Now, it’s Friday and Drew and Brayden are leaving for an away game, so I could probably get away with leaving my apartment, but there’s still Ashton. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since I caught him and Brayden lip-locked, and I don’t think I’m ready yet. I haven’t even turned my phone on. It’s been quiet and peaceful… and lonely.
The knock sounds again, and my heart picks up speed at the thought of Ashton being on the other side of my door. I bring my eye to the peephole, mentally preparing myself for seeing the man who’s stolen my heart and shattered it, but instead, I see Drew.
“Hey,” I say, opening the door so he can come in. “I thought you had a game.”
“We do.” He closes the door behind him. “But when I stopped by before, I noticed you didn’t have any food in your fridge.” He raises his arms, holding a coffee in one hand and a bag in the other.
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the items from him and setting them on the counter. “But you don’t have to take care of me.”
“I know, but I’m worried about you. You’ve been holed up in this apartment all week, and you haven’t eaten anything…”
“I’m fine,” I snap. “Anyway, what about you? Yeah, you’ve gone out, but have you talked to Brayden or Ashton?”
His look of guilt tells me my answer: he hasn’t.
“I’m planning to. I just need some time.”
“And so do I.”
He nods. “Okay, I have to head out. The bus is leaving soon, but if you need anything—”
“I have your number. Now go.” I playfully push his shoulders. “Focus on the game and don’t worry about me.”
I pull the door open and Drew and I come face to face with Sasha. “There you are,” she says, raking her eyes down the length of my body. “Where the heck have you been?” Her nose bunches up in disgust. “And why do you look like… that?”
Then, as if just realizing there’s someone else here, her eyes land on Drew. “Who are you?” Her brows furrow in thought.
“I’m just leaving,” Drew says stiffly. I’m confused by his abrupt answer, until I remember… He’s the coach, and I’m a student. And…
“Are you the guy from the club?” Sasha asks, quickly putting the pieces together.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I say to Drew, practically pushing him out the door, while pulling Sasha inside, so she can’t berate him with questions.
The second the door closes, she says, “You and the hockey coach?”
Shit, I was hoping she wouldn’t recognize him as anything other than the guy from the club. “Nothing happened between us,” I tell her point-blank. The last thing we need is for Sasha to start gossiping.
“Sure didn’t look that way on the dance floor…” She hits me with an accusatory stare.
“Sasha,” I groan. “Don’t make something out of nothing, please. He’s the coach and I’m a student and once we knew that, we both walked away.”
“So, then what’s he doing here?”
“He’s roommates with Ashton.” I don’t want to give her anything more, but if I want to get her off the Drew train, I’m going to have to distract her with something else. “Ashton and I kissed and then… he kissed someone else.” There, that ought to do it.
“What a slime ball. I’ve told you before he’s a bad egg.” She lifts her chin so her nose is pointed up, all too ready to step on her high horse. “Did you know he was caught with drugs on campus?”
“It was weed,” I say in his defense. “And it was planted.”
Sasha harrumphs. “He’s bad news. My mother says his father can’t control him. Plus…” She leans in, like we’re not alone, and she has a secret to tell me. “I heard he’s gay.”
“Nooooo.” I mock gasp, mentally rolling my eyes. Everyone knows Ashton is gay. He’s never made it out to be a secret. And only your dumb ass would think he would suddenly switch teams for you…
“Yep.” She pops the P. “Looks like you dodged a bullet with that one.” My chest constricts. It feels more like I was hit by said bullet, right in the center of my heart.
“We’re going out tonight,” she transitions. “It looks like you can use some fresh air. Take a shower, get dressed…” Her eyes land on my hair, and her face contorts into a pained expression, like it’s personally offending her. “And please, do something with your hair.” She saunters over to the door. “I’ll text you the name of the lounge and the address. We’re meeting there at nine o’clock.” And then she disappears out the door.
For the next couple hours, while I watch reruns of crappy television that I’m not even paying attention to, I consider whether I should go out tonight. Sasha’s annoying, but she’s right, I need some fresh air. I haven’t left this apartment in days. Ashton, Drew, and Brayden are all continuing with their lives while I’m here, wallowing alone. It wouldn’t hurt to take a shower, get dressed, and get drunk. If nothing else, maybe it will help me forget. Because clearly sitting in this apartment, crying and sulking, isn’t working.
After I’m showered and dressed in a sexy little black number—I might not have my shit together, but at least I can look like I do—I turn my phone on so I can call for an Uber. The second my phone lights up, it’s overcome with texts and missed alerts. I spot Ashton’s and Brayden’s names but quickly swipe them away. Not going there… I pull my Uber app up and request a car, and then, after putting my phone on silent, I shove it into the front of my dress.
As I step out of my apartment and walk past Ashton’s, I slow down slightly, hoping maybe, like he always does, he’ll hear me and come out. But he doesn’t.
Fifteen minutes later, I arrive downtown at an upscale lounge called The Brasserie, one I’ve always thought was too uppity for me to ever step inside. There’s a line of people waiting to get inside, and since we’re experiencing a rare early winter, it’s chilly outside. I consider just telling the driver to take me back home, since I didn’t bring a jacket, and I’m not in the mood for freezing to death, but I don’t want to waste actually showering and getting dressed.
After thanking the driver, I pull my phone out and shoot a text to Sasha, who immediately replies that my name is at the door. Thank God!
Once I’m in, I make a beeline straight for the bar.
“What can I get you?” the good-looking bartender asks, blatantly checking me out.
“Umm… A martini, please. Any flavor is fine.” I should probably find Sasha and her posse, but I’m not in the mood yet. I’ll need a little bit of alcohol in my system to deal with her tonight.
The bartender nods and goes about making my drink. While I’m waiting, my phone vibrates against my breast. It’s probably Sasha… I pull it out to let her know I’m grabbing a drink and I’ll find her soon, but when I swipe up to check the message, I freeze. It’s not Sasha… It’s Ashton. And before I can demand my brain to abort, I’m reading his text.