Chapter Four
El
The only thing that was currently on social media was Cedar’s win.
Instagram. Facebook. Snapchat. Everywhere.
Every single post was about the new champions.
Matt and the rest of the boys boarded the bus early this morning, half asleep and hungover after our late night. I didn’t go to bed until four in the morning. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been up so late.
Cedar was only an hour away, and from the looks of it, the boys had hundreds of people waiting for them outside of the hockey arena to celebrate and give them a warm welcoming home.
Thankfully, our parents were in no rush to head out. They were grabbing food in the hotel restaurant while I met Kota and Bridget at a café across the street for brunch.
We all looked rough. With matching bags under our eyes, half-brushed hair, sweatshirts and leggings, one could only guess we had a long night. Being honest, I rolled out of bed thirty minutes prior.
I was normally one to at least put mascara on when I left the house so that I didn’t look half asleep, but even that was a stretch for today.
Kota and Bridget sat in the booth across from me, and we all dove for our menus, nearly knocking over the waters our waitress had brought out.
“I’m so hungry,” B groaned.
“Same,” Kota said. “Everything looks so good. Eggs, yum. Pancakes! Crepes!”
“I looooveeee crepes,” I expressed, eyes jumping straight to the sweets section. My stomach felt like it was running on nothing but gasoline, and I needed food immediately to eradicate the queasiness. Banana and Nutella crepes sounded like the perfect cure right now.
B studied the menu, thinking out loud. “Lane hates crepes.”
Kota looked annoyed. “Who the hell hates crepes?”
“He thinks they’re too thin.”
“That’s why they come rolled up. He’s such a weirdo. Love him though,” Kota shut her menu. “I know what I want.”
“Same,” I said.
“Same,” B echoed. “I’m gonna be basic and get what I always do.”
With all three menus abandoned on the table, we stared at each other in hungover silence for a moment. I think I could say for the whole table that last night was an absolute blast. The boys played their hearts out, and they deserved that win.
It was special to spend their night with them, to recognize their hard work and honor their achievement. I hadn’t seen Matt that happy in a long time, maybe ever. He was on top of the world, and I loved it.
As if reading my mind, Bridget asked, “So, how was everyone’s night?”
Something about the way both of them peeked at me with utter mischief made it seem like the question was only meant for me.
“My night was good,” I answered. “How was yours?”
Kota whined, “Oh, c’mon! Give us the details!”
I laughed, raising a shoulder. “What details? We were altogether for most of the night.”
Folding her hands on the table, Kota leaned in, speaking like the question was critical. “Did you and Matt confess your love for each other?”
“No!” I yelped. “We’re not in love with each other!”
“Mhm, right,” Kota sipped her water. The sight made me thirsty, and I did the same, chugging down a quarter of my glass in one go.
The look on B’s face made it seem like she was holding back. She was fighting a smile, a light pull between her brows.
“What?” I asked, a bit snippier than intended.
Unbothered by my tone, she remained gentle, and for a second, I could’ve sworn there was a halo above her. “It just... seems like there might be something there.”
A faint throb in my head was starting; this conversation was not hangover-friendly. I already had to shoot this down every time I saw Hadley. I didn’t need it from everyone else too.
“Can we change the subject?” I sighed, rubbing my forehead lightly.
“Fine,” Kota griped.
With only a few weeks left until the girls, as well as their boyfriends, would be making the move to Chicago, I asked, “Are you guys excited to move?”
“Yeah,” Kota nodded. “Are you gonna come visit?”
“Of course.”
“With Matt?”
I frowned while Kota gave a devious grin. My scowl only deepened when she let out a groan.
“Ugh, c’mon! Give us something.”
B’s hand came up, signaling for Kota to backtrack. “Just let them figure it out. You’re always so pushy.”
Knowing Crew, who was nosy as hell and had zero patience, I could see why they butted heads at first before realizing they were practically the same person.
Last night was the first time I got to spend time with both of them as a couple. Same with Bridget and Lane. It seemed like their disaster of a living arrangement turned out to be one of the best, most fated things ever.
Kota sighed again, pouting as if we’d just told her to leave the table. In this moment, she reminded me of Hadley. Two bold, smart-ass, spunky girls who’d probably get along like peanut butter and jelly.
The loud and dramatic tsk sound that Kota made with her tongue, along with the eye roll she gave sparked the attention of a nearby table of boys who all smiled cheekily. One even gave a wink.
Gross.
Not to mention that we all just looked like we walked out of a dumpster fire before strolling into this restaurant. What was wrong with some men?
“Ew,” Kota muttered, face scrunched. “Anyways, it’s because I have a gift for knowing when two people should be together.”
“Name one couple you helped put together,” Bridget challenged.
I sat back, waiting for Kota to fold and admit how off she was. But if I thought that moment was coming, then I was the one who was way off. I should’ve known better than to think Dakota Darling would back down from any type of challenge.
“Crew and me,” she blurted out.
My head tipped back in laughter. “That doesn’t count!”
“Ugh. Bridget and Lane.”
By the way Bridget’s face screwed into utter confusion, I’d say that answer was no good either.
“You didn’t even know we were dating for the first few months,” B cackled.
“Fuck,” Kota murmured quietly. “Um, Patricia and Luke!”
“They broke up after a month!”
“Fuck again. Alright, whatever. I give up. But I’m promising the day will come when Matt and El get together.”
Thankfully, our waitress showed up at just the right time, and I had to shield my laughter as Kota mimicked Bridget, lip syncing her order while Bridget gave it.
B gave her a light smack as our waitress sauntered off. “You’re not nice.”
Oh my God, they were the female versions of Lane and Crew.
“Hello, ladies.”
Glancing up at the baby-faced boy who had winked just a bit ago, all three of us gave the same expression that read— who are you and what do you want?
He wasn’t very tall, probably only a few inches taller than me if I were to stand up. With no facial hair and a persona that read fratboy wannabe, he slid his hands into his jean pockets, right past the hem of his beat-up Patagonia sweatshirt.
“I’m Heath, and—”
“Stop right there, Heath,” Kota folded her arms across the table. She looked like she wanted to bite his head off. “How old are you?”
“I’m eighteen. How old—”
“That’s crazy,” Kota fell back against the booth.
I butted in with a cringe. “Heath, I’m sorry, but I think we’re a bit too old for you.”
He threw us what I could only assume was his most charming smile, and I bit back laughter watching Bridget turn away like she was going to gag.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I like older women.”
Now, I was holding back a gag.
We were all twenty-one or twenty-two. Doing the math, three to four years didn’t seem like a drastic age gap, but at this age? Eighteen and early twenties were two completely different worlds.
Just starting college versus just finishing.
Ready to fuck around and have fun versus ready for a commitment.
Gaining that first taste of independence versus having established independence.
Not to mention drinking illegally versus drinking legally.
It also wasn’t even noon yet. Was he not getting the memo that now was not a great time to hit on women?
Kota’s eyes blazed with annoyance. That brazen strike of hers was coming out. “I’m gonna stop you again, Heath. We were at the bar all night. Somewhere you’re definitely not acquainted with. So, we’re all violently hungover and I’m trying not to yak on your shoes.”
He took a teeny step backwards, that confident persona fading to horror. “Got it,” he swung around on his heels, briskly shooting back to his table.
Kota scoffed. “I hate men.”
“Except for ours,” B corrected her.
“Yeah,” she smiled to herself. “Except for ours.”