Natalie
“Hey, girlie, what’s the word?” Zara smiles up at me.
With a sigh, I drop my bag on the bench across from my roommate and slide in on the other side of the booth with my tray.
Zara has the appearance of a wood sprite. She stands a few inches over five feet and is slender as a wand with mink-colored hair that is short and pixie-like. Not many women could pull off the look, but Zara totally owns it. She may give off the delicate and tiny vibe, but she’ll kick your ass if the occasion calls for it.
I’ve been on the receiving end of her foot more than a few times. It never feels good.
We met the summer before fourth grade when her family moved in down the block from mine. By the time school started, we’d become thick as thieves. I’m lucky to have Zara in my life. She’s a good friend who has been there for me through hell and high water. When my parents’ marriage fell apart nine months ago, it was Zara who picked up the shattered pieces. One month after that, when I discovered that my boyfriend, Reed Collins, was cheating on me, she threatened to cut off his junk. I declined the offer but appreciated the sentiment. Any friend who’s willing to do that is one you hold onto for dear life.
Boys will come and go, girlfriends are forever.
“Annoying,” I huff. Normally I’m able to shake off my run-ins with Brody. But my blood is still boiling from our exchange. “The word for today is ‘annoying.’”
She laughs and spears a piece of lettuce and a cherry tomato with her fork. “Uh-oh, should I even bother to ask?”
“It’s probably better if you don’t.” Plus, I don’t really want to spend time talking about Brody. I pick up a fry and dredge it in ketchup before popping it in my mouth. If I have one weakness, it’s French fries. Coffee is a very close second. “I’m doing my best to forget the entire unpleasant episode.” Which isn’t easy. Brody lingers like a bad stench that’s stuck in your nostrils.
Luke, Zara’s newly-minted boyfriend, slides his big body in next to her.
This is their first public appearance. At least in front of me, it is. I’m not going to go so far as to say they were hiding their relationship from me…
Fine, I’ll say it. They hid their relationship from me.
Zara knows how I feel about the hockey players at this school. Especially after the whole Reed debacle. In fact, I was under the impression we were of one mind on this topic.
Apparently not…Because now she’s dating one.
Luke meets my gaze from across the table. He gives me a chin lift in greeting like I’m one of the guys and us meeting up for lunch is a normal, everyday occurrence. “What’s up, Natalie?”
Ha! As if I would let him off the hook that easily…
I don’t think so.
“You mean, other than my best friend sneaking around behind my back with her new boyfriend?” I bat my eyelashes and give him an innocent look. “Not much. What’s up with you?”
Zara chokes on a laugh, and the edges of Luke’s lips curve into an easy grin.
“Does the fact that you haven’t climbed across the table and strangled me mean we have your stamp of approval?” he asks.
Narrowing my eyes, I point a fry at him. “The jury is still out on that one, buddy.” As I take a sip of my Coke, I give him the hairy eyeball. When I’m finished, I threaten, “Just know that if you screw around on her, I’ll break both your kneecaps. Hockey will be nothing more than a distant, yet fond, memory.”
He gives Zara a sidelong look from the corner of his eye. She shrugs her shoulders as if to say what can you do?
“Consider yourself warned,” I add evilly.
He cocks his head as he picks up his burger. “You’re kind of a scary chick, Davies.”
“Good.” I nod approvingly. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
Even though I’m giving Luke shit, I do like him. Out of all the hockey players Zara could have fallen for, he’s the nicest. Unlike most of his teammates, he doesn’t consider sleeping with the girls on campus to be a competitive sport.
That being said, he does have one fatal flaw that’s difficult to overlook.
Just as I shove another fry in my mouth, a hard body slams into me from the side. I grunt as the force of impact scoots my butt across the wood bench. I’m lucky that I don’t come away with splinters.
“Slide it on over, Clyde,” a deep voice says.
For one dazed moment, I stare in horror.
No. No. No. This can’t be happening.
He isn’t supposed to sit at my table while I’m trying to enjoy lunch with my friend. I’m not supposed to see him until next Monday. At ten o’clock. And not a moment sooner. It’s an unwritten agreement between us. Like a peace accord. And he’s flat-out disregarding it.
“Why in God’s name are you here?” Before he has a chance to respond, I hiss, “Are you stalking me? Is that what’s going on?”
“That depends, would you like me to stalk you?” One side of Brody’s mouth hitches in amusement. “I’ve got a bit of free time I was looking to fill. I could probably slot you in.”
Harnessing all of my energies, I glare and wait for him to burst into flames. I’m disappointed when nothing happens.
“Should I take your silence to mean that you’re in agreement with this plan?” he drawls, looking perfectly at ease.
My eyebrows lower and my shoulders tense. See? He’s only been here for thirty seconds, and already I’m starting to foam at the mouth. This day nosedived in finance class and is now proceeding to explode on impact.
“Why are you here?” I ask again.
Brody lifts his chin toward the only other guy at the table. “Came to hang with my boy.”
My eyes shift to Luke, and I shoot him a sour look.
I may reconsider leaping across the table and strangling him after all.
Luke’s grin intensifies as if he knows exactly what’s running through my head. “So…this is fun, all of us getting together.”
“Sure, it’s as much fun as plucking out my own eyelashes one by one,” I grumble.
Not bothering to ask permission, Brody reaches over and helps himself to a few fries from my plate.
“Um, hello, that’s my lunch.”
He grins and filches another.
I shake my head at his audacity and wave a hand in the direction of my tray. “Please, by all means, help yourself.”
“Thanks, I thought you’d never ask.”
If I’ve learned anything over the three years I’ve known Brody, it’s that I have to stop responding to him or the back and forth will continue indefinitely. He’s like a needy child. One who doesn’t care if it’s positive or negative reinforcement he receives, he just wants attention.
I growl as he steals yet another fry. His dimples flash as he aims a full-wattage smile in my direction. On any other guy, I find dimples adorable. But not on him. As far as Brody McKinnon is concerned, there’s not a damn thing he can do to soften my feelings for him. They’re etched in stone for all of eternity.
Plus, he delights in pissing me off.
How perverse is that?
“Riddle me this, how do you eat this crap and stay so thin?” Even though I’m sitting next to him, his eyes wander up and down the length of me. His perusal brings a sharp sting of heat to my cheeks. “You must have one hell of a metabolism, Davies.”
“My metabolism,” I bite out, “is none of your beeswax. I’m sure you’ve got more pressing matters to think about. Like the number of parties you can hit tonight timed by the number of girls you can mislead into making you a drunken mistake they’ll regret in the morning when they’re racing to the pharmacy for the Plan B pill.” I bat my eyelashes at him. “You know…the important stuff.”
Rather than respond to my insults, he sweeps them aside and ignores them. Looking serious, he points a fry in my direction. “You should treat your body like a temple. It’s the only one you’ve got. Maybe we should get together sometime and go over the importance of proper nutrition.”
I snicker. “Sure, McKinnon. Now, would that involve me showing up at your house and playing a game of hide-the-sausage?”
A huge grin lights up his face, and his shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. “Sure, we can play that while I explain the basic food groups. I always like when you can hit two birds with one stone.”
“The only thing around here that’s going to get hit—”
“All right you two,” Zara snaps. “I’ve had just about enough!” Her glare encompasses both of us. “If you don’t stop this incessant bickering, I’m going to turn this car around, and you’ll both be sorry!”
I give Zara a sullen look and jerk my thumb in Brody’s direction. “He started it.”
“I don’t care who started it,” she says. “I’m gonna end it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mom,” I grumble.
“Good.” She waggles a finger between us. “You two need to learn how to play nice with one another.”
Brody holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m trying to play nice. I’d like to play nice all damn day with her.”
He leers, and I shoot him another hard-edged look.
As much as I like Luke, I could do without his trusty sidekick. When Zara confessed that she was involved with the blond-haired hockey player, I never considered the possibility that Brody and I would occasionally be thrown together.
So, unless I want to stop hanging out with Zara, I’m going to have to find a way to deal with him.
My friend clears her throat. “About this weekend…”
The shift in topic makes me glance expectantly at Zara. When she doesn’t continue, my gaze bounces to Luke and then back to Zara again. For some reason, all three sets of eyes are now focused on me. A sinking sensation fills my belly.
“What?” I tense and meet each of their gazes in turn with a frown. No one says a word. It’s crickets. “What’s going on this weekend?” My current plans include yoga pants and a comfy sweatshirt, binge-watching Netflix, and ordering a large pizza with extra cheese. Other than that, I got nothing.
“Well…” Zara’s voice trails off, and she glances at Luke.
“Just spit it out,” I say. My nightmare just so happens to be sitting next to me. So, how much worse can this get?
“The guys are having a huge blowout at the house on Saturday, and I want you to come with me.”
“Nooooooo,” I moan and slump on the bench.
I should have realized this conversation was going to happen. I’d heard through the grapevine there was going to be a massive party at the hockey house. It’s been plastered all over social media.
“Yeeeeeeees,” she responds.
“Come on, Zar,” I whine pathetically. “Please, don’t make me go. You know how much I hate those things.” I’m not a total stick-in-the-mud. I’ve been to my fair share of parties over the past three years. But hockey parties are a madness all their own. It’s debauchery and binge drinking at its finest. It’s like they’ve ripped a page out of Hugh Hefner’s playbook. All someone needs to do is start wearing a yacht captain’s hat and a burgundy velour bathrobe, and it would resemble the Playboy Mansion during its heyday.
Zara’s voice gentles as if she’s trying to reason with an overtired child in the midst of a full-on tantrum. “I know, sweetie. And I totally get it, I do. But—”
“Then don’t make me do it,” I cut in. She doesn’t need me there. She has Luke. He’ll stick by her side.
“But I need you,” she says.
“Need is an awfully strong word.”
“You’re my best friend and I need you there with me. You know what those girls are like.”
She doesn’t have to specify which girls she’s talking about. The puck bunnies at this school don’t take well to other females honing in on their action.
Zara gives me her best trembly lip and blinky-eyed look. Her technique is perfectly honed from countless years of manipulation. My shoulders slump. I’m moments away from caving. How am I supposed to say no to that face? God, but I hate when she brings out the big guns.
“That’s not fair,” I tell her.
She grins and asks, “Who said life was fair?”
“Now you sound like my mother.”
“I always thought Karen was a smart woman. Anyway, I need my posse by my side when I walk through that door,” she adds after another bite of salad.
“I’m pretty sure people aren’t saying that anymore. I believe the new term is ‘squad.’”
“Fine,” she agrees easily. “I need my squad next to me when I walk in there. Say you’ll come.” She presses her palms together as if in prayer. “Pretty please?”
I don’t want to give in.
I really don’t want to.
“Okay,” I finally relent. “Just don’t give me the trembly lip anymore. I can’t take it.”
“You’ve always been a sucker for that look.”
I pluck the fry from Brody’s fingers and throw it at her. “You’re a manipulative brat, and I hate you.”
She laughs, batting away the potato. “Oh, come on. You love me.”
True. But I’m not going to tell her that.
“Hey,” Brody complains. “I was eating that!”
Picking up another fry, I pelt it at him. I’m tempted to throw the entire plate.