Page 78 of Stay
“Hey, look who decided to pop over for a visit. It’s my phantom roommate.” Even though these words are muttered, they’re still loud enough for me to hear.
I hesitate over the threshold before closing the door behind me. My gaze settles on Brooklyn as she sits in the middle of her bed and paints her toenails. Unsure what the issue is, I hover near the exit and wonder if it’s too late to retreat.
The corners of her lips sink into a frown as she continues to ignore me.
With a sigh, I set my leather bag on the floor beside my desk before settling on my twin bed. She doesn’t spare me a glance, which only reinforces my suspicions that she’s pissed at me.
As I comb through my thoughts, I realize I haven’t seen or spoken to Brooklyn in a couple of days. I’ve spent the past few nights with Cole, and have been on the go with class, practice, and tutoring.
The last time we spoke, everything was fine. By the look on her face, that’s no longer the case.
As Brooklyn applies a second coat of eye-popping blue polish to her nails, she blinks a few times as if focusing her attention on thetask. A frown creases my brow. It almost looks like she’s about to burst into tears.
But how can that be?
Brooklyn never cries. She’s usually over-the-top-happy.
Unless she’s hung over.
Then, not so much.
I rise to my feet before gingerly settling next to her on the bed and laying a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Brook. You look upset.”
When she finishes up, she tightens the cap on her polish before setting the bottle on the table and swinging toward me. As her gaze catches mine, I see an ocean of sadness swimming around within their depths.
“When you called to tell me that you were leaving Dartmouth and applying at Western, I knew something must have happened. I mean, come on, who leaves Dartmouth midway through the year?” She allows that question to hang in the air for a long moment.
Something painful coils in the pit of my gut. Unable to hold her gaze, I drop mine to my fingers that are twisting the hem of my sweater. When I remain silent, she continues. “At the same time, I was excited you were going to be here, and we could get to know each other all over again. You know, be friends the way we used to be before hockey took over your life.”
I shake my head, offering up a weak protest. “I never pushed our friendship to the side for hockey.” At least, it had never been a conscious decision on my part. Unfortunately, the older I got, the more time-consuming hockey and training became.
She levels me with a hard stare. “But that’s the way it felt. You were always busy with your teams. And then there was school and your family. Over the years, we drifted apart. I don’t blame you.” Her gaze slides to the large picture window of our dorm room. “It’s just something that happened.”
“No matter what, I always considered you my closest friend.” Anxiety swirls through me as my fingers tangle together, fidgeting with the soft fabric.
Disregarding the comment, she says, “When you decided to transfer here, I thought we’d finally get a chance to mend our friendship, but that hasn’t worked out. If you’re not with Cole, you’re playing hockey or tutoring. There’s never time for us to just hang out.”
I suck in a deep breath and consider what she’s just unloaded on me. As difficult as it is to admit, she’s right. I allowed our friendship to fall by the side of the road when we were younger, and now, I’m making the same mistake. I’ve become too wrapped up in Cole, hockey, classes, and tutoring. I’m trying to juggle everything, but obviously, I haven’t been making enough time for Brooklyn.
“I’m sorry, Brook. I didn’t realize you felt this way and just assumed you were spending all your free time with Austin.”
Her shoulders collapse as she breaks eye contact and stares down at her freshly polished nails. “I was.” She shrugs. It’s just a little jerk of her shoulders, but I feel the words coming before she gives voice to them. “We broke up two days ago.”
It’s official. I’m definitely a shitty friend. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own life that I haven’t been paying attention to what’s been happening with Brooklyn.
“I’m so sorry.” Hesitantly, I ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Tears pool in her green eyes before she swipes the moisture away. “I caught him kissing someone else.”
“You did?” My mouth falls open. There’s no way that can be true. Austin is crazy about Brooklyn, and everyone knows it. I can’t imagine him cheating on her.
Misery swamps her features as I wrap my arms around her.
“I’m so sorry. He seemed so into you.” I give her a little squeeze before silently vowing to be a better friend.
Brooklyn sniffs before giving a watery laugh that’s just a shade above bitter. “Yeah, well, I guess he wasn’t into me enough. It’s those freaking hockey whores, always hanging around the house. There’s five or six of them that get passed around between the guys. Don’t they have a single shred of self-respect or dignity?” Crystal-looking tears shimmer on her long lashes.
A lot of the men’s teams on campus have die-hard groupies who want nothing more than the notoriety of saying they’d slept their way through the roster.
