Bless this man. He’s playing along and he doesn’t even know it. I’m about to toss out some bullshit about light temperatures, but I’m distracted by the parade of douche canoes traipsing across the lobby. It’s not just your average bro line, either. This one has Shane Lowery at the helm. He shoots the guys an upnod and then focuses his attention on me. I have no doubt he’s pissed that I blew the whistle on his little assignment-stealing operation. But what’s that saying?Play stupid games, win the wrath of a strong-willed woman.Yeah, it’s something like that.
“You setting your sights on the hockey team, now, Claire? Are you just gonna pick off the teams one by one? Is that your plan?”
Pete’s off the bench and by my side before Shane’s done talking. I can appreciate the assist, but I don’t need it.
Squaring my shoulders, I look at Shane directly. We’re about the same height, so it’s easy to meet his gaze. “Is my plan to call out cheating when I see it? Favoritism? To let Bainbridge students know when the playing field is far from fair? Yeah, Shane, as a journalist, that’s part of my plan. Look at you cracking the code.”
Pete’s hand wraps around my shoulder and I can’t quite tell if he’s offering comfort or getting ready to hold me back from punching this idiot in the mouth.
Shane’s eyes widen as he notices the gesture. “What thehell is this? Are you fucking with the enemy, Santos? Do you have any idea the shitstorm she stirred up?”
I can feel Pete’s body stiffen beside me. “Claire’s not an enemy—” he starts, but Shane cuts him off.
“Are you taking her fucking side?”
“How about you watch your fucking mouth,” Mickey says, coming to stand on my other side.
Shane shakes his head and turns to his buddies. “Do you see this shit?”
“Just back off,” Ollie says, joining the little line we’ve formed. From the corner of my eye, I notice that Jenksy hasn’t moved.
“No,” Shane says, “I want to know what the hell the hockey boys are doing with Claire Fowler. What’s got you all stepping in to defend our intrepid little reporter?”
“I don’t need defending,” I say, but Mickey interjects, stepping forward to face Shane.
“We’ve got Claire’s back. That’s all you need to know.”
“Why?” Shane persists, and though he’s an absolute dickhole, he’s asking a valid question. I’m curious, too.
Before I can tell him to mind his own business or Pete can formulate a response, Ollie pipes up. “Because she’s Pete’s girlfriend. And that makes her family.”
18
Pete
Suddenly, I feel like I’m in a cartoon where everything is exaggerated. I’m sure my eyes are bugging out of my head the way Claire’s are, and the Student Union lobby goes eerily quiet while people around us take in Ollie’s announcement.
Shane looks like a fish with his mouth hanging open, and Ollie’s ridiculous lie is the bait that snagged him.
I knew my guys would stand up for Claire because no one deserves the kind of shit Shane was dishing out.
But Ollie took it to a whole new level.
And I have no clue why.
Shane shakes his head and stalks off with the assholes he calls friends. Claire darts into the makeshift photography studio like she can’t wait to get away from me, and Mickey and Jenksy follow her in. I guess it makes sense she’d want to get started. I’m not sure how legit this calendar is gonna end up being, but she’s been here almost an hour already and doesn’t have anything to show for it.
“You’re welcome,” Ollie says, holding his fist out for a bump.
“For what?” I say, keeping my hands to myself. “For the kick to the balls I’m about to get from Claire because of the fucking bomb you just dropped?”
Ollie laughs. “That’s more details than I need, you kinky bastard. Actually, I’m the kinky bastard. Give me all the details. You like pain?”
“There are no details,” I say quietly. “We’re not together. You made that shit up. And why?”
Olle pins me with a look he’s famous for. It’s the one he gives us when he can’t believe we don’t recognize his genius. It’s part offended, part frustrated, and a whole lot disappointed. “Santos,” he begins, like he’s trying to explain something simple to a small child. “Half the damn campus has it out for Claire, and it’s just getting worse. She needs somebody on her side, and newsflash, Cap, it’s you. Think about it. Besides the fact that you’ve got a massive crush on her, you’re the perfect guy for the job. Nobody’s gonna mess with you—or her—because you’re everybody’s favorite guy around here.”
“Not Claire’s,” I say, and dammit, the words smart.
