“Buzzkill,” murmurs someone in front of us, and I glare at the offender.
“He’s completely alone,” Zack adds, and part of me wants to pick at those words, at the weight I hear in his voice.
And…
Don’t I know how lonely feels?
I have three people in my life I can count on for anything—Mara and my besties Taylor and Poppy—but besides them, nada. No family, and now no Bennett. Even when Mama was alive, she was always somewhere else in her head, thinking about my father, wishing she were with him.
Professor Goldberg is complimentary of Zack’s analysis and class continues as we move on to discuss each line. I take notes on my small laptop, keenly aware of him as he shifts in his seat beside me.
“Good job,” the professor says to us as the bell rings out in the hall. “Next up is Edgar Allan Poe. Get ready to delve into the supernatural.”
I smile. After my upper level law classes, this is one I can just…enjoy.
Because we’re in the last two seats, we sit and wait for the row to empty out. Neither of us speaks, and Zack’s brow is furrowed as he gathers up his backpack and sticks his notebook inside.
“You okay?” I ask, pushing my glasses up.
“Yeah.” He rakes a hand through his hair and gives me a broad smile, the same one he gave Sorority Girl.
I frown. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
He blinks. “What do you mean?”
I take out a packaged Ding Dong from my coat pocket, carefully opening it and tearing off a piece. I give him a look. “I’m not after your phone number, I don’t want to brag to my friends that we banged—in fact, I don’t want anyone to know because that is just not their business—and I don’t want to invite you to my sorority party. So, if you’re not feeling on top of the world, I’m cool. No need to give me smiles that aren’t real.”
I take the bite and chew.
“Okay.” His eyes take me in, lingering a little bit too long on my lips, and I stop masticating. Is anyone attractive eating? No.
I swallow down my bite. “That poem—you liked it?”
He nods, a careful expression on his face. “Yeah. I got it, the darkness in people and how it tears you down.”
I nod. “My mama used to say brushes with darkness are part of every man’s journey. Besides, those real-life Mary Poppins types really piss me off.”
He huffs out a laugh and looks away from me, his face hesitant. “Your mom sounds smart.”
“She had a lot of heartache in her life.” I don’t tell him my father broke her spirit the day he paid us to move away so his wife and kids didn’t have to see us.
He nods.
“What’s your darkness, hockey player?” I ask. My tone is light, but I want to know what makes him tick. He seems so…perfect.
He sighs and stares down at his backpack. “People depending on me to win, Coach wanting a trophy, the NHL wanting a superstar—” He stops, rubs his neck, and stands. “Sorry. TMI.”
“No, it’s fine. I can’t imagine the stress you must be under. You’re practically famous.”
“What’s your darkness?” His eyes are back on my face, searching.
I laugh. “You want a list? It might take a while.”
One side of his lips curves up. “You’re funny.”
I shake my head. “I’m just trying to graduate this May and get to law school, maybe live in a warmer place and have a little house out in the middle of nowhere. That’s all I want.”
“Ah.” He gives me a long look. “I’m headed to lunch. You want to join me in the student center? I swear I won’t talk about poetry.”
“I like poetry.”
“Okay, we’ll talk about whatever you want.” He grins. “Edgar Allan Poe, huh? He’s twisted. I dig The Raven a lot, but his short stories are my favorite. Ever read ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’? It’s a classic Gothic horror story. And the sound of the heart beating in the background…damn, gets me every time.”
I feel my lips parting. He talks about Poe like he’s his bestie. A man that knows his literature and looks like a Greek god. Well. I clear my throat. That’s a turn-on.
And wait…
Is he asking me out? No, goofball. It’s lunch. Right, right. Casual.
But…
I’ve seen him with his hockey friends in the student center before. They’re a loud, gregarious group and girls are always all over them, flitting from one player to the next.
Nope. Can’t do it.
“Uh, yeah. Poe’s cool.”
His eyes get heavy. “Or we can go back to my place.”
And there he goes…
I shake my head. “You just assume I’m ready for a repeat, don’t you? I’m not looking to be your girl of the month.”
“Hmmmm. You sure? You like me.” He grins.
I shake my head. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Stop being so infuriating,” I say, my free hand on my hip.
“But it’s so fun to mess with you. I think you like it.” He reaches out and toys with a piece of my ponytail then pauses, looking at his hand in my hair, as if he’s surprised it’s there.
He drops it and stares. “Can’t seem to help myself.”
My mouth dries. I’m not sure how to respond.
His chest rises as he looks at me, and heat hums inside me.
Maybe he sees it on my face.
“Come on,” he says, his voice lowering. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t care where.”
My lower body clenches, and shit…
I suck in a shuddering breath. “I can’t. I’m going to see someone.” Mara.
“A guy?”
“Pfft. Maybe.”
“No boyfriend though?”
“I have friends.”
“Huh. I see. Okay.” He shrugs and takes off down the row, and I follow. “You know, I can walk you to meet your friend,” he offers, a glint in his eyes as he waits for me at the bottom of the stairs.
I squint up at him. “Jealous?”
He laughs. “No way, babe.”
Babe. The word sizzles around me and I want to burn shit down.
I give him my own nonchalant shrug as I walk past him. “Oh, yeah, you definitely are.”
10
Zack
“Your cat coughed up another fucking hairball,” Reece calls out as he marches out of his bedroom. Dressed only in snug zebra striped boxers with a pair of pink unicorn flip-flips on his feet—where does he buy these things?—he holds up one of his sneakers and shakes it in the air. His eyes land on me. “Right in my goddamn shoe. Do you have any clue how disgusting it is to feel that shit between my toes?”
Eric, who’s sitting on the couch watching The Bachelor, snorts. “Don’t leave your shoes on the floor.”
He shakes his head at Eric. “Where should I keep my shoes? On my bed? On the dresser? You might have a different answer if she puked on your stuff.”
“She likes me.” Eric shrugs, never taking his gaze off the TV as he throws more popcorn in his mouth. “Besides, nobody’s getting rid of Long John Silver. Since she showed up, we’ve had a good run.”
Except for the game where I lost my shit, but I don’t bring that up.
“That’s right, Reece. You can’t mess with a good luck cat. She’s our lucky charm,” I say, holding back a grin as he drops the shoes at my feet and glares. I lean over and pet her, her body currently curled up on the kitchen table while I study. “And she’s not my cat.”
“You named her and she sleeps with you. You, my brother, are a fucking cat owner,” he huffs, throwing his hands up, moody as hell. It doesn’t faze me. Reece is an emotional guy with a temper that flares hot but cools just as fast. I’m the same.
He’s also really into shoes.
“It’s hard to take you seriously with little pink unicorns on your feet,” I say dryly.
He ignores that. “Last week it was my practice jersey. The time before that it was my notebook.” He points a finger at Long John Silver. “The little monster has it out for me.”
As if sensing he’s badmouthing her, her tail flicks around agitatedly and she gives him a scratchy, “Meoooow.”
I look from her to him. “She said, It wasn’t me.”
Eric laughs from his perch in the living room. “Nah, she said, Fuck off, Reece, you’re the pussy here.”
He waves his hands at us. “Fine, fine, laugh all you want, but you just wait until she’s coughing up a loogie in your shoe.”
“At least it wasn’t a dump,” comes from Eric.
Reece glowers, and I give in and stand. “Come on, I’ll fix this. Give me the shoe, you big baby. I’ll throw it in the wash and it will be good as new.”
He sniffs. “I’m not an idiot. I can wash my own shoe, but if you could keep her out of my bedroom…”
I laugh. “Dude, just shut your door. Cats can’t reach the doorknobs. No thumbs.”
“Smartass,” he says. “I’m tired. Just done, I guess.” He rubs his shoulder. “And this shoulder isn’t doing me any favors. Couldn’t sleep a wink last night and all the doc gave me was Aleve.”
I nod. We’re all paranoid about injuries that keep us out of the game and prevent us from racking up stats.