Chapter 8
EIGHT
brING THE THUNDER
THREE WEEKS LATER
‘Invite only’ night changed things between us.
Not just because I jerked off to her picture or because I happened to hear that I’m only ‘best friend’ material.
But Denny changed.
Or maybe it’s me—maybe I really am the problem.
I’m not sure which, but things have been awkward and things are never awkward with us.
And I hate it.
It was less awkward when I was back in Canada, for Christ’s sake, and my captain’s not making shit any easier either, with his social media BS and—
“What’s with the thunder?”
I blink at D when she slides into the booth next to me at Dopie's, our hangout spot.
Studying the fries in a basket, I ask, “What thunder?”
Okay, so maybe it’s hard looking her in the eyes now.
Much easier to look at the vintage gas pump over on the wall that Dopie refurbed into a working juke box.
“That scowl. It’d trigger rain.”
“If you say so,” I mutter.
I know I’m a goner because the fact that Denny looks pretty against a red-and-white vinyl banquette seat tells me I’m screwed.
But I knew that the moment she told me brokenly that marriage wasn’t for her. Relationships or love, either.
I don’t know why that conversation messed with my head, just know that it did.
“I do. And you asking for your jerseys back is proof that hell is freezing over and no one warned me. Also, what’s with the flowers?”
I refuse to react. It’s taken long enough for her to freakin’ notice I keep refilling her vases. “I want to wear my clothes again. That’s all. And hey, I like flowers too.”
Her expression’s unimpressed. “Want a fry?”
I gape at the offer. Denny never shares carbs. She always makes Peeks and I get our own because she claims we’re carb thieves.
“You’re being weird.”
So, I’m not the only one who’s picked up on how strange the vibe between us is.
Because I hate it, so fucking much, I turn into the booth and stare her straight in the eye for the first time since invite-only night. A question is on my lips.
Not the smart one.
Not the wisest one.
But—
“Zach!”
Addison Fitzpatrick shrieks my name from the doorway and the curiosity in Denny’s eyes instantly fades. She turns her attention to her fries and even puts her hand beside them as if shielding them from me.
Goddammit.
I turn my ‘thunder’ scowl on Addison, who falters in response but, like the goddamn nuisance she is, strides onward as if that were an invitation.
I fucked her two nights before invite-only night with Laura Whatsherface and she’s acting like she sucked my cock this morning.
When she glowers at Denny and makes a shuffling motion with her hands, my frown deepens. “Denny’s not moving, Addison.”
With a tsk that a bright smile half-shields, she takes a seat beside her.
Unfortunately for me, she brings with her a bunch of our friends.
Pecan’s there with his girl, Hailey, which is unusual as fuck—I swear, she’s only around four minutes minimum before she has to leave for somewhere else.
Alec and Freya are here, as well as the other new kid in the sophomore class—Callan.
He’s with his dog, the one that either cowers or bites, nothing in between.
It mostly started as him tutoring Denny and Pecan, who are flunking a couple classes and needed extra help, but Denny likes him and ever since, he’s been hanging out with us.
She even perks up in her seat at the sight of him, which immediately messes with my head.
The kid has zero baggage, isn’t a manwhore, and is decent all round.
I just know she’ll end up with him if I don’t fix things between us. But how do I fix what—
“Whoa,” Pecan declares as he takes a seat opposite me. “Did someone wake up in a bad mood or what?”
“Told you,” Denny sings.
I scowl at them both. “There’s nothing wrong.”
“Yeah, right. Tell that to folks who didn’t watch you piss your pants in Mrs. Jackson’s class.”
Denny snorts and the rest of the group, apart from Addison, who’s still simpering, chuckles.
“I was five, jackass.”
“I know all your faces, my man,” Pecan chirps then has the audacity to stick up his fingers. “The ‘I need to shit’ face—”
Denny throws a fry at him. “Some of us are eating, moron.”
He ignores her. “The ‘I need to get laid’ face, the ‘I’m hungry’ face, and the ‘I’m com—’”
“We get the picture, Pecan,” Hailey chides when she takes one look at me and appears to recognize that I’m about to launch myself over the table to shut him the hell up.
“If you know all my faces, then what’s this one? Could it be the ‘I’m pissed at you and Denny’ face because you replaced my protein powder with pure cacao yesterday?”
“That’s my concern, dude. I don’t know for sure.” He holds a hand to his heart. “That kind of stunt would ordinarily lead to said cacao being dumped in my bed—” To Hailey, he mutters, “Total sexism. He wouldn’t dare do that to Denny.”
Denny preens because… he’s right.
Even before I recognized the whole tittage situation she has going on, I’d never have dared prank her like that.
Denny might be short. She might have a sweet smile. But she’s deadly.
Peeks continues, “Instead, you’re just growly. I gotta figure this shit out so I can put it in my Zach wiki. I’m going to use it for the unofficial autobiography I’ll write when you win the Stanley Cup eight times.”
Denny hoots. “You mean that you’ll make me write for you.”
Pecan grins. “I’m not feeling the love, D.”
“You wouldn’t. I’m not writing anything unofficial.”
“60/40?”
“40/60 because I know just as much about him as you do.”
“Guys, we don’t even know if I’ll make it to the NHL. There’re a ways to go before—”
A multitude of groans greets my statement. Even Alec, who’s jealous as fuck because he might be the C but he’s a shit player, throws a paper napkin at me.
“You’re heading to the big show, Zach.”
“A torn ACL is all it takes to fuck with my plans,” I tell them truthfully.
The fact that Denny thinks I have a big head was never an issue before.
Now, it is.
It’s a massive issue.
One massive issue in a list of them that makes her see me only as a best friend.
Yes, I’m well aware that it didn’t matter to me before I noticed she had tits and legs. And yes, I know I’m a douche. But she doesn’t have to know that, does she? More than she already does.
Fuck my life.
Denny, not seeming to appreciate my bout of humility, tsks. “What’s with you recently? You’ve been acting weird since invite-only night.”
Addison coughs. “You mean the night the Pies—”
“Addison,” Denny grinds out, not letting her finish the sentence.
“What? You haven’t told them?”
My eyes narrow at the sneer. I can hear the mockery lacing the words and wonder how Addison doesn’t know she’s dancing with death if she attacks D.
She sniffs. “It’s none of their beeswax. Nor is the fact that Mary Gillespie fell down the—”
Addison’s the one to butt in this time. “What happens in the house, stays in the house. How don’t you know that, moron?”
The conversational temperature drops at her words, and Denny, instead of getting in Addison’s face at the insult, bows her head and stares at her fries.
I take a moment to make sure that I’m not losing my mind—because since when does Denny not maintain a fight until she’s blue in the face? And then I look at Pecan, who’s also gaping at the uncharacteristic silence from our mutual bestie.
When Addison looks smugger than ever, I bite off, “Did you just call Denver a moron?”
Her mouth pops open. “It’s not my fault she broke a rule, Zach.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your dumb Greek rules. You better apologize right now or you can get out of this booth.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Her fake baby face might have worked on someone who didn’t have my mom as a role model, but it does shit for me.
“You meant to be a bitch. Don’t lie, Addison.”
“Yeah,” Hailey scolds, earning my eternal gratitude. “If you’re going to be a bitch, then at least own it.”
“Guys, it’s fine,” Denny says weakly.
“No, it isn’t. It’s not fine at all,” I snap, glaring at the woman who dared to talk shit about D IN FRONT OF ME, my Denny, who’s worth a thousand of her.
“Look, I’m sorry, Zach. I didn’t mean to offend anyone.”
“Well, you did. You offended me and you offended Denny and everyone else at this table. And I don’t need your apology. Apologize to the person you insulted.”
Addison, mouth tight and cheeks hot with embarrassment, mumbles, “I’m sorry, Denver.”
Thankfully, Denny doesn’t accept the apology. “How was practice today?”
Alec, who’s not that close to any of us, takes up the mantle and talks about our chances for tomorrow’s game.
It’s our first nonconference in the Hockey East Association against Connecticut so there’s plenty to discuss.
Mostly, I’m just relieved he had the sense not to talk about his BS plan to drum up interest in the team via social media.
Oakwood hasn’t won the Frozen Four in a long ass time, so he wants to get fans invested in the players themselves, rather than the team.
As he throws strategy around, bouncing it between us, he and Pecan take up most of my attention, but then, from the corner of my eye, I notice Addison mutter something to Denny.
Then she does the unthinkable.
She takes one of her fries.
And Denny doesn’t stop her.
What the fuck is happening right now?
I shift closer to Denny. “Are you okay?”
Pecan and Alec keep on talking, but I sense Pecan’s attention drifting.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You never share fries.”
“Lies. I offered you one earlier.”
“It’s not like she can’t afford to share them, Zach,” Addison chimes in, because she obviously cannot read the room.
“Jesus,” Callan mutters.
“Addison, I think I speak for everyone when I ask you to leave our booth.”
Her eyes grow big. “You’re not being serious.”
“Is that all she knows how to say?” Callan asks Denny, who snorts.
“I’m being deadly serious. As serious as anthrax,” is my cold retort.
Then, something Freya said to Denny echoes at the back of my mind.
“Lots of the girls who hang around the team are jealous of you, Denny.”
Addison giggles. Like this is not only a joke but she’s some twelve-year-old, twirling her finger around a pigtail. “It’s all fun between girls, isn't it, Denver?”
“I don’t care if it is,” I dismiss. “Not only do I not see her laughing, I’m sure as fuck not laughing. Now, leave.”
When no one backs her up, she flounces to her feet and storms off. Then, proving she has zero sense, she pauses, spins on her heel, and snipes, “I’ll expect a phone call apologizing to me tonight, Zach. I don’t know what’s with you today but—”
“You’ll be waiting until the next Ice Age for that call.”
She treats us to more flouncing before, finally, we’re free of her bitchiness.
Hailey whistles. “Why don’t you stand up like that for me, Pecan?”
He gawks at her. “Huh?”
Denny’s lips twitch. “Yeah, Pecan. Why don’t you stand up for me either?”
As he sputters his way through a reply, I see her peek at me.
What I want to do is grab her hand and hold it in mine.
What I end up doing is gently nudging her elbow.
She shoots me a timid smile.
“Why did you let her get away with that bullshit?” I ask her quietly, while the others rib Pecan.
Her shoulder hitches. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does!”
“She’s your chick du jour, Zach. It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with them and it won’t be the last.”
My jaw locks. “You should have said something.”
“There’s no point. Addison means nothing to me. That’s why I didn’t waste my breath on her. She has your attention for the moment and when she doesn’t, that’s when I’ll have the last laugh.”
“How long’s this being going on?”
“Since you grew into that face.”
I ball my hands into fists as that stuff about puck rabbits suddenly makes sense. “If I’d have known—”
“They’re usually smarter than Addison. Look, it’s fine, Zach.”
“No! Actually. It isn’t. If anyone gives you shit again, I want you to tell me.”
“Anyone?”
“Anyone,” I repeat.
“Including Dr. Langton?”
I smirk. “If you want me to get into your philosophy professor’s face, then sure, I can do that. Just for you.”
“I’d pay to see that,” she crows then, with a nudge of her fingers, knocks the basket of fries toward me. “I think you earned one.”
I bite back a laugh, and though I still wish I had the right to grab her hand, instead I hook my arm over her shoulders and do what any best friend would—give her a noogie until she’s shrieking…