5. Chapter 5 #3
“That is a very major point, actually.” She tilts her glass toward me as she speaks, making the wine slosh around.
“No, Nora. This one is just...” I search for the word and come up with nothing useful. “Wrong.”
“Okay?” Nora leans back, tucking one leg under herself.
I drain another sip and set the glass down before I can hide behind it forever.
“He’s kind of...” I pause, looking for the right words. “Intense. A lot.”
“Is he staff or a hockey player?”
“Hockey player.” I wince because I know why she’s asking.
Nora studies my face, then slowly reaches for her phone between us.
“What are you doing?”
“Research.”
“Oh no.”
“Absolutely yes. You do not get to drop something like that and expect me to proceed with no visuals. Name.”
“I don’t know it,” I lie, side-eyeing her.
“Lilly.” She looks up at me through her brows. “His name.”
I sigh, dropping back into the couch.
“Zed Mercer,” I mutter, feeling like I’m summoning Bloody Mary just by saying his name.
“Zed Mercer,” she echoes with deep nods as she starts typing his name.
I get up just to do something with my hands and move to my toiletries.
Behind me, Nora gasps. “Lilly.”
I close my eyes and brace myself before turning around.
“Holy shit.” She angles the phone toward me.
I only catch a glimpse because I already know what he looks like. Pale eyes, black hair, the kind of face that would be beautiful if it weren’t made unsettling by the person wearing it. Or maybe the opposite. Maybe it’s more unsettling because it’s so beautiful.
“No, I’m sorry. This is absurd.” Nora looks back at the screen. “And is he tatted up all over?”
“He is,” I catch myself saying before I can stop it.
“How do you know that?” she gasps.
I don’t answer.
“You saw him shirtless.” Her voice drops.
My pulse kicks immediately, as if my body had been waiting all night for someone to say it out loud.
“I did,” I mutter, my hands flying up to cover my face as I look at her through my fingers.
“Oh my God,” Nora says, delighted. “You’re blushing.” She tosses the phone onto the couch and shifts forward, fully invested now. “Start from the beginning.”
I let out a groan into my palms and drop them to my sides. I walk back to the couch, toss the toiletries bag into the duffel, and sink beside her.
And I tell her. I tell her about overhearing him in my dad’s office before I knew who he was.
The first look at him. Then the rink, Dr. Simon’s office.
Then Stacey dragging me over to him. Then me humiliating myself by blurting out the tattoo artist lie.
I tell her about the hallway, the way he turned a normal conversation into something crooked.
I repeat the conversation as closely as I can remember it.
“What?” Nora sits up straighter. “And what did you do?”
“What do you think I did?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Based on his level of attractiveness? Hard to say.”
“I told him he was inappropriate,” I say, making a face at her. “Which he absolutely was.”
“Damn.”
I laugh once. “That’s exactly the level of insight I was hoping for.”
“No, like...” She shifts closer, pointing at her phone. “He’s is not even your usual type. This man looks like he bites people. And you so have a crush on him.”
“I really don’t.” I shake my head. “I’m angry.”
“Your version of angry is looking a lot like horny, babe.” I shoot her a look, and she lifts both hands. “I am not blaming you, let’s be clear on that. I just... what’s stopping you?”
“Are you really asking me that?” I mutter, dragging a pillow into my lap.
She nudges my foot with hers. “Is this just because he’s not your usual type, or is this about a particular hockey ex of yours?”
“Definitely both.” I huff out a humorless laugh. “I have no appetite left for hockey players and their egos and their excuses and... puck bunnies everywhere.”
Nora nods slowly. She knows the entire lore.
I met Liam when I was still figure skating competitively.
He was charming, the kind of guy people like immediately because he’s good at being liked.
And for a while, it was easy. Then it wasn’t.
Then it was me translating scraps into meaning because I wanted my better version of him to be real more often than it was.
“Has he tried talking to you again?” she asks.
I don’t need her to specify who.
“Last week.” I give her a flat look.
“What did he want?”
I pick at a loose thread on the pillowcase. “What he always wants. To feel sorry for himself in my direction. Tell me he misses me. That he’s sorry.”
“Drunk?”
“Obviously.”
She snorts into her wine.
I shrug, but there’s no humor in it this time. “He doesn’t miss me. He just hates losing at any game he plays.”
“Exactly!” Nora tips her glass toward mine, and we cheers.
Now there’s a situation with yet another hockey player. Except Zed doesn’t feel like Liam at all. Zed feels like the kind of mistake that doesn’t just break your heart but leaves your mental health ruined for a long while.
I look over at my duffel bag.
Three days.
Three days to get my head straight. Surrounded by kids and staff and cabins and whatever else the Academy’s planned.
And no Zed Mercer there.
That much I’m sure of.