Page 33 of Pucking Matt
I check my own phone, a twinge of guilt hitting me as I think about Harvey. “No, he didn't.”
As we stand there, sipping our drinks and waiting for the hockey players to arrive, I can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and unease. More alcohol, please.
As the door opens and the first group of players enters, I take a deep breath.
I watch with a mix of anticipation and amusement as Matt walks through the door. Right on cue, the girls I recruited rush over to him. This is going to be good.
Matt's reaction is priceless. His eyes widen, and he takes a step back, clearly caught off guard. “Whoa, whoa. Hey, what's going on?” I hear him say, his voice a mix of confusion and wariness.
The girls lay it on thick, showering him with compliments and over-the-top flirtation. The pink-haired girl is particularly enthusiastic, practically draping herself over Matt as she gushes about his performance on the ice. I have to stop laughing at the look on his face.
As Matt is swept away by his newfound admirers, I notice Harvey watching the scene. He turns towards us, but something's off. He's not making eye contact with me, focusing solely on Jen as he approaches. A knot forms in my stomach.
“Great game tonight,” I say, trying to break the ice.
Harvey just shrugs, barely glancing at me. “Thanks,” he mumbles, before turning back to Jen and asking her about the party.
I start analyzing his behavior. The avoidance of eye contact, the sudden coldness towards me – it all points to one thing: Matt told him.
I push down the urge to confront Harvey about it. I'm not here for him, I remind myself. I'm here to mess with Matt. And judging by the increasingly panicked look on his face as he tries to fend off his admirers, my plan is working perfectly.
Matt glances over at Harvey, a plea for help clear in his eyes. But Harvey just gives him a half-hearted shrug before turning back to Jen.
“I'll see you guys around,” he says, already moving away.
Jen watches him go, her face falling. She turns to me, confusion clear in her eyes. “What's going on with him?”
She is too boy hungry. I shake my head. “Maybe he just wants a piece of what Matt has going on,” I say, nodding towards the crowd of girls still swarming around Matt.
Jen frowns, clearly not satisfied with that answer.
The music pumps through the room, the bass vibrating in my chest as I grab Jen and pull her to the dance floor. We're on our second drink now, and the alcohol has loosened us up, washing away the earlier tension. For a moment, I forget about Matt, about Harvey, about the pranks. It's just me and my new best friend, laughing and twirling like we don't have a care in the world.
Between dance moves, I catch sight of Matt across the room. The pink-haired girl is perched on his lap, playing with his hair as he talks. The other girls are clustered around him, hanging on his every word. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. He looks so uncomfortable, trying to maintain his cool facade while clearly wondering what the hell is going on.
“We need more drinks!” Jen shouts over the music, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the makeshift bar.
As we wait for our refills, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to find Harvey standing there, a conflicted look on his face.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, his voice barely audible over the party.
I glance at Jen, who gives me a pointed look before conveniently finding something interesting on the other side of the room. I turn back to Harvey, shrugging. “Yeah,” I reply, my voice low.
He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “Are you using me to get back at Matt?”
I search his face, seeing the hurt and confusion there. Guilt rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. My face remains impassive as I consider my response.
Before I can answer, Harvey continues, “Do I even stand a chance?”
“A chance?” I repeat, buying time.
“Yeah,” he nods, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes.
“We don't know each other, Harvey. And I think Jen is really into you.”
“Jen?” He looks surprised, glancing over at where she's pretending not to eavesdrop.
“Yeah, maybe give her a chance,” I say, grateful for the distraction.
