Page 13 of Guarded Love

"You good?" Hailey asks. "You seem...tense."

“I swear, I’m fine.” Was there a neon sign attached to my forehead flashing "emotionally compromised" for everyone to see? "Just not a sports fan." That’s a lie too, but I hope she doesn’t catch on.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to admit when something's bothering you," Hailey says, her voice matter-of-fact and telling me she means business. "It's not like I'm going to run and tell Knox or something."

Dammit. I fidget with the end of my scarf. Hailey isn't one for small talk or beating around the bush, which is usually refreshing. Right now, it feels like being cornered.

"Nothing's bothering me except the cold and that guy screaming in my ear," I insist.

Hailey gives me a look that says she's not buying it but mercifully drops the subject as we inch forward in line. The concession stand is packed with people seeking overpriced food and drinks.

"So how are things with the newspaper?" she asks instead.

"Good. I’m almost done with my latest article. Just need to interview a few more students about the proposed campus housing changes."

"Let me guess, the administration is claiming it's for student benefit while actually just finding new ways to charge more money."

"Pretty much." I nod. "Classic Crestwood move."

"You'd think they'd at least try to be subtle about it," Hailey says, shaking her head. "But nope. It’s the same story everywhere all over the country."

"At least it gives me something to write about." I shuffle forward as the line moves. "My editor loves when I go after the administration. Says it gets the most engagement online."

Hailey smirks. "The Willow Sanchez takedown special. Always a crowd pleaser."

"I prefer to think of it as holding people accountable," I say, although I can't help but grin. My articles have developed quite a reputation on campus, especially among the student body. Even some of the professors quietly encourage my investigative pieces, though they'd never admit it publicly.

We finally reach the front of the line, and I order the drinks while Hailey digs in her wallet for cash. As we wait for our order, I scan the area, a habit I've developed to avoid awkward run-ins with people I've written about. Instead, my eyes land on something worse.

My stomach plummets as I spot my ex-boyfriend, Leo Kent, standing near the merchandise booth with a small crowd around him.

The high school football-player-turned-streamer is commanding attention like he always does and the first thing I notice is his signature backward cap and perfectly styled hair visible even from here. I duck behind Hailey without even thinking about it.

"What are you doing?" Hailey asks, frowning as I try to make myself smaller.

"Leo's here," I whisper, peering around her shoulder.

“Who is Leo?”

“My ex. Just…make sure he doesn’t see me. I don’t want to deal with him right now.” Not on top of everything else, but I leave that part unsaid.

Hailey jerks her head to look at me over her shoulder. It’s then I see that she finally connects the dots. "Wait, you dated Leo Kent? The YouTube guy?"

"Streamer," I correct automatically, then grimace. "And yes. It was a mistake. One I'd rather not revisit tonight or ever."

Hailey casually shifts her position to better shield me while pretending to check her phone. "I didn't know he went here."

"He doesn't," I mutter, peeking around her shoulder again. "He graduated from Westlake U last year. Which begs the question of why he's at a Crestwood hockey game."

I peer over Hailey’s shoulder and Leo is still standing there. He’s using the smile that he practiced over and over again in the mirror. The one that used to make my heart race. Now it just makes me feel slightly nauseated. He's wearing a fitted black jacket that probably cost more than my tuition, designer jeans, and those ridiculous limited-edition sneakers he was always posting about. A couple of girls are taking selfies with him while he flashes his trademark peace sign.

"Orders for Hailey and Willow!" the barista calls out.

"I'll get it," Hailey says. "Stay here."

As Hailey collects our drinks, I walk away and lean against a wall that is out of the way of the crowd. I feel ridiculous, but since I’m desperate to avoid a confrontation, I have no choice. I pull out my phone and pretend to be deeply engrossed in something important. Maybe if I look busy enough, even if he spots me, he'll keep his distance.

No such luck.

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