Page 49 of Rival Season
“Hey, girl. How’s it going?” I ask, too exhausted to care that I’m talking to a tarantula.
Her eight furry legs twitch as she moves to the side, still watching me.
A knock comes from my door, and I release a dry sob. “No,” I whine. “I don’t want to get up. You get the door, Fluffy.”
To my dismay, she doesn’t respond, and I ease my aching body off the couch with a groan, dragging my slippered feet across the floor to answer the door.
Penn stands there with one arm resting against the top of the door frame. His dark hair is damp like he just showered and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, a matching hoodie, and bright green Crocs.
The first thought that pops into my head ishow the hell does he look sexy wearing Crocs?
“Hey, Bubbles,” he says with his signature smirk.
“Penn, I didn’t expect you to come over tonight…”
“I brought treats.” He holds up a bag from a local Italian place that has incredible tiramisu and my heart melts a little—first the volunteering, and now my favorite dessert? I’m no expert, but so far it seems like having a fake boyfriend is a million times better than having a real one ever was. “Couldn’t leave tomorrow morning on the most commercialized romantic day of the year without at least bringing you dessert first.”
“Come in,” I say, since he’s the holder of sweets, then stomp back to the sofa and sink into the cushions. “Bring me a fork. First drawer on the right,” I order, trying to cover up how touched I am that he brought me my favorite dessert tonight knowing he’d be gone tomorrow on Valentine’s.
“So bossy,” he teases, striding into the kitchen for two forks before joining me on the couch. The cushion sinks with his weight, causing me to lean into him. He smells really nice, like amber and leather and warm skin. His body heat is like a heating pad on my sore muscles, so I don’t budge, instead I stay put with my side smashed against his. We’re friends now—he said so himself—and friends use each other as human heating pads all the time, right?
Penn pulls the tiramisu out of the bag and hands me a fork, holding the container up so I can scoop up a bite. The sweet treat melts against my tongue, and I hum in satisfaction.
He chuckles then shoves a bite into his mouth. “Mmm, thatisgood.” He’s smiling and chewing before his gaze lands on something to my side and he goes still, swallowing slowly as his eyes widen. “What the hell is that?”
I look over my shoulder and shrug. “That’s Fluffy.”
“Fluffy?” He squeaks out her name, his deep voice going up a whole octave. “Did you mean to saySatan?”
“Leave the poor girl alone. She can’t help being born a tarantula,” I defend her with a sigh. “The beauty standards in this country are ridiculous.”
“My only beauty standard is:notbeing a spider.” He wrinkles his nose, unable to look away from her, nor keep the disgust out of his voice as he asks, “Is she…yours?”
“No, I pet-sit as well as house-sit.”
“You think of that thing as a pet?”
I’m laughing now, about to tease him for being more of a wuss about the spider than I am, when my phone buzzes from where it rests on the arm of the sofa and I see it’s my mother calling again. This is the third time today.
“I better get that, sorry.”
Penn finally forces his gaze away from Fluffy. “No worries.”
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” I answer, holding the phone to my ear.
“What’s up?” Mom demands, she sounds mad. “Hazel, I’ve tried to stay out of your life while you pursue a career where you’ll makenomoney. But I can’t stand by while you break Chadwick’s heart.”
“Um, what?”
She sighs, sounding exasperated. “Your father and I were watching the news and were about to turn it off when the sports man came on, but then, to our horror…a video pops up of you debauching yourself with some…” She stutters like she’s thinking of the right word. “Some tattooed piece of garbage.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, realization hitting me that my parents saw the clip of Penn kissing me after the game. I never told them that Chadwick and I broke up—I kept putting off having that conversation because I didn’t want to deal with Mom’s hysterics.
“How could you betray your boyfriend like that, Haze?” Mom’s voice breaks like she’s choking back tears.
Opening my eyes, I shoot a sideways glance at Penn, who’s watching me curiously, his face carefully neutral. “Well, Mom, first of all…thatman’sname is Penn Matthews. He’s a professional hockey player. And I’m sorry I haven’t told you yet, but I broke up with Chadwick a few weeks ago when I found outhewas cheating onme.”
My mother gasps. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry to hear that.” She pauses for a moment. “Are you sure he cheated, though? That doesn’t sound like him.”
