Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Len
My heart thunders. After bribing a security guard with charm I don’t actually possess, I walk-run my way through the arena tunnels.
I wait in the area where they all converge until I see him turn the corner. Around him, his teammates laugh and smile. The excitement on their faces makes me want to jump right out of my shoes.
I had a hand in that.
Zaiah knocks his helmet with another teammate’s like they’re toasting with wine glasses. His sweat-soaked hair—still dripping—a testament to how hard he played. He owned that rink with passion, with determination. The sound from the crowd was nearly deafening, and Zaiah certainly played up to the moment.
Coach and I arranged cameras everywhere, not only for Zaiah, but for his teammates, too. Hopefully, this is the start of a better future for Warner hockey. They can use the footage for promo on social media, the Warner athletics site, and of course, it would be nice to have highlight reels to wow the crowd with before games.
Zaiah gets closer, and I walk out of the shadows. A few players block my way, so I sidestep around them. I can barely contain my excitement…
But when the path to him clears, I stop.
Someone else has their arms around Zaiah. Nails painted bright pink. Wearing a myriad of bracelets. No matter how badly I want it to be Iz, it’s not.
My stomach falls. It’s Trish.
Years of memories collide inside me with the force of a Mack truck. I back up against the wall, breathing heavily. She tries to talk to him, but he shakes his head and turns. Soon, he’s swallowed up by his teammates walking into the locker room.
As the tunnel empties out, she places her hands on her hips. Her gaze narrows, lip thinning.
What is she doing here?
I try to make myself walk away, but her presence freezes my feet to the cement as scene after scene of what I thought was our friendship plays out inside my head. What a farce. It turned out to be a master class in manipulation. Stringing me along like she did Zaiah. I’ve long suspected I meant nothing to her, only there for her amusement.
She turns, and my stomach clenches when she meets my gaze. I’m like a deer in the headlights. Fear ripples through me, but I force myself to stand up straighter.
You are stronger now.
You’re wise to her games.
You know who she really is.
She strides toward me and despite all my positive self-talk, I want to throw up.
“Wow. Never thought I’d see you at a hockey game. Never thought you’d write about one either.”
“I guess that’s a hello?”
She smirks. “You’re right. Hello, old friend.” She looks me over. “You look…good.”
It’s that. The little hesitation that says everything about her. I used to make excuses for it, but now I know it’s a way of elevating herself. The way I used to lie to myself and say she did it because she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I was caught up in her web, and she was the master spinner.
Instead of shrinking down like I would have and asking for advice, I smile. “Thanks, I know.”
Her brows rise almost imperceptibly, but you don’t live with someone for years and not pick up cues. Sticking up for yourself only eggs her on, but I’m not the meek little friend anymore.
“So, I was in your apartment—”
“What the hell, Trish?”
She shrugs. “I figured you’d weasel your way into Knightley this year and told the front desk I’d forgotten something in our room. They gave me a key. I had to see it for myself, and I have to tell you, I didn’t see you as the dating-my-leftovers type. Then I thought about it some more and wondered why I thought that way at all. All of that stuff you said to me before—about Zaiah—and what you really wanted was him to yourself. Kudos. Well played.”
“I’m not playing a game. Only sad people like you play games.”
A flash of something pings in her gaze. It’s not that the truth hit her, Trish is more complex than that. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe she’s simpler. She operates on her wants, kind of like a toddler. Superficial. Spoiled.
“I’m sure Zaiah will be interested to hear how you orchestrated all of this.”
I laugh, and she tilts her head in confusion which amps me up. “Trust me, Zaiah’s aware, and from what I saw when you desperately threw yourself at him, he wasn’t having it. So, please, tell away. I’m more than interested to see him put you in your place for cheating on him. Or are you delusional enough to attempt to pull off the lie that I also orchestrated that? Did I put that other guy’s dick inside you? I’m curious. Is that the lie you’re going with?”
Her face turns red, and I imagine her simmering like a pan of water about to boil.
I take a step toward her. Part of me wants to tell her to stay away from Zaiah, but she would see that as a challenge. Besides, I’m not scared of anything happening between them and she needs to know it.
I pull out my phone. “Should I text him to meet you?”
“I can contact him myself.”
“Pretty sure he has you blocked. Unless you’re the kind of stalker that got a different phone number to contact him. It’s cool. I’ll send him something right now telling him you want to…what exactly? Get him back? Tell him lies about me to make me look like some sort of creeper?”
She shakes her head. “Wow. You finally grew a backbone. Congratulations.”
“Yeah, turns out I had to because there are evil bitches like you in the world.” I start to type on my phone. I don’t message Zaiah. I want him to celebrate with his team, but I do text Iz and tell her SOS in the tunnels. If I can’t talk Trish out of here, his family showing up will do the trick.
“You were always jealous of me.”
I turn my head. “Actually, I think you’re right. But then you showed your true colors, and now I don’t think of you at all.”
“Come on, Nor. This is stupid.” Her eyes round, like the emoji with the sad, watering eyes, and she puts some whine into her voice. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this. We were such good friends.”
The way her demeanor switches in an instant means she’s a full-on psychopath. At the very least, she’s an amazing actress.
Thankfully, I’m not malleable to her underhanded charms anymore. I have her clocked, and she knows it. “Were we, though? I think I was just a pawn of yours, and now you’re mad that you don’t have it to play with.”
“How can you be so mean? First, you tell Zaiah about me. We were best friends. Where’s the loyalty? Then, you don’t contact me when I leave, and when I come back, I find out you’re fucking my boyfriend. And you’re saying I’m the liar? The bad person?”
Her voice has risen a few octaves, drawing the attention of a few of the rink staff. I wave at everyone who’s turned to look at us. “Hope you’re enjoying the show. This is called someone throwing a tantrum when they don’t get what they want .”
Trish’s eyes flash again. Surprise this time. Disbelief that I didn’t cave as soon as she turned the tables and pretended to be the victim.
“You don’t affect me anymore,” I say, stepping closer. “I have real friends. I have a great boyfriend. I certainly don’t need your master manipulations in my life.” I stare her down for a few seconds, my fingertips buzzing. I send up a silent thank you that I’m actually saying everything that I’ve dreamed of throwing in her face. “What made you show up, anyway? I’m sure you didn’t happen to be in the area. Did another one of your unsuspecting victims figure you out, so you decided to prey on an old one?”
She swallows. “Turns out, I still follow all of Warner’s socials. I saw your article and the social media about the team. It reminded me of what a good fuck Zaiah was, so I came back for some of that. When I went to his old room, some rando told me he was living with his girlfriend in Knightley. Of course, I never in a million years thought it was you.”
Ha. So there’s the truth. She didn’t go to Knightley first. Zaiah was her object all along.
“To my surprise, the doormat at the desk told me his roommate’s name.”
“And you thought you’d make yourself comfortable in our apartment?”
“Oh, don’t play the victim. You fucked me over, Nor.”
“My name isn’t Nor. You’d know that if you were ever my friend, so no, I didn’t fuck my friend over. I fucked a lying, cheating, gaslighting bitch over. You were never my friend. You only used me.”
“ Like a pawn. Yeah, I heard you before.” She shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable, making up so many lies about me. You had to make me the bad guy, otherwise you would’ve felt horrible for taking my seconds.”
“Don’t you dare talk about Zaiah like that. He’s no one’s seconds. He’s not someone you come back to because you remembered how good of a lay he was. Your pettiness is showing, and it isn’t attractive.”
“At least I start out attractive.”
I swallow, unable to keep the flinch off my face. Always straight to the jugular with her. “Excuse me if I don’t trust your eyesight. It leads you to terrible decisions like treating people like shit, cheating on people, using people—”
“—and in general, just being a horrible bitch,” a voice snaps.
Trish spins, and I grin when I spot Iz a few paces behind her.
She looks Trish up and down. “Look at the trash. Don’t they clean this place up?”
Mr. and Mrs. James wait near the exit. Thank God because if something awful comes out of my mouth, I don’t want them to think badly of me.
“Aww, Iz,” Trish says, opening her arms.
Iz ignores her and comes to stand next to me. I swear she takes after her brother because she appears taller, more grown up with her don’t-fuck-with-me face. “It’s Miss James to you.”
“Excuse me?”
The evilest grin turns up the corners of Izzy’s mouth. “I’m waiting for the day when you’ve completely talked yourself into a corner and everyone finds out who you truly are so you end up being a maid in my mansion where I sit back and eat popcorn while watching you clean up after me. Every once in a while, I make it interesting by tossing down kernels right in front of your stupid face, watching you get angrier and angrier. But that only makes me laugh louder.”
Trish’s face scrunches up, but I sputter out a laugh. “That was oddly specific.”
“I’ve daydreamed about it for a long time.” She throws her arms over my shoulder like her brother does. “Have you met Len? Take a good look because this is what a real girlfriend looks like.”
Trish peers from me to Iz and back again. Her brain is turning. I can see it. Churning and churning. Imagine having to live your life looking for the next angle, the next move, because you couldn’t be your authentic self. I’m starting to feel bad for her.
Not that bad. Maybe just a micro-feeling. The smallest of sads, definitely not something you can see with the naked eye.
When I realize she doesn’t have anything to say to that, I wave to her. “Bye, Trish.”
That’s it. That’s everything. That’s what I can offer a so-called friend that I lived with for the better part of three years. The person I told my secrets to.
When she walks away, sadness creeps over me. It’s like saying goodbye to something, even if it all ended up a lie. The only good thing I can say about Trish right now is that she showed me what I won’t accept, and you know what? Maybe I should thank her for that.
Do I think she’s all bad? No. I think somewhere, things went wrong in her brain. I think deep down, she’s actually a very scared, insecure person, but she’s not ready to see that yet, and it’s not my responsibility to show her. I can cut that tether and be done with it, sending Trish to the barren desert of my brain where I keep everything else I’d rather not think about.
She sees Zaiah’s parents, and for a second, she stops. However, she must think better of approaching them because she keeps walking.
Good.
“Duuuuuuuude, what the puck?” Iz finally rants.
I turn toward her. “She just showed up. She threw her arms around Zaiah like they were still dating.”
“Ew. Oh.” Iz’s eyes go wide. “You know he hates her, right?”
I wave her worries away. “He pushed her away. It’s the audacity.”
“Let me guess, she saw all the stuff you did and decided to come check it out?”
“Not exactly. She went into territory I’m sure you’d rather not hear.”
The Jameses start walking toward us, so I wave.
“Like what?” Iz asks.
“You don’t want to know.”
“I’m dying to know, actually.”
“Okay… She came because she remembered your brother was a good—”
“Don’t say it.”
“Told you.”
“I swear, this friendship will only work if we never talk about your sex life with my brother. I will vomit.”
I laugh. “Trust me, I’m good with that.”
“Yikes,” Mrs. James says. “I hope that awful girl didn’t bother you.” She exchanges a look with Zaiah’s dad.
“Oh, her? I thought she was a street person. I gave her directions.”
Iz can barely keep a straight face, and Zaiah’s mom’s eyes light up.
“Well…” She walks forward, giving me a gigantic hug. “What you’ve done for Zaiah is incredible. I haven’t seen him skate like that in a long time.” Her words are muffled as she talks into my hair, but I close my eyes, soaking it in. “I’m sure he’s so thrilled to have you in his life. I know I am.”
When she backs away, tears well in her eyes. I swallow, keeping the emotion at bay that wants to bubble to the surface. Mr. James gives me a hug, too, patting me on the shoulder.
“Oh, I hope you two get married,” Mrs. James says, clapping her hands.
“Woah, Mom,” Iz says, giggling.
“What? You know you’ve thought about it, too.”
Iz leans down. “We’ve already picked out your house in the neighborhood.”
Nervous laughter bubbles over, a release of pent-up stress. Seeing Trish, the sheer panic I endured trying to get everything right tonight, keeping a secret from Zaiah—everything—it all washes away in a circus of laughter with Zaiah’s family.
I grin, and we all move into a big hug. Mostly, it’s a James family hug where I’m squished in the middle, but I’ll take it.