Luckily, our lower bodies aren’t touching, so I’m spared the agony of feeling her rubbing up against me. The experience would be too confusing for my dick.

  Except great. Now she’s rubbing up against me.

  Cue: dick confusion.

  I try to ease my hips away from her sexy body, but that earns me a huff of exasperation. “You have to actually dance back, Hunter. You can’t just stand there.”

  “I’m dancing back,” I protest.

  “Your body is two feet away! Where did you learn to dance? Puritan camp? Why did you even bother cutting in?”

  I shrug.

  Demi thinks it over for a second. Then she releases a triumphant laugh. “Oh my God, you were jealous! You didn’t like seeing me dancing with Dean!”

  Another shrug.

  “Ha!” She’s so much shorter than me that she has to tug my head down to bring her lips to my ear. “Admit it,” she whispers.

  My lips travel toward her ear. “Fine,” I whisper back, and I’m gratified to feel a shiver run down her body. “Maybe a little jealous. But it wasn’t real jealousy.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It was body jealousy.”

  “That’s not a real thing.”

  “Yes it is. Bodies get jealous when they see other bodies close together.”

  “Right. Keep telling yourself that.”

  I kind of need to, to preserve my own sanity. I can’t let myself develop feelings for Demi. I mean, obviously, I like her. She’s amazing and we have fun together. As friends.

  I don’t want our friendship to be ruined.

  But Demi seems hell-bent on setting it on fire.

  “I have a secret,” she teases, gesturing for me to lower my head again.

  “Yeah?” My voice comes out stupidly husky.

  Her breath tickles my earlobe. “I’m about to do something you’re not going to like.”

  Like a fool I ask, “What’s that?”

  And rather than answer, Demi angles her head and slants her mouth over mine.

  The kiss is as delicious as the last time. She tastes like tequila and a hint of cherry, probably from the red candy she had in her mouth at the game. Her tongue had kept poking it into her cheek, making it look like she had a creature moving around in there.

  I laugh at the memory.

  She pulls back breathlessly. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinking about your candy obsession and…forget it.” I just kiss her again, and her tongue eagerly slides into my mouth.

  Just feeling it touch the tip of mine unleashes a greedy, caveman side I never knew I possessed. I shove my hand in her hair and drive the kiss deeper. She gasps against my lips. I’m fully aware we’re in the middle of the dance floor sucking on each other’s tongues. I hear music. I register people around us. I don’t know if they’re dancing or staring at us. I don’t care. All I care about is kissing her. And touching her.

  I slide a hand down her slender back and cup one firm ass cheek. Ah Christ, I want to rip off those leggings. I want to smack her perfect ass. I want to slip a finger inside her and find out how wet she is for me.

  Demi breaks the kiss again. “Let’s get out of here,” she pleads.

  The sheer desire swimming in her eyes brings me back to my senses. “No,” I croak, abruptly leading her away from the dance floor.

  “Why not?” is her frustrated response.

  “Because I don’t want to complicate our friendship.”

  “We’ve been making out for the past five minutes, Hunter! It’s already been complicated!”

  “No, it hasn’t. That was…just kissing.” The best kissing ever. My body is still throbbing from it.

  Accusation sharpens her face. “I feel like you’re purposely trying to be difficult.”

  “I’m not,” I say unhappily. “Look, I made this decision before I even met you. And I want to stick by it. I want to prove to myself that I can actually stick to a goal I’ve set and not let sex blow up my whole life again.”

  “That won’t happen,” she insists. “The team is doing great. You’re winning all your games.”

  “Yeah, because my head is clear. And now it’s about more than celibacy. I like you. This friendship is everything to me and we both know damn well that sex would screw it up. So I’m sorry, okay? I’m not giving in to temptation again.” I shake my head in defeat. “I can’t.”

  Unhappiness flickers in her eyes for a moment. Then it transforms into a glimmer of determination. “Fine. I won’t hit on you anymore. But only if you make me a promise.”

  “Demi—”

  “After the season ends—” She slants her head, defiant. “I get to be the one you cross the finish line with, friendship be damned.”

  25

  Demi

  A few days before the break starts, I manage to squeeze in a coffee date with TJ, who meets me at the Theta house. It’s chilly outside, but we both agree a winter walk through campus would be lovely, so we set off in the direction of the Coffee Hut.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  TJ’s wounded tone has me glancing over in surprise. “Of course not. I’ve just been crazy-busy. I’m working on the case study, cramming for finals, planning the sorority’s holiday party with Josie, organizing a Secret Santa for everyone in my Biology tutorial. Life is nuts right now.”

  “No, I know. I just miss you.”

  “Aw, I miss you too.” I link my arm through his.

  “Are you around tonight?” he asks. “There’s this skating thing at the rink in Hastings.”

  “What skating thing?”

  “It’s, like, a winter fair? It’s the first year the town is holding it. I thought it would be cool to go. Drink some hot cocoa, skate for a bit, get our picture taken with Santa.”

  “That sounds fun. I love fairs. Oh—but I have Hunter’s game tonight.”

  “Hunter’s game?”

  I nod. “Briar’s playing against…you know what, I didn’t even ask who they’re playing. But it’s a home game, and I promised him I’d go. It’ll probably end around nine-thirty, ten? How long is the fair open until?”

  He opens a browser on his iPhone, and I notice the Town of Hastings webpage is already loaded up. “It says here it goes till midnight.”

  I brighten. “Okay, that works, then. I should be done by ten-ish, and that’ll give us a couple hours at the fair. Sound like a plan?”

  “Sounds great.” He smiles, a rare sight to behold.

  I can’t deny that TJ isn’t the easiest person to get to know. He keeps his emotions locked up tight, but once he warms up to people, he’s actually super sweet. He can be moody at times, which is probably why I can’t spend long chunks of time with him. That doesn’t mean I don’t like him, though. I also can’t spend an inordinate amount of time with Pax, whose melodramatic nature eventually drains my patience.

  TJ and I navigate the winding path, snow crunching beneath our feet. The ground is icy, and he tightens his hold on my arm as we encounter a particularly precarious section of the path.

  “They need to salt this,” he gripes.

  “Right? I nearly face-planted just now.”

  We’re about fifty yards from the Coffee Hut when TJ brings up the subject of Hunter. “You two hang out a lot,” he remarks.

  I can’t decipher his tone. I feel like it might contain a hint of disapproval, but I’m not certain. TJ can be so hard to read sometimes. “Well, yeah. We’re friends.”

  Friends who kiss.

  I keep that tidbit to myself. Hell, I don’t know why I’m even still thinking about it. I kissed the guy twice and would happily kiss him a hundred more times. But Hunter rejected me twice and doesn’t want a single kiss more.

  Ugh, and he wouldn’t even promise that we could resume the kissing when the hockey season ends. He just reiterated that our friendship is too important, and we proceeded to spend the rest of the night hanging out with Dean and his other friends, pretending we hadn’t just sucked each other’s faces off.

  It’s so vexing. Frustrating. I don’t believe it’s an ego problem on my end, because I’m confident I wouldn’t have much trouble finding someone to have sex with me. Half the men on Tinder would offer themselves up.

  But I don’t want those men.

  I want Hunter Davenport.

  I haven’t allowed myself to delve too deeply about precisely what I want from him. To keep kissing him, for sure. And sex, absolutely. The mere thought of our naked bodies tangled together gets me hot.

  I’m not looking beyond that. But I do think he’s wrong—I think we could be friends with benefits without it complicating anything.

  Couldn’t we?

  “I just think it’s weird,” TJ says, jolting me from my troubled thoughts.

  “Why is it weird?”

  “I dunno. He’s such a fuckboy.”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes really. I told you about catching him in the library last year, remember? Any guy who fucks chicks in public is slimy.”

  “One, that’s not at all an accurate barometer of slime—lots of very respectable people possess exhibitionist tendencies. Weren’t you paying attention to Andrews’ lecture about sexual compulsions? And two, that happened last year. Hunter’s different now. He’s not even dating at the moment.”

  “Yeah, probably because of the herpes.”

  I give TJ a sharp look. “That’s a rude thing to say.”

  He shrugs. “The truth isn’t always pretty.”

  Now I roll my eyes. “What truth? You’re saying Hunter Davenport has herpes?”

  “I think that’s what it was? I don’t remember exactly, but I’m friends with this chick in my dorm and she said Davenport gave her an STI this past spring. She used the word outbreak, so I just assumed herpes—but do the other ones give you outbreaks? What do chlamydia and gonorrhea do?”

  “I don’t know.” I frown. “Are you being serious right now?”

  “Honest to God.”

  My stomach does a queasy little flip. TJ is a decent guy, and he doesn’t typically spread rumors, so I’m predisposed to believe he did hear something. But there’s no way it’s true. Hunter doesn’t have a sexually transmitted disease.

  Well, I mean…he could.

  Something else suddenly occurs to me. Is that why he’s not sexually active? Because he’s embarrassed about having something and passing it to someone else?

  It’s possible, I guess. Either way, I’m uncomfortable discussing Hunter’s private business with TJ, who clearly doesn’t like him.

  “Whatever. This is not a conversation we should be having,” TJ says before I can. “It’s really none of our business.”

  “You’re right,” I agree.

  “I shouldn’t have even said anything. But I wanted you to be aware, just in case. Since you’re spending so much time with him.”

  Later that night, I drag Pippa to the hockey game with me and Brenna. Mostly because I’m worried Brenna will be so absorbed in the game that I won’t have anybody to talk to. Like me, Pippa isn’t a hockey fan. Neither of us could properly explain what’s currently happening on the ice. I just see big hulking boys skating very fast and wielding sticks.

  Hunter told me his jersey number is 12, so I attempt to track those two digits with my gaze. I think he’s doing well? Then again, he hasn’t scored any goals, so maybe he’s doing poorly?

  I truly don’t know how to measure hockey success. Nico played basketball in high school and used to score a ton of points in every game. But when I ask Brenna why nobody is scoring, she explains that hockey isn’t as point-laden as basketball. Apparently some games might end with only one goal between both teams. Or even a tie of zero.

  Speaking of Nico, Pippa asks about him during the first intermission. “Did you ever hear from Nico after he attacked Hockey Boy?”

  “Nope.”

  “Has he tried to contact you?” Brenna asks curiously.

  “No idea. I told you, I blocked him on everything, even email. I’m sure he’s figured that out by now.”

  “Oh he has,” Pippa confirms.

  I look over sharply. “You’ve spoken to him?”

  “Me, personally? No. But Darius is speaking to him again.”

  That brings a frown to my lips. I was texting with D the other day, and he didn’t once mention he’s back in contact with my ex.

  “Darius said Nico is losing his shit. The guys had to forcibly stop him several times from showing up at your house. D told him it was asking for trouble.”

  I make a mental note to call Darius later for more details.

  “But yeah, he’s definitely not over you, or handling this breakup well.” Pippa gazes at the ice, where the Zamboni is shuffling along to smooth out the shiny surface. Then she switches gears from my cheating ex to the friend he cheated with. “Corinne says you two are texting again.”

  I nod. “She sent me a funny meme the other day and we had a short convo.”

  “For what it’s worth, she still feels terrible about everything.”

  “She should,” I mutter, but my anger toward our friend isn’t as powerful as it used to be. Even my anger at Nico has dimmed.

  “I really hope you two can be friends again one day, so we can hang out the way we used to. Maybe over the holiday break the three of us could have a girls’ night?”

  A sigh flutters out. “I mean, we could try.”

  “Hold up—you’re texting and making hangout plans with the chick who slept with your boyfriend?” Brenna demands. Her mouth is wide with disbelief, drawing attention to her trademark red lips. It’s the only splash of color amidst her black turtleneck, leggings and leather boots.

  Pippa shakes her head wryly. “Seriously, Demi, you’re so fucking forgiving and understanding it makes me want to punch you.”

  “Really? Those two wonderful qualities of mine make you want to punch me? Also! You literally just suggested we do a girls’ night. You’re encouraging me to be friends with Corinne again.”

  “Yeah, but by agreeing to it you’re setting a bad example for the rest of us. You know, the grudge holders.”

  Brenna grins. “I hold a mean grudge, I’ll tell you that.”

  I roll my eyes at both of them. “I want to be a psychologist. That means I ought to practice what I preach, right?”

  The second period gets underway when the referee skates up to the faceoff and drops the puck.

  “How does he not get hurt?” Pippa demands.

  “Who, the ref?” Brenna asks.

  “Yes! Look at that little guy! He’s way too close to the action. One of those huge monsters could smash into him at any second and break every bone in his body.”

  “I know it looks dangerous, but the refs know how to stay out of the way,” Brenna assures her.

  A cheer rocks the arena and I squint hard, trying to understand what I’m seeing. #12 is flying past the blue line at the center of the rink. “Oooh, that’s Hunter! And he’s all alone.”

  Brenna supplies the hockey lingo. “He’s on a breakaway.”

  Oh gosh, he’s tearing toward the opposing net, his stick snapping up in preparation for his shot. As my heart lodges in my throat, I find myself shooting to my feet.

  “Holy shit, you’re into hockey!” Pippa accuses, staring up at me in shock.

  “Into it? No. But did you see that shot?” Hunter missed, but it was still ridiculously thrilling to watch.

  Pippa narrows her eyes. “Ohhhhh,” she finally says. “I get what’s happening. You’re not into hockey. You’re into the hockey player.”

  “No,” I lie. Then I groan. “Well, maybe a little.”

  Brenna lets out a hoot. “That means a lot. Have you found the key to his chastity belt yet?”

  A laugh pops out of my mouth. “No, sadly. It’s still locked up tight.” I hesitate for a beat. I haven’t told anybody about kissing Hunter, but I suspect that’s about to change. I need advice, and there’s no better time like the present.

  So while Brenna and Pippa sit there grinning at me, I confess to the two kisses, which I think of as Bathroom Kiss and Salsa Kiss. “Salsa Kiss involved a butt squeeze,” I confess. “But then he stopped it from going any further. I think I might need to accept he’s not interested.”

  “Bullshit,” Brenna says.

  Pippa nods in agreement. “If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t keep kissing you back.”

  “And then stopping it,” I reiterate. “He’s dead set on trying to be a good team leader and make hockey his priority.”

  “Sleeping with you isn’t going to destroy the team.” Brenna rolls her eyes. “That’s just nonsense.”

  “Maybe, but I can’t force someone to sleep with me. There’s this thing called consent?”

  “Nobody’s telling you to force him,” Pippa says. “But it couldn’t hurt to give him a nudge?”

  “I’ve done more than nudge. I kissed him twice. He shut me down twice. And after Salsa Kiss, I told him I wouldn’t hit on him again until he’s done with the season.”

  “Then don’t hit on him.” An evil glint lights Brenna’s eyes. “You need to change your tactics here, babe. Stop going after him. Make him come to you.”

  “How?”

  “Make him jealous. Flirt with one of his buddies.”

  “Oooh, Operation Jealousy!” Pippa chimes in. “That’s totally what you need to do.”

  Make him jealous… I guess I already did that, the night I danced with Dean. And it worked, I realize. I wasn’t openly flirting, but the mere act of dancing with another man triggered Hunter’s possessive instincts.

  “Isn’t there always a party after these games?” Pippa asks. “You should do it tonight.”

  “I can’t. I have plans with TJ. Oh shit, that reminds me! I need to text him my ETA. When is the game over?” I ask Brenna. I’m worried I’ll end up being late, because even though we got here at seven-thirty, they didn’t drop the puck until past eight. There was a lot of preamble first, including a ceremony honoring a middle-aged alumnus who supposedly set a bunch of records back in the day.