Page 19 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

“I’m leaving, actually,” I said, jumping up. “You don’t have to move.”

Wariness filled every groove of his face, and clearly that magical we-discover-we’re-perfect-for-each-other daydream had become more of a this-girl’s-a-psycho nightmare for him.

I shoved my notebook into my bag and rushed out of the library, my nerves still bouncing across my skin, making it feel too tight.Setbacks aren’t unusual when it comes to experiments—every good chemist knows that. Gotta power through and try again.

And trample some other poor unsuspecting guy.

With a sigh, I pushed out of the library. Looked like I could use some more tips from Beck, followed by a practice session or ten with Whitney.

Or maybe I should just quit before I stabbed someone’s eye out.

…

Ice is cold. It’s something I knew, being very into science and, you know, as a person over the age of three. But I wasn’t expecting the seats of the hockey arena to be quite so chilly.

This is what I get for ditching my scarves. Now I freeze everywhere I go.My outfit was much cuter without the coat, but I was too chilly to entirely ditch it, so I decided to go with unzipped, which at least kept it from puffing up around me. Getting a cold and having a runny nose and hacking cough wouldn’t help me out right now. Especially since I managed to screw up everythingwithoutthose fabulous side effects.

Most everyone in the rest of the crowd was in groups or couples, so I felt a little odd sitting alone, but luckily I was used to that feeling. And who knew? Maybe afterward Beck could introduce me to his teammates. If one of them had lost a tooth or two, he might even be in my league. A nice perv, as Beck put it.

I laughed to myself, furthering the look of Crazy Loner Girl.

Music pumped through the speakers, and the team skated onto the ice.So which one is Beck?Finally I saw a jersey withdavenportat the top—he was number seven. The helmet made it hard enough to make out his features that I wasn’t sure I would’ve been able to tell it was him without the helpful labeling.

I stood, wondering how much of a nerd I’d be if I shouted his name and waved. With the commotion, he probably wouldn’t hear it or see me. After crashing and burning with Sebastian, I’d had a moment where I thought I should just skip the game, change into my pajamas, and watch a movie while pounding back raw cookie dough. Despite being solo, I was happy I’d sucked it up, put on an extra coat of mascara and lip gloss, and driven down here. Because with the energy in the air, the zing of skates against the ice, and experiencing firsthand what Beck had always talked about so excitedly, it didn’t feel like I was alone.

He was everywhere I looked, and that made me feel like he was next to me, which always had a way of making the stress in my life disappear. His blue eyes flashed into my mind, the intense way he’d looked at me last night, and the warmth that flooded me took the edge off the cold.

I bit my lip and told myself friends could make you feel warmth like that. When my brain immediately argued it was a different kind of heat, I picked up my soda and sipped half of it down, hoping the bubbles and sugar rush would keep me from examining that line of thought too closely.

Chapter Twelve

Beck

I tried to play it cool and not look for Lyla—if she didn’t come, it was fine. It’s not like I needed her here to cheer me on. Even back in high school, my parents only made it to a few games. There were always other events going on at the same time, or business trips to prepare for instead. Megan had dragged her friends to almost every one, though, and when it came to trash talking, my little sister had a gift. She also had one of those whistles that took out people’s eardrums. My teammates used to laugh about how they’d never expected so much noise to come from such a little girl.

I smiled at that, thinking Megan would’ve been pissed if she knew they called her a little girl, especially since she’d had crushes on half the team.

“What was last night about?” Jeff asked me as we slowed our pace—we wanted to be warm, not exhausted. “Why’d you tell me to hit on your girlfriend?”

“My girlfriend?” I frowned. “That’d be some messed up shit.”

His eyebrows arched, as if to say,You’re telling me, dude.

Another loud song started, making me have to shout to be heard over the noise.

“She’s just a friend. It was her first big college party, and she was nervous. I thought having you talk to her would make her feel better.”

“She was hanging all over you. I thought you guys were doing some weird… I don’t know. Role-playing thing to spice up your night or some shit.”

Spice up our night? As if I’d need role-playing to keep a girl interested. “She was drunk and wearing heels. She was trying not to fall over, and I was making sure she didn’t.” I fought back another flash of being on the dance floor, when I’d used the excuse of not letting her fall to pull her against me. I gripped my hockey stick harder, focusing on it so I wouldn’t let my thoughts run away with me. “Like I said, we’re just friends.”

“Well, she’s definitely hot,” Jeff yelled. The coach eyed us, and we skated back toward the center of the ice. “So it won’t be weird if I ask her out?”

I clenched my teeth, breathing through my nose to stifle the irritation the suggestion brought on. “Not weird. But she’s my friend, so don’t bother if you’re gonna be an ass to her.” Since I now felt the urge to hit something, I took a practice swing. Without the puck flying through the air, it wasn’t as satisfying as I’d hoped. As I looped around the goal, I replayed the part of last night when I’d carried Lyla to my bedroom. She’d been saying the most random things.

Ooh, you have a cool alarm clock.

Wow, I bet these are, like, super-high-thread-count sheets. They feel like silk on my legs.Which had made me think about her bare legs and how soft her skin had felt when I’d brushed it picking her up.

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