Booker finishes his drink and glances at his watch. “That was way easier than I thought it’d be, so I’ve got some time before my next class. I’m gonna head over to the library and see if Fallon’s still studying for her Calc test.” He stands, pushes in his chair, and tosses his trash. “Catch you guys later.”
“See ya,” Mickey calls over his shoulder before turning his attention back to me as he taps his chin like he’s in deep thought. “Your white hoodie,” he says, with no further explanation.
I sigh. “I just got that.” Mickey dragged me to the outlet mall a couple days ago because he was on a quest for new kicks. I’m not much of a shopper, but I found a deal and bought it. Mick’s been pissed ever since because it’s a sick sweatshirt and he’s jealous.
“Just for Friday,” he offers.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But?—”
“Dishes for a week?”
“Deal,” I agree.
Santos is watching us, his gaze pinging back and forth like he’s at a tennis match. “Is this what Van and I sound like? An old married couple who finish each other’s sentences?”
My eyes meet Mickey’s, then dart back to Santos. “Welearned it from watching you,” we joke in chorus, making Santos groan.
“Seriously, though, if you want any favors from Norris, now’s the time to ask,” Mickey says. “He’s in a good fucking mood this week, and thank Christ for that. You were a pissy little bitch after that pool party at Kappa.”
I roll my eyes, but I know he speaks the truth. I was in a funk for a bit after Maggie left me naked and alone in…a borrowed bathtub. My crappy mood took a nosedive after that call from Griggs. But things are looking up. I mustered up the balls to call my lawyer—and yes, I have a lawyer. That tends to happen after you get arrested. It took Doug Sterns, Esq. about five minutes to find out that Curt is up for parole, but that it’s highly unlikely it’ll be granted. According to Sterns, Curt doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out before his five years are up. Apparently, he’s been as much of a menace behind bars as he was on the street. That doesn’t surprise me at all.
It probably cost me a couple hundred bucks for that answer, but every penny was worth it. I’ve been able to sleep this week. I know the day will eventually come that he’s released, but if what Sterns said is true, it’ll be a few more years down the road. I’ll be playing for the Bruisers by then, and able to afford the priciest lawyers around to ensure that a dumb mistake I made at seventeen isn’t going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Because I was a minor at the time, my record’s sealed, so I’m not worried about the media getting ahold of old news. What I want—no, what I need— is as much distance between me and my asshole cousin as possible.
But all that’s a worry for a day in the future, and I’m not in the business of borrowing trouble. Right now, life’s pretty good. My classes aren’t too demanding yet, the hockey house is still standing, and I’m the starting goalie for one of the best college hockey teams in the country.
Things could be a hell of a lot worse, so I’m going to enjoy the good while it lasts.
And I will definitely not think about how much better life could be if my Cinderella hadn’t smashed and dashed.
Nope, not gonna think about Maggie at all.
CHAPTER 13
JT
Ok,I’m thinking about Maggie. But it’s not my fault. She’s right here in the dining hall and it’s impossible to tear my gaze away.
Fuck, she looks good today—even better than she did at the party, if that’s possible. Her hair’s up in one of those claw clips and she’s got leggings on that mold to every curve on her body. Her t-shirt’s got to be three sizes too big, but the way it slopes over her shoulder gives me the perfect view of her creamy skin and lacy bra strap. Her feet are in sneakers instead of those sky-high heels she busted and given the fact that she seems to be walking just fine, I’m guessing ice and elevation did the trick to heal her ankle.
My eyes catch hers and I give her half a smile. I’m aiming for somewhere in between a cheesy, picture-day grin and a mugshot. Damn. Either I miscalculated or Maggie hasn’t been daydreaming about our night together the way I have. She stares back at me, eyes wide. She blinks once and seems a little horrified to notice I’m still here. Granted, I’m twenty feet away, but based on her reaction, I’m thinking more distance is better.
Well, that sucks.
Shaking off the rejection, I take the hint, grab another tray, and head for the pasta line at the back of the cafe. There are at least a dozen people ahead of me, so I make quick work of my turkey wrap while I wait.
In about an hour, my team will commandeer a couple tables over by the windows, just like they did yesterday. My schedule doesn’t line up with anyone else’s on Mondays and Wednesdays, so I get a little time to myself over lunch today. Ollie was bummed, but I’m not heartbroken. I love these guys like brothers, but I need a little space every now and then, especially since we all live together. I know they think I’m antisocial and that Pete’s probably worried I’m too much of a loner, but I blame it on the way I grew up. I never had my own bedroom. I couch surfed a lot, or shared space with whatever poor relation was unlucky enough to get saddled with me for a couple months. Hell, for most of my senior year, I slept on a mattress in the hallway of my cousin’s apartment. Having a forty-five-minute stretch of time to eat and unwind by myself is not a bad thing.
For a second, my thoughts drift back to Maggie. If she’d approached me a few minutes ago or even returned my smile, I wouldn’t mind spending my lunch break with her, but?—
“Dude, the line is moving. It’s your turn.”
I look up from my plate to see a skinny guy with a mullet gesturing to the open space in front of me.
“My bad,” I answer, taking a few steps forward to put my tray on the line. Seconds later, it’s loaded up with a serving of lasagna. I nod my thanks and skip the garlic bread in favor of a plate of steamed broccoli. I catch mullet guy rolling his eyes at me, but I take no offense. Adding a plate of veggies to my laden trays must seem to him like the equivalent of ordering a diet soda with your double cheeseburger and chili fries. It’s a lot of food, yes, but I’ll burn it off later this afternoon and be back for more by dinnertime.
My eyes scan the room for a quiet place to sit, and that’swhen I see her. Maggie’s looking right at me and her expression is far from horrified. I move my head, like I’m searching the space for a seat, but I’m clocking her the whole time. And she’s definitely clocking me.
Interesting.
