Chapter 15
PENN
The day after our game, I wake up in my own bed.
Alone.
Sadly for me, the sleepover at Hazel’s place I suggested yesterday morning did not end up happening—but I didn’t bring the idea up again.
Mainly because I’d been (mostly) joking in the first place…
but I also wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to keep teasing her about sleeping in her bed after I’d just kissed her.
I didn’t want her to think I was trying to initiate a hookup or something. So to be on the safe side, when we got home last night, I simply walked her to her front door and said “goodnight” like a good boy.
This morning, none of us guys have plans until practice later. Noah and Ally head out for a brunch date, so Fisher and I go to the grocery store to restock the loft. Tomorrow, we head off for a few days of games on the road, and we all like to come home to a full fridge and pantry after being away.
“I got the meat,” Fisher says as he dumps a bunch of packages of sliced deli turkey and ham into the overflowing cart I’m pushing, then looks down at the shopping list on his phone. “Now we just need to grab those yogurts Ally likes.”
“And ketchup chips.”
“Gross.” Fisher wrinkles his nose.
I flip him off, then steer the cart into the next aisle and add several bags of chips to the cart, making sure to grab extra for Cassie.
Ketchup chips are a rarity here in the States, but luckily for me, the owner of this store happens to be from Vancouver, and they carry my favorite Canadian flavors.
“You Canadians are so weird.” Fisher shakes his head as he grabs a few bags of Doritos.
“No, we just have great taste,” I reply as I throw a giant bag of popcorn into the cart for good measure. Then, I grin at Fisher. “And speaking of great taste, should we get mac and cheese to make for lunch?”
“Hell yes.”
We all take our jobs as athletes seriously and look after our bodies, paying close attention to our nutrition, but Fisher and I aren’t as strict with our diets full time as Noah is, so this morning, we’re taking advantage of not having the health police—AKA Noah—shopping with us for once.
There were only about ten things on the grocery list Noah gave us, but we’ve been adding all kinds of forbidden processed snacks to our haul. Hence the overflowing cart.
We stop in the pasta aisle next, and as Fisher looks for the mac and cheese, I spot a selection of Alfredo sauces.
Remembering Hazel said her favorite food was fettuccine Alfredo, I grab a couple of jars on a whim.
I haven’t attempted to make pasta since the day Hazel got mad at me and Cassie for being too loud, but maybe I could give it another try.
Cook for Hazel after she’s had a busy day… and then kiss her again.
I’m not sure what gave me the balls to kiss her in public like that last night—maybe the high of scoring a game-winning goal—but the second my lips met hers, all I could think about is how much time I’ve wasted not kissing her since we’ve been fake dating.
The little gasp she made when my lips met hers did something to my brain chemistry, and now that I know how good she tastes, I want more. Which means I need to conjure up another excuse to get to do it again. And again.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Penn Matthews, the man of the hour,” a nasally drawl comes from behind me, popping my sexy Hazel thoughts like a balloon.
I turn around to find Chad-dick Weatherby standing in the aisle, holding a wire grocery basket.
The guy has a habit of just appearing everywhere he’s not wanted lately, like a little weasel.
He’s not using his crutches anymore—he has a boot on one leg now—and his slicked back hair is as oily as the smile he’s currently aiming at me.
“That was quite the spectacle last night.”
He’s obviously talking about the kiss, not the goal I scored, but I play dumb and smile.
“Thanks, Weatherby,” I say cheerfully. “Didn’t realize you were a fan. Did you want me to sign your boot for you?”
Beside me, Fisher snorts a laugh, and Chadwick’s smug expression slides off his face as his eyes land on my roommate.
“You’re Archibald Fisher,” he says smoothly, offering his hand. “Don’t think we’ve officially met off the ice. I’m Chadwick Weatherby.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
Ever since I had the displeasure of attending high school with him back in Calgary, Chadwick has been the human embodiment of every negative hockey stereotype.
He was always a rich, elitist prick of a kid who was good on the ice mostly due the privilege of one-on-one coaching, expensive training camps, and private hockey academies since he was old enough to walk.
It’s not that I find his privilege in itself a problem—Fisher was also born filthy rich but he’s actually a good person—it’s that Weatherby always treated anyone less wealthy like they were beneath him.
He made it clear he believed scholarship kids like me didn’t belong in hockey, and sucked up to anyone he saw as more elite or highbrow.
Case in point: because Fisher’s family is famously rich and aristocratic, right now Chadwick’s seeking his approval…
despite the fact that Fisher is friends with the enemy.
But instead of shaking Chadwick’s outstretched hand, Fisher shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Yes, I’m aware who you are,” he says to Chadwick, who preens…but then Fisher grins deviously and adds, “Hazel told us all about you.”
Chadwick looks at me with triumph in his eyes before turning back to my roommate. “She told you that we dated for a year?”
“No.” Fisher smirks. “She told us she destroyed your signed Gretzky jersey after you cheated on her.”
I like to think of myself as a pretty nice guy in general, but I’m not going to lie, I get immense satisfaction watching as Chadwick’s face falls at Fisher’s taunts.
He collects himself quickly, though, waving a hand like he doesn’t care—even though he clearly does.
“I’ll get another one. And I must say, I was shocked at first when Hazel did that because it was quite out of character for a nice girl like her.
But then I found out she’d been slumming it with Matthews here and her sudden violent behavior made more sense.
” He looks at me pointedly. “Clearly, you’ve been teaching her the Matthews’ family way of handling things, and now she's taking a leaf out of that idiot Mike Smith’s playbook and turning a blind eye to all of your bad behavior instead of sending you packing like you deserve. ”
Chadwick’s right, in a way. Coach Smith gave me way more than I deserved.
Let me keep my spot on our high school team when guys like Chadwick and his father were calling for me to be expelled.
But just as I didn’t deserve the second chance I was given, Chadwick doesn’t deserve to say anything about Hazel. Not after how he treated her.
“Or maybe it turns out you don’t know Hazel that well, and you never did,” I say calmly.
“Maybe if you’d taken the time to get to know her properly when you were dating instead of sleeping with half of California behind her back, you wouldn’t have lost her.
” I grin. “I should thank you, really. Because your loss is my gain.”
I expect Chadwick to bristle, but he surprises me by laughing. “Oh, I know Hazel,” he says. “And I know you two aren’t a match. She’s quiet and studious. Honestly, she can be a bit of a yawn, but she’s got class—unlike that trashy ex of yours from high school.”
This time, I don’t stop my eyes from rolling. “Such a nice thing to say about someone you hooked up with.”
“Exactly. Hooked up with. Guys like me, we might spend a night or two with girls like Tori when we’re bored or need a little fun, but we date classy girls like Hazel who have the right image.” He smiles, then gives Fisher a conspiratorial nod. “Fisher gets it.”
Fisher’s face goes slack with disbelief. “Fisher most definitely does not get it, you pretentious prick,” he practically snarls.
“Guys like Matthews do not date girls like Hazel,” Chadwick bulldozes on, undeterred. “You end up with the Tori-types of this world…when we’re done having our fun with them, of course.”
Fisher’s jaw tics, his face turning red, but I give him a look, silently telling him it's not worth it. Rage is rising up in me, too, but I know to ignore it. Chadwick’s being an elitist douche and talking shit right now, but taking his bait goes nowhere good.
So instead of getting mad, I fix Hazel’s ex with a cool stare.
“Yet here we are, Weatherby. One of us is dating Hazel....and it’s not you. ”
Chadwick shakes his head, the stubborn ass. “Someday soon, she’s going to come to her senses and throw you out on your ass when she sees you for the trash you really are. Just like Tori did…right before she came running to me.”
Fisher steps forward; clearly he’s had enough. He looks down his nose at Weatherby, his green eyes cold and hard, and his tone matching as he says, “I think Hazel already took out the trash in her life, Weatherby. And I also think we’re done here.”
“I was just leaving anyway,” Chadwick says.
I wink at him. “Maybe I’ll catch you in 2B in a bit. Thought I might stop by and see my girl when I get home.”
Chadwick gives me a withering look. “She’s at work right now.”
I hate that he knows this and I don’t.
“After her shift,” I correct myself, and Chadwick’s eyes flicker with familiar smugness.
“Ahh, didn’t she tell you? Their volunteer group for tonight canceled. She’ll be in that hovel packing boxes ’til midnight, by the sound of it.” He smirks. “I guess you’ll be spending the night before Valentine’s Day alone, Matthews, because Hazel’s too busy for you.”