Page 12 of Rival Season
I snort a laugh and put my phone down, turning my attention back to the table.
Ally’s sipping on her soda and snuggling into Noah’s chest, and he’s looking down at her with love hearts flashing in his eyes. Meanwhile, Fisher is making very different eyes at a cute girl sitting at the bar, who’s swaying from side to side on her barstool and giggling as she whispers something into her friend’s ear.
“Is it over already?” I ask. My question answers itself when I look around to see staff collecting answer boards.
“Nice of you to rejoin us.” Noah smirks. “Who were you texting? Got a hot date later?”
I shake my head. “Nah, it was just my sister.”
“Okay, good.” Fisher’s eyes leave the hottie on the barstool for a split second to glance towards me. “Because those two girls over there look like they’d like some company right about now.”
“What girls?” Noah asks blankly, and I can’t help but laugh.
From any other dude, I wouldn’t buy that shit, but Noah is legit so hopelessly in love with Ally, you could put him in a room with a hundred bikini-clad Victoria’s Secret models and he wouldn't even notice. They’re sweet together, like toothache-level sweet. It makes me feel a little strange sometimes. Not in a bad way—they’re both awesome, and I couldn’t be happier for them. It’s more like seeing what they have together emphasizes what I lack in my life. They have something special, somethingmore.The kind of love I’ll probably never find, or even dare try to.
“Over there, dumbass.” Fisher nods towards the bar.
Noah doesn’t even bother to look in their direction, but Ally does. She smiles. “Oh, I love the brunette girl’s dress. If you go over there, can you ask her where she got it?”
“No,” I tell her at the same time that Fisher says, “Sure.”
He gives me the side eye. “No to going over there, or no to asking her where she got her dress?”
I pour myself another beer. “Both.”
“Why the hell not?” Fisher looks at me like I suddenly sprouted an extra head.
“I’m not in the mood,” I say with a shrug. “My ribs still hurt from our last game, and I kinda just wanna go home and sit in the hot tub after this.”
It’s not a lie—my whole side is still bruised black and blue from that nasty hit I took from that douchecanoe Chad-dick Weatherby the other night. I’ve had to take ibuprofen and ice the swelling multiple times.
“You’re no fun,” Fisher complains.
“You’re lucky you didn’t fracture something,” Noah says with a scowl. “That was one of the dirtiest hits I’ve ever seen.”
“Nothing new from that jerk.” I wave my hand dismissively. “And if the crutches he was hobbling around on after the game are anything to go by, karma bit him in the ass for it already.”
The memory of Chadwick wobbling on crutches makes me smile…although that smile quickly fades when I rememberwhyI saw him using them.
Poor Hazel.
I’d never seen her look vulnerable before. I’m used to pissy, prissy Hazel. Hazel who bangs on my door or stops me in the hallway to tell me she’s bothered and she thinks I’m a jerk. Totally unafraid to speak her mind.
The version of Hazel on the street that night was new to me, and I didn’t like it. Although, the memory of her wearing pouffy granny nightwear has my lips twitching. The nightgownshouldhave been hilarious, but nothing about her defeated expression and pale face was funny. Instead, her red-rimmed green eyes tugged at something inside my chest.
And when I overheard what Chadwick was saying to her, rage coursed through my veins.
Because it sounded like they were serious, and she evenlovedhim, but ended the relationship because she’d found outhe cheated. And Chadwick had the audacity to tell her it only happened once and wasn’t a big deal, but he bragged to me during the game that he had a whole roster of women on the go. Ugh.
I still can’t believe that his serious girlfriend wasHazel.And even though she’s been a pain in my ass, my first thought wasOh hell, no. Not on my watch.I couldn’t stand there and let him gaslight her like that. I know how it feels to be cheated on, and as mad as she seemed with me afterward for interfering, I’d do it again.
My only regret is not hitting Chadwick harder during the game. Because how dare that asshole talk to her—oranywoman—like that.
“I wonder if Chad-dick will be out for the Fire Cats’ next game,” Fisher muses.
“For whoever they’re playing’s sake, I sure hope so,” I say darkly. “Guy’s a walking liability.”
The guys start talking about our next game, but my mind is still firmly on Hazel. I haven’t seen her since that night, and I hope she’s realized she’s better off without him. I would go knock on her door to check she’s okay, but I’m sure she’d just slam it in my face. I wonder if she wears granny nightgowns every night…would she answer her door with another frilly floor-length number and rollers in her hair?
