Clover: I’m heading to class now.
Knowing her schedule, I can say for sure she has a class soon. But the thing that’s concerning is the fact that she didn’t mention just having a coffee or her seeing her ex.
Me: Can’t wait to see you later.
For more reasons than one.
Clover: Me too.
Exhaling a sigh of resignation, I shove my phone back into my pocket. I don’t feel any sense of relief after our text exchange. If anything, I’m even more uncertain of where I stand with her, and it sucks. This is one of the reasons I’ve never allowed myself to care about a girl this much.
* * *
The first party of the year at the house is always a huge deal. Sometimes alumni will show up and it’s always great to see them. One thing that’s always consistent is the free-flowing beer and that all Boston University students are welcome.
My frat brothers and I have been busy for the past hour setting up. Living room furniture has been pushed against the walls. The bathrooms have been cleaned. Lawn chairs have been set up in a circle around the large, stone fire pit that’s a new addition to the backyard. Jeremy, a new member of the frat and hockey team, built it with Donovan’s help. He’s a bit of a country boy, hailing from Nebraska. Tonight will be the first occasion we’ve had to try it out.
I set out stacks of red cups on the kitchen counter closest to the door leading out to the deck where the kegs are. Lining up a few bottles of tequila and whiskey, I leave out a shot glass in case anyone wants to be precise in their alcohol consumption. I check the two coolers of soda in the kitchen, making sure they’re full.
My gaze glides in a final sweep around the room, making sure everything’s as it should be. Unfortunately, by morning this room will look vastly different. Cans, cups, empty bottles, and drunken people will be scattered all around. As much fun as our parties are, I’m already dreading the clean up, and judging by the sound of voices, the first guests have just arrived.
Here we go. It’s time to put on my game face and be the cool and confident guy I usually am. Even though I’m not feeling either of those things at the moment.
Snatching a bottle of whiskey from the counter, I fill the shot glass and down the liquid. I repeat the process twice more, hoping to get a jump start on the buzz I’m relying on to make waiting for Clover to get here easier.
“Hey, I didn’t know we were starting with shots,” Shaw says, approaching.
“What can I say? I want to kick this party off right.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Shaw pours himself a shot and downs the golden liquid. He refills the glass three more times, and by the time he places the bottle down, I can already tell the whiskey is affecting him. He’s an adult and can do what he wants. That being said, Maddie will kick his ass if he gets too banged up.
Keeping myself busy, I catch up with people I haven’t seen since last year and shoot the shit with my teammates.
“Anyone want to make a prediction for how the Terriers will do this year?” Jeremy asks, and our heads all snap his way.
“Hey, jackass, don’t ever make a prediction about the current season or encourage someone else to,” I scold. He looks confused. “Why not?”
“Because it’s bad luck, dude,” Donovan jumps in.
“It is?” he asks.
“Look, you’re new, so we’re going to forgive you for asking that. But don’t ever do it again,” I tell him.
“Yeah, not unless you want your ass kicked on and off the ice,” Shaw joins in, chuckling a little too hard. I see a hangover in his future.
Jeremy’s eyes practically pop from their sockets. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Donovan sniggers. “Now you do.”
“Anything else I should know that we’re not allowed to talk about?”
“Don’t disagree with anything we say and you should be fine,” I reply, slapping him on the back.
“Okay.” He nods. “I can do that.”
I catch Shaw’s eye and we both grin. I love this kid already. Soft spoken and polite off the ice, he’s a savage on skates. The two sides of him are polar opposites. It’s an interesting dichotomy.
“Hello, boys.” Maddie walks toward us with Buddy on a leash. Shaw steps forward and their lips meet in a kiss.
“You’ve been drinking liquor.” She calls Shaw out in front of us all. We all snicker, except Shaw. His mouth opens and closes as he figures out what to say. He can’t deny it because she’ll know he’s lying. And if he admits she’s right, she’ll scold him.
I jump to his defense. “Maddie, cut him some slack. It’s the first party of our senior year, and we don’t have a hockey game this weekend. This is our chance to let loose. Don’t be a killjoy and ruin that.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Marshall,” she huffs.
“You wouldn’t, because you know I’m not gonna mince words. If you don’t want to see Shaw feeling good, just leave. Then you won’t have to be a witness to whatever he does.”
“I’m not leaving him here to get drunk and be at every puck bunny’s mercy. No freaking way.”
“Aww, babe, you’re worried about my virtue.” Shaw wraps his arm around her. “I love you.”
Maddie smiles up at him. “Someone has to protect you. God knows it won’t be any of your friends.” Narrowing her eyes, she glares at each one of us before her adoring gaze lands on Shaw. “Let’s go put Buddy upstairs.”
“I get what you’re saying, babe.” Shaw winks at Maddie before speaking to the rest of us. “We’re going upstairs to have sex. We’ll be back later.”
“Now we’re definitely not having sex,” Maddie grumbles.
“Hey, sis, before you go, what happened to Clover? I thought she was coming?”
“She had something to do first, but then she’s heading over. I think she had to meet someone. Be nice if you see her,” she orders.
Meet someone? Like her ex, again?
“I will.” She has no idea of what’s going on with Clover and me, and I’m not about to tell her. And I know Clover didn’t want to share the news with her yet either. Maybe she doesn’t think whatever we are is worth sharing the information. I picture her ex with his hand on hers like it was this afternoon, and my blood boils beneath my skin. I wish I had stormed over and confronted her. At least I’d know what’s going on instead of guessing like I currently am.
Is she with him right now?
Are his hands on her body?
Are her hands on him?
Fuck. Pouring another shot, I knock it back and tell myself to calm down before I decide to track this guy down and beat his ass until he knows Clover is mine.
Chapter Sixteen
Marshall
The party’s going full force now and the karaoke has started. Jeremy thought it would be a great idea to purchase a karaoke machine that we can break out for parties or whenever we want to. It seemed like a decent idea until now. For the past half hour, there’s been one singer wailing after another. My ears have been violated. Good thing Buddy’s in Shaw’s room or he’d be howling along. And I dare say he’d sound better.
“Give me the microphone.” I hear Shaw’s voice and move to the living room to see what’s going on. I find Shaw standing with the mic in his hand. “I’m going to sing an original song I wrote for my best friend, Buddy.” I grin, amused and relieved. For a second there, I was concerned he was gonna sing to me.
The music for the old Buddy Holly song, “Peggy Sue,” blasts through the speakers and Shaw starts to sing. Gyrating his hips like he’s Elvis reincarnated, he’s engrossed in his performance. Maddie stands in front of the makeshift stage area hooting and hollering and egging him on.
Buddy Poo, Buddy Poo
Buddy, Buddy, Buddy, Buddy, Buddy Poo
Oh, Buddy, my Buddy Poo
Oh, well, I love my Buddy
But I don’t love Buddy’s poo
He shuts the music off and laughter rings out all around
the room—mine might be the loudest. Shaw bows and straightens, his arms extended out, soaking in the attention.
He raises the microphone to his mouth once more. “I love you, Buddy.” He pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is hoarse with emotion. “You’re the best friend I could ask for.” He wipes a tear from his eye.
Man, he’s shitfaced, and this performance was pure gold. He may never live this down. I doubt I’ll let him. In fact, I know I won’t. But goddammit, why didn’t I have the foresight to record this train wreck?
Spinning around before the next singer starts, I step out of the living room into the hallway and see Clover making her way toward me.
“Hi.” She smiles, and all my doubts want to float away, but I hold tight, forcing them to remain. I can’t allow myself to be blinded by her beauty or how much I care about her. I need to keep a level head. Women can be tricky.
“Hey, I didn’t think you were going to show.”
“Yeah, I had to drop some notes off to a friend and it took me longer than I expected.”
I bet.
“I’m glad you’re here now.”
“Me too.” She squeezes my arm, her simple touch sending the blood racing through my veins. It takes all my resolve not to throw her over my shoulder and take her to my room. But I can’t let my desire for her outweigh my doubts. “Is something wrong?” she asks, frowning.
Is her conscience guilty?
I shake my head. “Why would anything be wrong?”
She tips her head, studying me. “You seem like something’s on your mind.”
Screw this bullshit.
Catching her hand, I pull her up the stairs with me. “What are you doing?” She struggles to keep up with my longer legs. I lead her to my room and close us inside.
“Have a seat.” I point to my bed. Once she’s perched on the end of the mattress, I ask, “Who did you have coffee with today?”
She looks at her feet. “No one.”
“Are you sure about that?” My tone deepens.
Her head snaps up. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Don’t lob a question back to me. Answer my question.”
“I did. And don’t tell me what to do.” She’s stubborn as fuck.
“How about being honest with me?” My words sound like a plea to my own ears. I don’t want to sound weak. I don’t want to feel weak, but caring about her so much is my kryptonite.
“Fine. I had coffee with Connor, my ex.”
“I know. I saw you.”
“Then why are you asking me?” She looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Because I wanted to see if you’d tell me the truth.”
“I don’t like being set up.” She raises her voice. “Why didn’t you come over and say hello, instead of all this nonsense?”
“He had his hand on yours and the two of you looked like you didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“That wasn’t the case at all, which you’d know if you came over to the table. I bumped into him when I was getting my coffee and found out his uncle had passed away over the summer. He asked me if I wanted to sit down, and I felt bad for him, so I did.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Why did you lie to me then?”
“I figured you’d pull some macho bullshit and get weird about me having coffee with him.” She throws a smug look at me.
“You figured right.”
Her eyebrows pinch together in the middle of her forehead. “You have no right to be upset. We’re not even in a relationship.”
We aren’t?
“We had sex,” I state.
Her laugh is full of irony. “You’ve had sex with a lot of girls. Does that mean you were in a relationship with all of them?”
Well, she has me there.
“No. You’re different from them,” I explain.
“How would I know that?”
“I told you that I liked you when we were in New Hampshire.”
“You did, and we’ve barely spoken in the days since. That’s not the behavior of a guy who really likes someone.”
“I was busy with hockey practices and getting moved back in here. Then classes started…” I trail off. No matter what I say, she’ll still feel slighted.
“Every time I called, you had to get off the phone. It felt like a brush off.”
“It wasn’t, but I don’t expect you to understand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I have a lot on my shoulders—the frat, senior year, the hockey team.”
“I can grasp the concept of being busy, Marshall. I’m not stupid. And I’m busy too.”
“No, I just mean I don’t have a lot of free time for—”
“Me,” she cuts in sharply. “You’ve made that abundantly clear. Don’t worry, I have zero expectations when it comes to you.”
She’s finding fault with everything I say. Is she trying to put an end to whatever we are? Fuck that. I’ll be the one to say this is over. “Look, we’re not going to agree on this, and it’s obvious we’d never work as a couple. Why don’t we at least try to salvage our friendship?”
Her lips part, and pain washes over her face as if she’s been slapped. Did I misread the situation?
She stands, shoulders back and chin raised. “Fuck off, Marshall. We’re not friends.” Her lean legs scurry toward the door.
“I thought we could handle this like two adults, but I guess not,” my reply follows her.
She pauses with her hand on the knob. “Being a friend means not setting up someone you supposedly care about. And being an adult means confronting concerns head-on. You didn’t do either of those things, so maybe you should point your finger back at your sanctimonious self.” Opening the door, she throws a loathing gaze my way before storming off.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Closing the door, I drag myself to the bed and fall face-first on top of my comforter. This is not how I intended for our conversation to go. I should’ve waited to talk to her until I was stone cold sober. I should’ve remained calm and not been adversarial. It appears that lately I should’ve done a lot of things differently. But it is what it is and I can’t change what happened.
In a perfect world, my mom would have remained faithful to my dad and I wouldn’t be so distrusting of the female sex.
I know I was unfair to Clover, but I’d rather push her away now and escape with my heart bruised, than let her all the way in and give her the power to break me.
* * *
I may regret the harsh words I directed at Clover last night even more than I knew I would. But they had to be said. Ending things before I had a chance to fall too far to ever climb out of the hole was the right decision—no matter how much I’m second guessing my choice.
Last night, when I returned downstairs after she stormed from my room, I didn’t see her again. She must’ve left immediately, and I was relieved that she did. If I had to look at her for the rest of the party, I may have caved and begged for forgiveness on the spot.
“Winters, what’s going on with you?” Coach Cutter barks at me.
“Nothing, Coach.” Shit. He busted me zoning out.
“Your mind’s not on what we’re doing. Do you need to be somewhere more important?” His sarcasm is thick.
“No, sir.”
He stares at me pointedly. “Then get your head out of your ass and focus.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod before skating over to the blue line. I stop beside Donovan, and he smiles.
“Golden boy’s not so golden today.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
“Watch it, Marshall. I might take your place as the coach's pet,” he presses.
“Maybe next year, when I’m not here,” I reply, smirking.
“You’re not denying it, at least,” Donovan says.
“What’s to deny? I bust my ass for this team and he recognizes the effort I put in. I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“Do you ever apologiz
e for anything?” he questions, making me wonder if he knows what happened with Clover and me. But I’m probably being paranoid. Clover’s not the type to put her business out there for others. That’s another thing I admire about her.
I shrug nonchalantly. “Not if I can help it.”
Coach blows his whistle, and we take off. I keep my strokes powerful and efficient all the way to the other end of the ice. Snow sprays forward as my blades turn sideways in a hockey stop. Immediately, I move backward in a series of alternating crossovers. I cross my right foot over, shift my weight, and cross my left foot over. I repeat these motions all the way down the length of the ice. I’m the first one to reach the thin, red line at the other end. Donovan finishes close behind me.
I chuckle. “Nice try, but I’m still golden, bro.”
Chapter Seventeen
Clover
Maddie catches hold of my arm, stopping me from walking by. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. Why?” I do my best to react as if I’m fine, as if Marshall didn’t break my heart the other night.
“I can tell something’s wrong. You should fill me in on what it is so I can make you feel better.” She gives me her don't give me any bullshit look, and I know she’s not going to let this slide. But she’s been scarce since the party, so this is the first time she’s seeing my miserable face.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why?”
I pause, rolling my lips inward with indecision. “You’re going to be mad at me.”
“That’s not true. When do I ever get mad at you?”
“I’m pretty sure this might be the first time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She waves her hand to dismiss my concerns.
“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to be angry with me when I do.”
“I won’t be.” She’s blissfully ignorant of how upsetting this will be to her.
“You have to pinkie swear.” I hold my hand up.
She rolls her eyes. “What are we, eight?” She hooks her pinkie around mine and says, “I pinkie swear I won’t be mad at you if you tell me what’s on your mind.” She draws her hand back. “Now spill. I’m dying to know what has you so worked up.”
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