Chapter 26
I stare at the picture of Zach on my phone. Just one tap of the little green button and I know he’d answer. He told me he was busy tonight with back-to-back meetings, but I know if I tried, he’d answer the phone and pretend to be happy to hear from me.
Don’t do it.
I force myself to put the phone down, and try to work through some of the documents my father sent home with me. I will not become that girlfriend. The clingy one who needs constant attention and shows up drunk and sobbing at her boyfriend’s door because she can’t handle a bad day.
Placing the papers in front of me, I read the first paragraph.
Then again. Nope. It’s not going in. All I can think about is how badly I fucked everything up between me and Zach.
When he told me he was busy tonight, I could see it in his face.
He was holding back a wince, braced for a reaction. He’s worried I might break again.
And the worst part? He might be right.
Between the constant unknown texts, the glares of people around college and the office, I don’t feel like there’s anywhere I can land. Even Zach’s house doesn’t feel as safe as it once did. I just know he’s waiting for the next explosion, and I hate that’s what I’ve become.
He showed me his plan to get a honeycomb tattoo and all I could think was “Don’t do it.” I don’t deserve to be permanently inked onto his skin like that. I’m a useless waste of space that’s only going to bring him down with me.
I bite my bottom lip, holding back my tears.
When did I become someone who needs constant reassurance and can’t handle her own life without falling to pieces?
I guess it all started in high school, and I’ve been spiraling in slow motion ever since.
Shaking my head, I force my gaze down to the papers. I don’t have time to think about how broken I’ve become. I need to focus on this.
Another paragraph barely read.
She’s just a consolation prize. Isn’t she embarrassed?
As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. Jonathan Nicks’ comments seep through every time I try to read these stupid papers.
I wipe a tear from the paper as I try to read the next sentence, but it’s not working.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
When my phone goes off next to me, I quickly check it, thankful for the reprieve from my thoughts.
Chris: Movie night at the hockey house tonight. You guys should come hang out with us. Nothing fancy, just pizza.
Chris: @Honey Zach’s more than welcome to come.
Chris: @Jenni You can bring that guy you were talking about this morning.
Chris. Yet another relationship I tried to sabotage over this last week.
Thankfully, he has a way of making things feel normal even when everything else inside me feels wrong.
After our conversation the other day, I was worried things would get awkward between us, but he’s still inviting me to the rink, attending our study sessions like nothing happened and isn’t treating me like I’m made of glass.
Unlike everyone else in my life right now.
I don’t know what Zach said to Olivia, but clearly it was enough to convince her to come out for the weekend to celebrate my birthday.
“Fuck it,” I whisper to myself, pushing back my desk chair so hard it scrapes against the hardwood floor.
I can’t remember the last time I just hung out with friends without over-thinking every single interaction. The hockey guys give no shits about football. They just see me as one of their friends, and that’s what I need.
I need this. I need to get out of this room, out of my own head, and to prove to myself that I don’t need Zach to function. Hell, Zach would want me to.
I text back quickly:
Honey: Zach’s busy tonight, but I’m game. What time?
Chris: Seven-ish? Fair warning: Chase will try to monopolize the remote, but he’s easily distracted by popcorn.
Honey: I’ll make sure to get some on the way. What’s his favorite flavor?
Chris: Dill pickle… I know. Don’t judge me for my brother’s taste buds.
Honey: I would never. I’ll get some other flavors too.
Jenni: Would’ve loved to come but I’ve got a date with said guy.
Honey: Date? How come this is the first time I’m hearing about it?
Jenni: typing…
While I wait for Jenni’s answer, I grab one of Zach’s South Point Prep sweatshirts and put it on.
Jenni: It’s a recent thing. Things have been developing between us, and I’m happy he finally decided to ask me out.
Honey: Good luck! Can’t wait to hear all about it.
Jenni: Oh, you’ll get every detail. I promise.
Chris: Good luck, Jen. See you soon, Honey!
It takes me about fifteen minutes to walk to the hockey house just at the end of campus, and when I knock, Chris is the one to answer.
“Hey, Honey,” he says with an easy smile. He’s in a pair of sweats and a worn hockey shirt as he moves back to make space for me. “You made it.”
“You sound surprised?” I step inside, surprised at how clean the guys manage to keep this place even though four hockey guys live here. Not as clean as Zach’s place, but there’s only one of him and he’s pretty obsessive about keeping things tidy anyway.
“The guys are in the kitchen,” Chris explains, leading me through the hallway. “They're arguing about movie choices, which means we'll probably end up watching whatever you pick anyway.”
“I can’t. I just can’t watch another superhero movie,” I hear a voice groan from the other room as I slip off my shoes by the door. “We watched three last week, and it made Jensen believe he might be able to make Vera come to life.”
There’s a pause, then another voice—way too cheerful.
“What do you mean? She’s alive and she’s playing with me every night.”
A beat of silence follows.
“Okay,” another voice says finally. “I’m choosing to pretend that meant hockey practice.”
“It did. Mostly.”
“Who’s Vera? Is she coming tonight?” I whisper to Chris before we head into the kitchen.
Chris gives me an amused smirk. “You might regret asking that.”
I wait.
“Vera is Jensen’s goalpost. He talks to her, he named her, and honestly? We think they’re in a very committed relationship.”
“O-okay.”
“Welcome to the hockey house.”
I follow Chris into the kitchen where I see Nick and Jensen near the fridge.
“Honey!” Chase announces, throwing his arm around my shoulders. “Perfect timing! Please convince these heathens that cinema should involve plot, not just car chases, fireballs, and people growling about vengeance.”
Nick turns to me and grins. “Don’t listen to him. I vote for explosions over emotions every time. Feelings don’t blow up helicopters.”
“I think a slapstick comedy would satisfy everyone’s requirements,” Jensen adds, giving me a wink.
“Hard pass on slapstick,” Chris pipes up. “The last thing Jensen needs is to think falling on his ass is a competitive sport.”
I laugh, surprised at how easy it is to be around them. There’s no judgment here, just fun.
“So what’s the verdict on the movie, then?” I ask as I pull out a couple of bags of popcorn.
“Dill pickle?” Chase says in awe as he looks between me and Chris.
“Yeah. Heard it was your favorite.”
“You’re a keeper,” Chase says, knocking his brother in the side as he gets a couple of bowls out of the cabinet. “Don’t fuck this up, Chris.”
“There’s nothing to fuck up,” Chris mutters while I stand there, moving from side-to-side, feeling a little awkward without Zach.
This is exactly why you need to be here.
“Since you’re our guest, we were thinking of letting you choose,” Chase says.
“Me? Am I the only guest tonight?”
“Yup,” Nick says with a smile. “Can’t have too many people infiltrating our hockey night. Be thankful, you only just made that list.” He winks and says something to Chris as he takes a now full bowl of popcorn and walks past.
“Well, I’m honored and now I’m feeling the pressure to pick something good.”
“You’ll be fine,” Chris says. “We’ll like whatever you pick. Just make sure it’s not something with subtitles—Jensen will probably start having a conversation with the screen.”
“I don’t have conversations with the screens,” Jensen protests. “I just… read the subtitles so you don’t have to. It’s very different.”
“So what you’re saying is, turning foreign films into one-man plays is totally normal?” Chase asks, pulling out the bag of popcorn and emptying it into a bowl.
“Totally normal,” Jensen repeats.
“How about we let Honey pick the movie before we spend the entire evening talking about it?” Chris leads me to the living room and gives me the prime spot in the middle of their couch. Then he hands me a remote.
“I’m trusting you to pick something good.”
“No pressure.” I accept the remote and scroll through the movie options, feeling the weight of their expectation.
“Um, how about this one?” I suggest, clicking on a thriller that looks interesting but not too intense.
“Perfect,” Nick says, plopping down on the other side of me. Soon, Jensen and Chase have joined us with pizza and the rest of the popcorn.
I’m just getting comfortable when my phone lights up, and I instantly smile when I see his name sprawled across it. Zach texted me tonight. Not the other way around.
Zach: Miss you. What are you up to?
Honey: I miss you, too. I’m watching a movie at the hockey house, but I wish I was with you.
Zach: Ditto.
Honey: Can I come to your house after? I know you’re busy tonight, but it’s closer than mine and I want to see you even if it’s just in bed.
Zach: It’s our house and yes, fucking please.
Honey: Can’t wait. Love you, Zach.
Zach: Love you too, Honeycomb.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, but hear another notification come through and check it again in case it’s him.
Unknown: Your golden boy’s game isn’t for another two days and you really think he’s spending the night talking to the boys? That’s cute.
Unknown: Check the location share, Honey. Or don’t—denial looks as good on you now as it did when you were in high school.
I read the message again, doing my best to swallow down any emotions begging to come out. I can’t do that. Not here. Not in front of a bunch of guys I barely know.
This isn’t the first time they’ve mentioned high school, and honestly, I’m starting to feel the same way I did before I found out Jamie was cheating on me.
For a split-second, my thumb hovers over the location-share app, but I stop myself.
This is nothing. Zach doesn’t lie to you. This is just another one of those anonymous assholes who seem to get off on making me question everything.
I shove the phone face-down on the couch cushion and focus on the TV. My hands won’t stop shaking. I curl them into fists until my nails bite my palms—anything to ground myself.
“You okay?” Chris asks quietly, leaning closer so the others can't hear. “You look tense.”
“Just tired,” I lie, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Long week.”
He studies my face for a moment, like he can see right through my bullshit, but he doesn't push. Instead, he reaches for the bowl of popcorn and offers it to me.
“Movie's getting good,” he says simply.
I nod, pretending that this is normal. That I'm just a regular college student having a regular movie night with regular friends. After all, this is what college is all about. I shouldn’t be worrying about some random person texting me constantly.
They don’t know me. They don’t know Zach and letting them get into my head is doing a disservice to my relationship.
So I put my phone in my pocket, sit back, and try my best to focus on the movie.