready to pregame tonight?” Jordan knocked on the doorframe to my room wearing a manic smile. Her hair was up in a high pony, a matching shirt and ripped jeans on.

"You look hot." I smiled. “What’s your game?”

“Mmm, hoping to get noticed. Preston got us front row seats, so the team will definitely see us.”

“Get noticed by who?” I asked, totally not imagining Quentin seeing me near the ice. I’d never seen him play live, and I knew it’d make me fall in love with him again. He was made to be on the ice. “Jordan the Dan Dan. You don’t date players.”

“I know, but I’m over the whole nerd or artist thing. I want an athlete to switch things up. Might make the bedroom better. You know, you’ve been with athletes. It’s wild, huh?”

My blush was immediate. “You’re not… wrong.”

“Knew it. So yeah, I’m looking hot, so after the game, we can attend a party with Preston, and I can flirt my face off.” She walked in and pointed at me. “Don’t think I don’t know about your sadness. You’re hiding it very well, and I’m proud of you. But you’re gonna let me do your hair for tonight.”

“Oh, am I?” I set my laptop to the side.

“Yup. We’re gonna do a few shots and dance to your assjiggling2.0 playlist. Then we’re going to the game. Deal?”

“You’re scary to argue against, Dan.”

“I know. I question if I should become a lawyer every day. I enjoy arguing more than a normal human. Now, can we talk about Hawthorne?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, so the thing is?—”

“You are ridiculous.” I laughed and fell into her lap. “I’m glad we’re besties.”

“For life. I’ll cut you if you try to leave me.” She squeezed me tight, and her voice changed to a more serious tone. “For real though. I’m not one to do this, like ever, but I think Quentin is going through something. He organized your food in the fridge, Log. He cleaned your dishes the other night, not me. I’ve caught him watching you with this longing on his face. He is so different than Gage, and I’m struggling to be mad at him.”

“You and me both. He kissed me in the library two days ago. I pushed him away and said no, he’s either all in with me or not. No flings, no secret hookups. I haven’t talked to him or seen him since.”

“He’s gonna try to get you back. A true, real grovel.” Jordan played with my hair. “I want to speed it up a bit though. Hm, can I…I have an idea.”

My stomach swooped at the confidence in her words. I daydreamed of Quentin wanting to fight for us, to be all in. I wanted him to change his mind so we could really do this, but I wouldn’t wait. “I don’t know, Jordan.”

“I do. You gotta trust me, girl. I was right about Peter in high school and Jeffrey, and Blake. I’m right about this. Sure, I didn’t see Gage’s betrayal coming, but I didn’t love the guy.”

“Trust you,” I repeated. “What do you have in mind?”

I had never looked better. It was comical how good I looked. Jordan brought out all the stops. Usually, I wore minimal makeup and kept my hair simple, but she’d curled and styled my hair in a wonderful way. Then she dressed me. It was hard to dress sexy for a hockey game where it was chilly, but I couldn’t stop staring at the leather leggings and cropped long-sleeved shirt that had Quentin’s number on the front.

Nerves got the best of me. He could react poorly, hate it, but a small part of me wanted him to stumble. I’d never worn his number like this before, nor sat in the front row. My hair was curled and styled like I was an influencer, and I kept adjusting the cropped shirt. It wasn’t worry about my stomach looking weird, I loved my body, but I was so not used to wearing shirts like this.

“Knock it off, you look fabulous.” Jordan swatted my hand and winked at me. She’d taken three shots of tequila, I’d only done two, and we both felt the buzz. “Holy shit balls, why is hockey so hot?”

It wasn’t hockey for me, it was Quentin. He warmed up before the game, doing something with the team, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I loved the way the uniform fit his large yet toned body. The large 25 stood out from all the others. It was wild how my birthday was on the twenty-fifth and so was my dad’s. That number meant a lot to me, further proving that Quentin and I were supposed to be together. He just had to get his head out of his ass—and the outfit was supposed to help with that.

“Oh, here he comes.”

My heart jumped in my throat as he skated up and down the sides, his gaze focused and intense as he scanned the crowd. He looked unsure, almost like he was looking for someone in particular. He glanced right past us, and my stomach ached. “He didn’t see me.”

“That’s okay. Preston knows we’re here.” She waved at our other housemate, and Preston shook his head with a smirk. “He’s skating our way.”

Preston glided on the ice with his signature half-smile, and he tapped his stick against the glass a few times, mouthing what are you wearing to me.

“This old thing?” I shrugged and spun around.

Preston pointed at Jordan. This is your fault.

“I’m proud of it, Preston,” she shouted. “Now give me a puck!”

Preston stared at Jordan for a beat, his gaze moving up and down before he tossed a puck over the wall. People around us cheered, all clamoring for their own moment with Preston, but he never looked away from Jordan.

“Stop looking at me like that. Get your friends!” She laughed and pointed toward the bench. “Get Quentin!”

Preston blinked, and just like that, his smirk was there. He winked at me before skating back toward the team.

“He’s into you.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Jordan howled with laughter. “Ma’am. Log. Logan Elizabeth. That is ridiculous. No way. Maybe you’re getting wild ideas with all this Quentin nonsense.”

“Mm, no that’s not it.” I grinned happy to talk about her issues and not mine. “Did you see the look he gave you?”

“Sure, but we’re both hot. Preston is hot. Quentin is hot. I check people out all the time. That is so different than being into someone.” Jordan laughed again. “Preston is my best guy. My bro. We’re lifers. Oh, here comes Quentin.”

Sure enough, Quentin skated our way with his familiar green gaze on me. I froze, roots sprouting from my feet as he neared the plexiglass. The second he saw his number, his eyes widened, and the smile I missed the last week returned full force. He pointed at me, hit the wall with his stick, and mouthed mine.

I had no idea if he meant the number was his or if I was… but my face burned with awareness as he scanned my outfit, him mouthing damn.

He took his time checking me out before he stopped at my face and said, “I ’mallinnow”

“What?” I frowned, unable to hear him.

“I’mallin now.”

“You’re… I can’t hear you.”

“You and me.” He pointed to me, then his chest. “All in.”

Oh.

Oh, I understood. My ultimatum from the library. If he said all in… I gasped and brought my hands to my mouth, hope bursting in my gut.

Jordan giggled next to me and slung her arm around me, pointing her finger against the glass. “Grovel.”

“Plan to.”

Then Quentin skated off, leaving me in pieces. “Oh my god, oh my god,” I mumbled, hiding my face in Jordan’s shoulder. “He’s all in? ”

“This is so not the time, but can I just say I called it?” She squeezed me hard before letting out three huge howls—the Wolves battle cry. The entire crowd followed suit, and the energy buzzed in the rink.

Central State fans were known for their support. Orange and blue gear was everywhere. Being at the rink was so different than watching on TV, and an overwhelming gratefulness weaved its way down my limbs. I sighed and hugged Jordan. “I’m so happy were here, doing this.”

“I know.” Jordan kissed the top of my head. “He’s gonna?—”

“No, you and me. We’re living together after talking about it for years. We’re at the game. We’re happy. This was always the dream, and now it’s happening.”

My very goofy, never serious friend stiffened and faced me. “Of course it is, and life is only gonna get better.”

“Love you, Dan Dan.”

“You too, now let’s scream our faces off.”

The game started with the puck drop. The sounds of skates on ice and the slap of the puck filled the air, the consistent murmur of the fans growing louder each period. We played Indiana, and Jordan filled me in on how they were our rivals. Last year, one of the guys got into a fight after the opposing team slept with his sister, so there was a whole thing.

My eyes were on Quentin though.

He belonged on the ice, and watching him caused the warm sensation in my chest to grow. He was beautiful. Perfect. Intense.

His puck control was wild. Preston passed him the puck, and he took off. He bypassed the team’s defense and headed toward the goal.

“Go, Quentin, Go, go, go!”

“Come on, Hawthorne!” Jordan yelled, hitting the glass.

The fans lost it when he scored, not even five minutes into the game. The battle cry echoed off the walls, and my eyes teared up as the team swarmed him in celebration. I expected a huge smile on his face, but instead it was all business. He leaned into the celebration but met my gaze over someone’s shoulder.

He winked.

“Oh my.” Jordan giggled. “That was hot.”

“He’s so good,” I whispered, truly in awe of him. “I’m so proud of him.”

“He’s come a long way since freshmen year. You would’ve hated him then, honestly. He was a punkass and always thought about himself first. He’s different now, and the guys on the team see it too.”

“It’s easy to act like an ass when you don’t like yourself,” I said more to myself than her. “He’s always thinking about others now.”

“Probably has some good influences in his life now, eh?” She nudged her hip against mine.

“No. He wanted to change. He wanted to be better. It’s all him.”

My heart swelled again as they had possession again. Quentin passed the puck to someone else, but they passed it back. Quentin had the shot, but instead of going for it, he passed to Blake, who tried to score and failed.

There wasn’t a second to react though. The puck was back in play, and Quentin intercepted a pass from their defenders, but instead of shooting, he passed it to Liam. Liam didn’t waste a second—he slapped it in for another goal.

Quentin smiled then and celebrated with the team.

Why would this sweet man smile for someone else’s goals but not his? I wanted to throttle him and pull him in for a hug at the same time. Even though we had a lot to work through and talk about, I knew one thing. Quentin needed a cheerleader, someone to force him to pause and be proud.

I wanted to be that person.