Page 51 of Unloved

“Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I’m just frustrated.”

“We can talk about something else,” I say. I feel like I would do anything to erase the defeated, angry look on his face.

“Okay. How about: When did you and Donaldson start dating again?”

Anything but that, please. Desperate to please him, I answer, “We aren’t. We just… He asked me to hang out this weekend. On… a date.”

He nods, crossing his arms tightly. “Like the date where he stood you up?”

“Freddy—”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“He wants to make it up to me.”I think.

Tyler asked me to spend Saturday with him, to take a little day trip. He said it was going to be a surprise, but that it would be good for us to get closer and enjoy time together uninterrupted.

I still feel the same, confused and frightened of every possible outcome, but I agreed.

Though I regret it slightly now, a twinge of wrongness striking my stomach as I admit my agreement to Freddy.

“As long as you’re happy, Rosalie.” He smiles, but it’s the mask one he always uses with everyone else. My stomach sinks further.

But I match his mask with one of my own and lie. “Yeah. I’m happy.”

CHAPTER 19Ro

“You said we were spending the day together, just us.”

Idespisethe whining timbre of my voice echoing in the car.

“Change of plans,” Tyler says coolly, watching the GPS carefully. “The guys from the Academic Bowl team here got us tickets, so we’re meeting up with them. I told Rodger, Mark, and Davis to Uber here and I’d drive us all home.”

His cutting gaze slides to my stiff form in the passenger seat as his hand settles on my upper thigh with a barely there squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Ro,” he whispers before smiling. “About missing our date last time. But this is better, right?”

It isn’t, really, but I nod anyway.

“Thanks, babe.” Tyler leans in and kisses my cheek before saying, “Mind hopping in the back? You’re skinny, so we can squeeze everyone in.”

And because I’m pathetic and have lost every inch of my backbone, I do. Which means, when we pick up the guys, I’m stuck between Mark and Davis in the backseat, Rodger sitting in the front. It’s my personal hell, especially with Mark’s continued sharp comments (and equally sharp elbow “accidentally” hitting my abdomen) all snidely directed toward me.

“Excited to see your favorite student?”

I want to snap back at him, but hold my tongue. I’ll give him nothing.

The truth is, Iamhappy about the change of plans for that reason alone: that I get to watch Freddy play hockey. There’s a giddy rush to my steps from the car all the way until we grab our decent seats in the arena.

I’m the only girl, and not a single one of the guys—from Waterfell or the Vermont school—attempts to chat with me. Which feels like a strange sort of blessing.

Especially once I see Freddy emerge onto the ice, following Bennett and Rhys.

The arena is fairly empty—an early exhibition game not drawing as many students as I’m sure an in-season, high-stakes game might. Which means that it takes barely a minute for someone to spot me—the hulking goalie, who grabs Freddy by the scruff and turns him toward me.

I can’t help the beaming smile and wave I shoot his way from my spot three rows up. His brows dip before his eyes meet mine and a bright, breathtaking grin spreads across his face, deepening the lines in his cheeks. He skates a little closer to the glass and taps it with his stick with a wink.

“I’m just gonna say hi,” I mumble, tripping over the seats with my long legs, hopping over the two rows separating me from the glass. Tyler murmurs something rude that gets a laugh, but I ignore it, drawn to the smiling boy with his helmet off.

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