43
Kennedy
I spotted Josh on my way into the arena. He might’ve turned out to be a strange guy, but he’d never been anything but calm and courteous to me. From the way he was glaring at me now, however, I had a feeling this time would be very, very different.
Without making it obvious, I pressed the record button on my phone but kept it facing the floor.
“Hi, Josh,” I greeted him, deciding the best way to handle this was to act friendly.
“Hello? Really?” he sneered, the words dripping with contempt. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
My eyes widened as I took him in. His hair hung low over his forehead, almost covering his eyes, but not enough to mask the blaze of anger behind them.
“Um . . . what would you like me to say?” I asked carefully, surprised at the tone he’d used with me, though maybe I shouldn’t have been. Nash and I had been through enough because of him, and now we were staring down the possibility of a trade.
“You could start,” he hissed, stepping closer, “by apologizing for being such a fucking tease.”
“What?” The word came out hard, full of disbelief.
I’d been called plenty of things growing up—dork, weirdo, bookworm—but tease was definitely not one of them. I was too self-conscious, too easily intimidated to ever put myself out there like that. The only time I’d ever been remotely flirtatious or bold was with Nash, and only behind closed doors.
“You’re really calling me a tease?” I asked again when he just stood there silently staring at me, which felt more unnerving than the insult itself.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he finally said, his voice still just as cold. “Leading guys on—”
“Leading guys on?” I deadpanned. Me? I was pretty sure I’d never done that. I wouldn’t even know how.
Josh stood there in full game gear except for skates and helmet, arrogance rolling off him in waves. “You know what you did.”
“No. I don’t, Josh. Unless you’re talking about the fact that I didn’t choose you. Is that it?”
He huffed. “You knew exactly what you were doing,” he said, voice rising, sharp enough to make me flinch.
“Who did I lead on, Josh?” I asked, my tone steadier than I felt, though my pulse hammered in my ears. “You were the one who kept pushing, trying to make us into something we weren’t and ruining what I had with Nash. You were the one fabricating stories that weren’t true.”
“You were the one ruining things!” he snapped. “You hooked up with Nash just to rub it in my face.”
My anger flared, replacing the nervousness that had knotted in my stomach moments before. I dug the nails of my free hand into my thigh, forcing myself to hold on to my self-control. I wasn’t going to give Josh the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.
“That’s not true, Josh, and you know it,” I said, my voice breaking out of its coolness. Nash and I had never, ever flaunted our relationship.
His mouth curled in a sneer. “You let me take you to dinner?”
Wow.
“Okay. You offered to do that, Josh,” I shot back, my heart rate spiking.
He didn’t answer right away but stepped closer, until he was so close I could feel his breath fanning across my face. It was intimidating, and for the first time I was actually worried about what he might do.
“Did you expect me to repay you by sleeping with you?” I asked with as much attitude as I could muster.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem sleeping with anyone else,” he replied slowly, arrogance dripping from every word.
“You know what, Josh,” I snapped, my voice shaking but firm, “you’re wrong. And I don’t owe you an explanation.” I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder and turned back toward the stadium doors. “I hope, for the team’s sake, you have a good game.”
“You don’t need to justify anything,” Josh mocked, his normally handsome face turning ugly. “Everyone already sees you for what you are, a slut and a puck bunny.”
That hurt, even though I didn’t think it was true. I’d always been cautious, maybe even a little prudish, and I doubted people saw me as some attention seeker. But the sting of it still made me stop short and turn around to face him.
“Then why are you here talking to me?” I goaded him.
When he didn’t answer, I pressed harder even though the warning bells were going off in the back of my mind.
“You call me a slut, but you spent weeks blowing up my phone, sending picture after picture of Amy all over Nash. For what? To hurt him? For my own good? Or because you thought if you broke us up, I’d choose you instead? ”
“Because he doesn’t deserve you!” Josh shouted, his eyes blazing with something unhinged.
“I saw you first in the bar. I caught you when you were so drunk you almost fell on your face. I got you a ticket to the game,” he continued, slamming his hand against his chest. “I took you out to dinner, just for you to turn around and fuck him? All while he cheated on you behind your back?”
I blinked, my pulse quickening.
“Josh, he didn’t—” I started, my voice rising, but he cut me off with a growl.
“I know for a fact that he fucked Amy,” Josh snarled, his expression furious, spit flying out of his mouth as he continued to yell at me. “And you were no fucking better.”
A cold ripple went down my back. I tried to focus on what Josh was saying, but also on what he wasn’t. It was obvious that he was angry, and he seemed jealous of Nash. But why?
“Fucking asshole always gets what he wants,” Josh raged. “Most popular, MVP, wanted by women everywhere . . . and he still isn’t satisfied. Even got picked in the draft before me. Why? Why does he get everything, including the girls I want?”
I backed up a couple of steps, taken aback by his rage. “That’s not true, Josh. You know that.” Then I realized what he had said: girls. Not girl. Plural, as in more than one.
“Which girls, Josh?” I asked carefully. “Who were the girls you wanted that Nash got?”
The look that flashed across his face was almost indescribable—dark, twisted, something I couldn’t name—but I didn’t get an answer because there was movement down the corridor.
“Everything all right over here?” a familiar voice called. Relief rushed through me as I spotted Sarjenko peeking around the corner.
“Fine,” Josh snapped.
“Good. You better move it, man,” Sarjenko said firmly. “Coach is starting the meeting in a minute.”
My body began to shake the second Josh’s tall frame disappeared around the corner.
The second he was gone, I fumbled with my phone to turn off the recording, silently praising myself for being smart enough to start it in the first place.
Because nobody would believe me if they didn’t hear it themselves.