Page 54 of The Puckable Playbook

“If she wants to stay, Z and I can take her back.”

Most of me wants to do that, but that seems inappropriate, doesn’t it? I second guess myself. I came here with Clark. Staying with two hockey players is a bad idea.

Twohockeyplayers.Ugh, what am I doing?

Clark’s my date and he said I’m drunk, so we should get going if he wants to. It’s only right. Natural. Normal, even.

How many more adjectives can I come up with for natural?

I giggle, and now two guys are looking at me like I’ve lost it.

Scooting down the booth, I stand, grabbing the table so I don’t look like I’m drunk and do something extra embarrassing like fall over in front of everyone. I don’t need to be showing everyone my hoo-ha in this tight dress.

“Drunk Lenore Bares All” would make a funny headline, though.

I smile but hold back a little so I don’t have to spout the inner workings of my mind.

“We can take care of her,” Adam offers, moving in front of us and effectively blocking the exit.

“It’s cool,” Clark states, this time a little more forcefully.

I pat Adam’s arm. “Rain check on that dance. Then maybe I can convince you to burn that photo you have of me.”

“It’s digital. You can’t burn it,” Clark states.

Irritation slithers up my spine. “Metaphorically.”

Ignoring Adam altogether, Clark grabs my elbow and helps maneuver me through the crowd, but it’s not as stable as when Zaiah had my hips. Now that felt good. I can still feel his steady hands on me.

“Should we say bye to Zaiah?” I shout.

“I’m sure his pal will tell him.”

I laugh. “You saidhis pal.”

Despite Clark’s words, I search for him, and I’m pretty sure I spot him dancing with a girl.

Immediately, I turn away, swallowing. For some reason, my steps are more confident as I walk toward the exit.

The ride from Longville back to my dorm goes by in a blur. Clark isn’t talkative at all, so I keep replaying everything that happened over and over. First, through my eyes. Then, through Clark’s. Then finally, through Zaiah’s.

He had no problem dropping me for someone else. Which he should, really. But that probably means Clark was right. I was too drunk. I was embarrassing.

Clark pulls up to the curb by the front door and doesn’t even put the car in Park. I freeze for a moment. He’s not going to walk me up to the suite?

“My parents are coming to visit in the morning, so…”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, fiddling with the doorknob. “What time should I be ready?”

“For?”

“To meet your parents.”

“Oh. Um…”

Oh shit. He wasn’t going to invite me. Jesus. I should throw myself off a bridge right now. Of course he doesn’t want me there.

“You know what? I’m going to bed,” I tell him, pushing the car door open. “See you.”

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