Chapter 1
Fantasizing about my best friend, Ryan Wilder, has got to be the funniest yet most awkward thing ever.
He’ll ask me to rate his abs, and I have no choice but to gladly check him out.
I start screaming on the inside, internally kicking my feet, because yes, he is hot, and yes, I have permission to look. But I have to remind him that he’s not all that and I’ve seen better.
Most days, he’ll lean in to kiss my cheek to say goodbye, and then I’ll start daydreaming about turning my head just a little to meet his lips.
One time I accidentally did, and we laughed and laughed about that one time we almost kissed. Like it was the funniest thing in the world. Hehe, haha, Ryan, that was disgusting. I would never want to kiss you.
No.
Freaking.
Way.
Meanwhile…
Yes!
Freaking!
Way!
I, Addison Christina Montgomery, would melt his hockey stick if given the chance. I would let him slide his puck right into this hole. Wow, I took that far. I love that visual for me. But it’s not something I think about that often, however, it is a thought sometimes.
Sometimes I want to shout, send your puck into this net, Ry . It’s even worse that he’s the goaltender, known as the China Wall in the NHL, cockblocking me with every chance he gets.
“Baddie,” Ryan rips me from my daydream. Melting his hockey stick would be quite the scene right now. After all, we are best friends. “Do you know why you’re my best friend?”
His tone is playful and boyish as he sips the coffee I made for him. I named a drink after him, Cryin’ Ryan , at the coffee shop I own.
As I look at him, it’s moments like these that I deeply wonder why I am his best friend. I mean, I get it. I’m fun, cool, simple, and laugh at his jokes. But we’re quite the opposite. He’s a cinnamon roll, and I am definitely not that. I’m along the lines of an ice cube.
When I look at him, he has that fresh crispiness to him. It’s all that cold air in the hockey rink that leaves him looking like he’s got a fresh suntan.
“Because you support me,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee.
I sit down on the chair next to him and sip my Baddie Addie coffee. “That’s why you’re my best friend actually,” I say to him.
Immediately his eyes are staring into mine. “But it’s different. Your idea of support is more of like words, not so much of anything else.”
I laugh. “Because anything else is inappropriate.” He’s referring to money. And only money. If I need help moving my couch, I definitely request his effort.
He leans forward, finishing off his coffee. The scent of his fresh shower on his skin.
I continue, “Plus, you’re referring to my words, too. I don’t do anything else.”
“You show up to all my games.”
I shrug, holding my coffee. “You come to my coffee shop.”
“And you don’t let me pay,” he counters.
“And you shouldn’t have to.”
He smiles. “This was meant to be an appreciation moment between two friends, not an argument.”
I lean back and hide my smirk because right…he’s appreciating our friendship. Meanwhile, I worship it. I want the next level. At least I think I do.
He’s waiting for me to speak, but I take the last sip of my coffee instead.
He’s watching me, still waiting.
I wipe my lips and say, “I’m not arguing, but you’re not paying a dime because the last thing I need is your dad thinking I’m after your money.”
He lifts a brow because he knows I’m right. Coach Wilder is an asshole, but he is Ryan’s NHL coach and his father. He thinks everyone is after his children’s fame and fortune.
He shakes his head. “It’s coffee.”
I continue, “I appreciate you too, Ry.”
We sit in silence as he observes me. I feel like I’m under his spotlight, so I stand. “Now it’s time that I leave because Hailey is coming by for the weekend, right?”
He nods, glancing at what’s in front of him. I don’t think he’s very excited about that, but I don’t press.
“I’ll see you on Monday for our run.”
He nods.
I tap his shoulder and smile at him, avoiding a kiss on the cheek, and then I leave.
My fingers burn under this scalding hot paper bag filled with one croissant and one donut.
I’m balancing a tray of two extremely hot coffees.
The steam filtering through the tiny hole on the lid reminds me that if I don’t balance this correctly, it will burn me.
But I’m the best friend anyone could ever ask for, so Ryan better thank me the moment I can get this door open.
I wince when I turn the knob because the splattering coffee has no remorse.
“Fricking crap,” I hiss, finally pushing the door open.
I step into Ryan’s ridiculous house. It shouldn’t even be called a house because it’s bigger than that.
Immediately the scent of him hits me with the wind.
This smell is like coming home after a long day.
But it’s morning, and this isn’t my home.
My elbow slams the front door closed, which I instantly regret because the coffee spills on me again.
A figure in the kitchen jumps and makes a frightened high-pitched noise, and I’m not surprised it’s not Ryan. There’s a woman in a purple spaghetti strap with matching short shorts clutching her chest like I’m an intruder about to attack her. She’s leaning against the counter, terrified.
“Don’t!” she shouts, and I roll my eyes, ignoring her to set down the coffee on the kitchen island separating us. I need to grab a paper towel or something to clean my hand. I glance up at the woman. Why does she reach for the nearest pan? When she’s white-knuckling the handle, I laugh at her.
Hailey Fischer.
Yeah, I know her name. I even know her birthday because Ryan tells me everything.
Let’s see, they’ve been together for almost two months.
She loves raspberry sherbet, pees every five minutes, and can’t cook a steak.
I eye the pan in her hand as I wipe the coffee off me.
If she thinks she is intimidating me with that look on her face, she is so wrong.
“I’m Addison.” I’ve been Ryan’s best friend since forever. The person who can waltz into his home without knocking because well, it’s me.
She’s still holding the pan firmly. I would love for her to give this a go. I did not know she was here, so there’s only food and coffee for two.
“Addie?” I try again, hoping it rings a bell.
“Oh,” she chuckles. “Baddie. Addie. Yeah.” She lowers the pan. “I wasn’t expecting you. Ryan didn’t mention it.”
“Where is Ryan?” I ask, keeping it short.
It is six on a Monday morning, and I know for a fact he’s awake.
He just hasn’t heard me yet. There’s only one other person I know who is an early bird like Ryan, and that person is me.
Hailey doesn’t seem too excited to be awake this early.
Her eyes are tired as she reaches for the coffee maker.
“He’s upstairs.”
Upstairs? Shouldn’t he be ready for our run?
Hailey doesn’t look pleased as she starts making herself coffee. “We already made coffee.” Her eyes peer down at the two coffee cups I brought. “But I accidentally spilled it on him, so yeah,” she points, annoyance in her tone. “He’s in the shower.”
I don’t reply as I take the croissant out and peel the corner.
I throw it in my mouth, glancing anywhere but in her direction.
Ryan’s kitchen is double the size of mine.
A lot prettier too. White with gold accents, a drawer for every cooking tool anyone would ever need.
The window overlooks his incredible backyard.
There’s a fire pit that brings back fun memories from his housewarming several months ago.
It’s much more comfortable in here than at my dump.
But my dump affords me a ten-minute drive here and a five-minute drive to my coffee shop, so I’m not complaining.
“If he doesn’t throw his clothes in the washer right away, it’ll stain.”
She dries the two coffee cups that were recently washed. “He already put it in the wash because I told him to.”
I plop another piece of croissant into my mouth and smile. I grab my coffee, warm my hands with it, and take a sip under Hailey’s gaze. I need to get started on our breakfast if I’m going to awkwardly wait for him to get out of the shower.
Our new tradition of Monday runs used to be Wednesday morning runs, but his NHL career switched that up for us.
Now Mondays work best. Back in college, Ryan and I used to bump into each other in the local coffee shop every morning at six.
It turns out, we were on the same path. It’s not that either of us were loners or weirdos but none of our friends were early risers like us.
Between my business degree and my part-time manager job at another local coffee shop, I didn’t have much of a social life.
Not until I met the Ryan Wilder of the college’s Honey Badger hockey team.
Best player, a total goofball with a good heart.
Did I mention he’s easy on the eyes? Overall, I highly recommend finding a Ryan Wilder out there in the world.
On a random Wednesday morning, my hair was slicked into a high ponytail and my rugged running shoes from high school were on my feet. Ryan approached me, and I’ll never forget it because I thought the only reason he acknowledged my existence was because he accidentally took my coffee cup.
“Addison?” he said, and I perked up because he knew my name. “Do you run after this? I think I’ve seen you a few Wednesdays.”
I smiled because that was my Wednesday routine.
In fact, I was so flattered that I didn’t realize until months later that he did have my coffee in his hands.
He joked that he accidentally took a sip and knew we’d be friends because he liked my order.
Then he invited me to run with him on his route.
I thought for sure his invitation was a facade.
Aren’t most jocks assholes? Not this one.
We talked while running. And then we wouldn’t shut up.
I started to know him better than I knew myself and vice versa.