Chapter 3
THREE
WHY DENNY SHOULDN’T DRINK
“Zaaaaaaaaach?”
“Denny, that you?”
His voice is gruff with sleep.
God, it’s sexy.
Too sexy.
Bad Denny! Bad girl. Very bad, bad girl.
“Zaaach!”
There, that wasn’t as exuberant.
He yawns. “Why are you yodeling my name?”
“Because I’m so drunk.” I giggle. “SO drunk.”
He snorts. “You at the sorority house so I can pick you up?”
“Nope.”
“Ah. They didn’t select you, huh?”
Even drunk, and even talking to Zach, I know I need to watch my words so I settle on a truth: “I’m too fat for their Greek selves.”
There.
They told me that last year.
“You’re not too fat,” he snaps, his defense immediate.
I blink at the Coors sign that’s glowing above my head then grab a couple whole lemons from the chopping board behind the bar and start to juggle them. “You really mean that, huh?”
“You’re not too fat. You’re the perfect amount of curvy.”
“You sound like my marketing professor. Enhance the negatives—”
“The only negative thing about you, Denver, is that you’re hella loud when you’re smashed.”
“Dad wouldn’t agree. I just know he’ll talk to Mom and they’ll encourage me to go on a soup diet until I can fit into Addison’s…” I hiccup. “…dress. I can’t believe you fucked her. You have terrible taste.”
“A soup diet?”
“Yeah. You eat soup and celery for ten days. She’s sworn by it in the past, after she had Logan and Paul.”
He heaves a sigh. “Why do you listen to that bullshit?”
“Why do you fuck horrible people?”
“I don’t care enough about them to know they’re horrible,” he jokes.
My nose scrunches. “Ho.”
“You know it. If your mom tells you to diet, I’ll talk to her.”
“I don’t need you to. She’ll forget alllll about me soon. She’s zeroed in on husband no. 2, and that means she’s more worried about her figure than mine. Logan says he’s slimy.” I frown. “I think she wanted to marry an athlete.”
“Any sport?”
“Yup!”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because her first husband is a sports agent and Logan says this one is a contract negotiator specializing in sports.”
Zach chuckles. “You might be right. Those who can’t play become attorneys?”
“You’re smart. You’ll do both. I’ll make you. You can’t play hockey forever.”
“I know, I know. Why do you think I came to Oakwood?”
“Because you listen to Aunt Denny.”
“That I do. Hey, you’re not dieting right now, are you?”
“Nah.”
“Good.”
“Want to know a secret?”
“Sure.”
“I’d supplement the soup diet with Skittles.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“Want to know another secret?”
“Hit me with it.”
“I like my curves and my tits too.”
He coughs. “Body positivity, for the win.”
“You’re the best.”
“Not particularly.”
“Sure you are. It’s not like I’d fit in there anyway. They think Berdyaev is a leather brand and—”
He snickers and it’s so soft and comforting that I close my eyes in delight.
“Denny?”
“Yep.”
“You broke off mid-sentence.”
Oops. You laughed and I orgasmed. That’s his fault, not mine. Huh. I haven’t thought that about Zach in a looooooong time. What’s the point? When you’re the ugly kid who’s besties with the cool squad, there’s no point. That’s how many points there are.
“They cut me off.”
“Who did? Those bitches? I’ll fucking—”
“Noooo, the bar, well, Freya did. She says I’m too drunk and literally made me call you.”
Though, I did like him getting all growly and defensive on my behalf. Yummeeeeeeeeeee.
“Freya works at that bar next to Dopie's, right?”
“She does! That one you’re barred from after—”
“I remember, D!”
“—you smashed the stool over Harold Rogers’s head.”
“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
“Nope!”
“I only did it because he thought you were a server!”
“You can’t go around beating…” I pause. Blink. “You can’t keep on beating people up who are mean to me, Zach.”
“Sure I can.”
“You’ll get arrested.”
“Like that’ll stop my career.”
“Ugh. That’s so gross. Hockey players get away with actual murder and you’re just over here, feeding into the system!”
“Denny, did you tell him I revoked the ban so he can come and pick you up because I seriously can’t listen to another tantrum about why the world sucks? I don’t even make minimum wage, close at two AM, and have a class in the next five hours.”
I whistle. “Your life sucks, Freya.”
She’s also one of the silly, silly, silly women dating a player on Zach’s team. Double sucks.
“Thanks,” she drawls.
“Zach, you can come and pick me up. Freya revoked the ban for ten minutes only.”
“And that’s because my boss isn’t here,” she hollers so Zach can hear.
When he grumbles about it not being his fault The Dive serves dipshits, my lips purse.
“Speaking of assholes, I told Mom.” Then my nose scrunches. “Okay, that’s mean. She’s not an asshole. Just about this, she’s an asshole. A temporary asshole.”
I hear him yawn and the sound of keys being scraped against our console table, so I know he’s on his way out the door. “About being turned down by the sisterhood of the constant yoyo diet?”
“Yep. She cried again.” I drop the lemons and scowl at the peanut bowl. “I shouldn’t eat the peanuts, right?”
“The urine peanuts? Nope. Stay away from the peanut bowl. Permanently.”
“I’m hungry.”
“We can pick up takeout. I’m heading out as we speak.”
“You’re the best.”
“You said that already. You’ll regret it tomorrow. You think my head’s too big as it is.”
“It is.” I wonder if his cock’s big too. Oops.
Gah, drunk Denny is the worst.
“What did Mel say aside from weeping?”
“Nothing. She just sniffled and thanked me for giving it a shot. I can’t decide if she’s reliving her lost youth through me because she wasted hers on Dad and having three kids or if she just wants me to make better choices.”
“How about she’s punishing you for being young when she isn’t?”
“Ooooh, ouch.”
“Am I wrong?”
“I don’t think you’re right. I told you something funky is going on with Dad. But thirty-nine isn’t old anyway. Hell, I wanna look as good as her at thirty-nine.”
“You don’t need to look like her. You look like you and you’re beautiful—whether those sorority bitches think so or not. You don’t need them when you have Pecan and me.”
“You’re the best.”
He snickers. “Thank you, Denny.”
“No, you really, really, reallllly are.”
“Yup, that’s me. The greatest.”
“FINALLY, WE AGREE!”
“Volume, Den. Okay, I’m behind the wheel. My phone’ll switch over—” There’s a pause then a sound clicks. “—now.”
“Did I tell you Francine’s pregnant?” My new stepmother, ladies and gentlemen!
“No, you didn’t tell me Francis is pregnant.”
“Frankie didn’t waste any time, did she?”
“Well, they’re probably having a lot of sex.”
“Ugh.”
“The joys of marrying an ex-puck bunny who settles for a sports agent.”
“Double ugh.”
His chuckle is orgasmic. “Come on, Den. Keep on talking.”
“Why?”
“Because if Pecan learns I had to carry you out of the bar, he’ll never let you forget it.”
“Why am I friends with boys again? You just don’t appreciate the sanctity of a secret.”
“Says you! You hold shit against me all the time.”
“Self-defense 101. If you can’t beat them, join them.” When Freya pops up in front of me again, I chirp, “Zach’s coming to rescue me, Freya.”
She scowls at my lemons and plops them in the bowl behind the bar. “I bet he is.”
“What’s that mean?” I sputter as she swipes a towel over the counter.
“What did she say?”
“She said that she bets you’re rescuing me.” I glance at her beadily. “Explain.”
She shrugs. “Just saying I’m not surprised he’s coming to pick up your drunk ass at 2 AM.”
“I used to call his mom when he sneaked into his place. Do you remember that, Zach?”
“I do.” His voice turns gentle. “Thanks, Den.”
“She probably knew.”
“Mom knew everything.”
I love and hate it when his voice turns that silken kind of soft. It rarely comes out. It’s a mixture of love and misery and grief. I always want to hug him when he talks like this.
“You need to get here faster so I can hug you.”
Freya pauses mid-swipe. “Keep it clean. I don’t need to hear this.”
“I said hug, Freya. I didn’t say I’d sit on his dick.”
As Zach chokes in my ear, she retorts, “Like you wouldn’t if he offered.”
That knowing gleam in her eye has me echoing, “He’s Zach.”
“And? He’s the main man.”
“Yeah, he can and does have any chick he wants. That’s the kind of pressure I don’t need even if he wanted me.”
“Hey! I’m still here!”
“Yupppp.”
Zach clears his throat.
“Lots of the girls who hang around the team are jealous of you, Denny. You know that, right?”
The three-way conversation makes my head spin, but Freya’s within throwing distance so I chuck an ice cube from my now-empty Moscow mule at her.
It doesn’t land. She tuts and swipes that cloth over the counter again.
The endless circles are hypnotic. I squint at her and blink a couple times to free myself from that weird sensation. “Jealous of me?”
“Sure. Rookie or not, he’s going all the way to the top and I bet you go with him.”
I drop my cell onto the counter. “I’m his best friend. Of course I am.”
“If you say so.”
Ha!
“Of course I say so! What are we even talking about? I think I know what I’m saying, Freya!”
“And I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I gape at her because I’m pretty sure I don’t.
See, if wishes were hockey players, fat girls would ride.
And that’s the bitch of it.
Puck rabbits, the ones who live off celery sticks and kale, love to make it seem like my curves are a bad thing. Whereas I think I’m a curvy goddess who enjoys some of life’s delicacies.
Honestly, with all the roughage they consume, you’d think they’d have more cheerful, and less constipated, dispositions.
Freya’s not a puck rabbit. She’s borderline. It’s why I like her. She’s definitely too good for the Dukes’s captain.
“Zach doesn’t like celery sticks, Freya,” I tell her.
She squints. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“It means that he’ll fuck anyone and everyone, even celery stick consumers. He doesn’t discriminate.”