Page 68 of Stay
So, yeah. I bet Cole is totally into her.
Who wouldn’t be?
They certainly looked all cozy sitting together in Psychology yesterday. It also explains why he hasn’t bothered to call or text.
I can only gnash my teeth together. At this very moment, I’m being eaten alive by jealousy.
With a grumble under my breath, I toss my bag into the trunk of her rundown Honda Civic before slipping into the front seat beside her.
“Hey,” she says with a grin before pulling away from the curb at breakneck speed.
My wide gaze flies to hers as a devilish smile curves her lips. All thoughts of Cole and her together disappear as I grab the oh-shit bar as she squeals around a corner.
“Holy crap, are you trying to kill us?” I gasp as she continues to pick up speed.
Oh my god, my life is literally flashing before my eyes as she takes another corner.
“I like to drive offensively,” she says with a laugh. “And I like speed.”
Her gaze locks on mine.
With my heart lodged in the middle of my throat, I point to the pavement that feels like it’s hurtling toward us at warp speed. “Look at the road, look at the road!”
My gut roils. Any minute, I’m going to be sick.
“Jeez, Cassidy.” She shakes her head. “Calm down. I’m actually a really good driver. I’ve never been the cause of a major accident.”
The cause of…
A major accident?
Oh crap.
The arena is only five miles away, and we arrive in record time. Oblivious to the fact that I’m in the midst of a heart attack, Sammy chats about the girls on the team, practice schedule, and travel dates. Since this is an intramural team, the university doesn’t provide transportation, and we need to arrange our own rides. Even though Sammy offers to drive me to all the games, I decide that I need to make friends fast with the other players.
I would die if I had to ride with her and Cole to a game.
No.
Way.
In.
Hell.
Just as we slam to a stop in the parking lot, she fires off questions, asking me about my hockey background. I can’t help but freeze up, not wanting to give her too much information. As we walk into the arena and change into our hockey gear, I give her a Cliffs Notes version of my hockey career, making sure to gloss over my college experience, which means I don’t tell her about it at all. By the end of my spiel, she seems satisfied, and we begin warmups by circling the ice.
The ninety-minute practice is over in the blink of an eye. Just like last time, it feels so good to lose myself in the drills and scrimmage. I pour all my heartache, uncertainty, and anger at myself onto the ice.
By the time it’s over, I’m a sweaty, exhausted mess. I huff and puff my way off the ice, hoping I’ll be tired enough to fall into bed and sleep without dreaming of Cole.
My stomach twists into knots as I walk toward Sammy’s car before sliding onto the passenger seat. Before I can mentally prepare myself for the roller coaster that is Sammy’s driving, we’re hurtling toward campus. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the fact that I keep my eyes tightly closed, but her driving doesn’t make me nearly as nauseous as the ride to the rink.
“Do you want me to drop you off at Cole’s?”
My eyelids fly open as my head snaps around. “What?”
God no. I think about the text message I sent and his brief, impersonal response.
