Page 65 of Stick It
So best to simply avoid, avoid, avoid.
I actually ended up having a good time. In a bid to evade my roommates and Griffin, and Kyle and his minions, I sat at a table with a bunch of juniors I’ve barely spoken a word to before. Instead of offhand comments about my being on the team and not-so-subtle glares at my presence at their table, they easily drew me into their conversation about what teams they think will pick up Cam Fowler now that his tenure with the Anaheim Ducks is nearing its end.
It ended up being a surprisingly good evening, but that still doesn’t mean I’m not nervous as Wren links her arm through mine and practically drags me into the cafeteria. I already regret telling her what Ethan said about how I should give the team a chance. She immediately packed up her belongings in the library and ushered me out of my quiet sanctuary.
“Ican’t believe you’re making me do this,” I grumble.
“Yes, yes.” Wren waves away my foul attitude like it’s nothing more than a bad smell in the air. “I know you’d far rather hide away in your cave of solitude.”
“I don’t hide,” I protest.
Wren simply gives me a look.
Exhaling through my nose, I say nothing as the cafeteria doors close behind us. The place is packed with athletes—hockey players, football players, a few members of the swim team. The hockey guys have taken over a long table near the center of the room, their loud and obnoxious behavior drawing many eyes from around the room, including mine.
I scour the table as we step in line to grab our food, spotting Finn first. I groan at the sight of the blonde puck bunny practically in his lap. My only saving grace is that Finn doesn’t seem to be paying her any attention, too absorbed in his conversation with the player on his other side.
Ripping my gaze away before the sight of her clinging to him like a leech can put me off my lunch, I decide to forgo the plates of hot food and grab a chicken salad wrap instead, before leading the way over to the hockey players’ table. If I’m doing this, I might as welldoit. Noting Griffin’s and Jax’s positions around the table, I opt for the empty seat at the end of the row beside Ethan.
Leo, one of the second-liners I was chatting with on Saturday, is sitting opposite him, and he lifts his chin in greeting as I sit down. Noticing Wren behind me, he gives her a friendlysmile before sliding down a seat and immediately pulling her into conversation.
“Good to see you’ve come out of hiding,” Ethan murmurs low enough for only me to hear.
“I was nothiding,” I hiss between gritted teeth. “The testosterone is too much to deal with twenty-four seven. A girl needs a break sometimes, you know?”
His lips quirk up in a teasing smirk. “Can’t say I do. Being part of the testosterone problem and all,” he retorts dryly.
I blink, caught off guard. It’s not the response I expected from him, not from Captain Control. “Wow.” I gasp, feigning shock. “Was that…a joke?”
He rolls his eyes, but I catch the glint of humor in his pale blue depths.
“Who knew you were capable of one?”
His smirk returns, sharper this time, with a hint of something else beneath it. Leaning in, his voice is pitched lower than before as he says, “I’m capable of a lot of things that you don’t know about.”
A flicker of heat curls low in my stomach. My pulse stutters.
Was that…flirting? FromEthan?
I study him, trying to read the line of his mouth, the look in his eyes—but, as always, he gives nothing away.
“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises, Captain.”
Flashing me a grin, he stuffs the end of his sandwich into his mouth, and I turn my focus to unwrapping mine.
I’m chewing on my first bite when I sense someone watching me. Glancing up, my gaze collides with Griffin’s from farther down the table. He’s talking to the guy next to him, but his attention is locked on me. When I catch him staring, he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing like he’s sizing me up—and liking what he sees.
Heat flickers low in my stomach, sharp and unwelcome. Mybreath catches before I can stop it, and for a second, I forget to look away.
I rip my gaze from his, frowning.What the hell is that?I seriously have no idea what is up with that guy or why he keeps looking at me like that, like he’s daring me to look back. Or why it always feels like my body’s two seconds behind my brain every time he does.
Turning to say something to the player seated opposite him, Finn stops mid-sentence, his jaw tightening when he notes mine and Wren’s presence at the table. And then, because he’s the definition of an emotionally stunted caveman, he turns his full attention to the blonde still draped over him. She practically has hearts in her eyes as she soaks up every second of his focus like it’s a spotlight, her hand sliding up the front of his chest to wrap around the back of his neck as he lowers his head.
His eyes flash to mine at the last second, and I sneer, flipping him the middle finger.What an asshole. Finn’s smirk is smug before he buries his face in the side of her neck.
I gag—loudly—the sound one hundred percent fake. Yup, not even a little bit real as I mentally shove the memory of his lips on mine out of my mind. Forever.
Unfortunately, though, the noise garners the blonde’s attention. She turns, flipping her long, perfectly straight hair over her shoulder as her eyes narrow on me. It takes a second, but then recognition clicks.
