Chapter 17
Jazmine Allen
I t is common knowledge that when you are looking forward to an event, time moves at snail pace.
I have been counting the minutes until Willow arrives since our messages yesterday. Usually, I am completely focused on Dr Yang’s class, but when you haven’t seen your best friend of thirteen years in over six months, it’s hard to pay attention.
After our graduation from Meadow Beach High School, Willow moved back to Nevada with her family and enrolled at the University of Nevada. Their ice hockey team was one of two, who offered her a position regardless of her gender. Lakewood was her other option; however, when she found out Jayden accepted their offer, she ran in the opposite direction.
People shuffle around me, heading towards the exits. I follow the groups of students out, leaving all the buildings behind to find my car. Without a care, I toss my belongings onto the back seat and follow the highway to Phoenix Airport.
The trip is short, only a ten-minute drive away from campus. Aeroplanes fly over my head as I zig zag through the crowds to find the gate number Willow messaged me. I spin around on my heels, searching the faces that surround me.
My eyes stop on fiery red hair which is pulled into a high ponytail. Willow is sporting an oversized white shirt with thirteen stitched across the front and back, while her black denim shorts are just visible as the shirt hangs over.
“Willow!”
The red-haired girl runs over, her purple suitcase trailing behind. “Jaz,” she pulls me into a tight hug, her lavender scent is a comfort after months apart.
Our car ride home is filled with conversation—mostly gossip, laughter and excitement. Willow continues to poke fun at my hesitant partnership with Theo and the attraction I wish would disappear.
She tells me all about her adventures in Nevada and how her preseason training is progressing. The season starts in less than a month, so she is excited. I’m proud of everything Willow does, she has received a lot of push back—usually from men, but Willow is not a quitter.
“Speaking of hockey players,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Don’t even mention his name,” Willow hisses.
“I have already told Jayden off, so don’t stir him up.”
“Fine, let’s forget about everyone and get drunk.”
I burst into a fit of laughter. “You read my mind,”
***
“Shot. Shot. Shot.”
The chanting in Frankie’s bar is background noise as Willow and I down our third shot of the night. The migraine that will appear in the morning as well as the angel on my shoulder, is telling me to slow the fuck down. But I haven’t let loose in so long. The last time I tried I was nearly assaulted so that put a damper on the night.
I forgot how much fun Willow and I have together. Especially when we are severely drunk. I have lost count of the number of drinks we had since Willow and I had a shot before we left my apartment.
Someone tugs at my arm, forcing me to fully acknowledge where I am. Willow is once again pulling me onto the dance floor, screaming something along the lines of: “ this is my song.”
We dance the night away, but after running out of breath, I find the two of us a table.
“This is so much fun!” Willow screams, as if I’m not next to her. “I’ve missed you. My friends in Nevada are bitches. They just want to fuck someone on the hockey team and think I’m their way in."
“You don’t need them. I’ve always got your back.”
“But now that I’ve got you drunk,” Willow pauses. “I want to know more about this Theodore Knight. How hot are we talking on a scale of one to Greek god?”
I let out a noise that is a combination of a sigh and a grunt. “I wish he was a fucking one, that would solve all my problems. I mean, where did all those muscles even come from?”
The words fall from my mouth without protest. Denying my attraction to Knight is hard, but worth it. I don’t need distractions. And being involved with someone is how you lose control. I don't even know where we stand. Are we friends? Acquaintances?
Willow's voice interrupts me. “So, what I’m hearing is, you should fuck him.”
“That’s…” Think drunk brain, what’s the word? Why can’t I think?
“The best idea I’ve ever had. I agree.” Willow reaches across the table to snatch my phone.
“No,” I attempt to get my phone back, but Willow jumps onto the wooden table and scrolls through my contacts.
“Found you. I’m putting it on speaker,”
I think my life is over. I actually am going to die from embarrassment. My cheeks heat and it's no longer from the alcohol. I try to reach over for the phone again but it' s no use.
The dial tone drags on but Theodore's voice grabs my attention. “Hello? Princess, are you okay?” His tone drips with concern, while Willow swoons at the nickname.
“He calls you Princess, girl. Why haven’t you jumped his bones?”
Why haven’t I tried to have sex with him? Because I’m trying to deny all my feelings. And I can’t have sex without forming an emotional bond with a person.
“Who is this? Where is Jazmine?”
“Sorry, I am Willow Rogers. AKA her best friend and honorary sister. We were just discussing you and—”
Finally, I see an opening. Standing up on the seat, I grab my phone back from Willow, all while trying to think how I am going to save myself.
“Hi, Theodore. I’m here, this is a big misunderstanding and I apologise for interrupting what I am sure is a thrilling night for you,”
Theodore doesn’t answer, instead I hear mumbling of different voices. “Hello. Theodore? Are you still there?”
“Where the fuck are you?”
Willow and I look towards each other immediately at my brother’s voice. Mischief swirls in Willow’s eyes as she takes the phone back off me. I try to reprimand her, mouthing no multiple times. She doesn’t heed my warning.
“Awe, did you miss me, Jay Jay?”
“Red, I swear to god if you’ve gotten my sister plastered— ”
“You’ll what? Jaz is a big girl, she can handle herself. If you’ll excuse us, we are going to dance on the bar. Maybe I’ll find a boy toy to fuck,”
I sigh into my hands as Willow ends the call and passes the phone back.
“Seriously, stirring him up might be all fun and games but eventually he will crack. And I won’t be there to intervene,”
Willow shrugs her shoulders. “Enough about him, I know for a fact that dancing on top of a bar is on your college bucket list.”
Sure. Let’s ignore all our problems and hope they go away.
Spoiler alert: they don’t.