“I’m sure you say that to all the girls he dates,” I tease. Part of me hopes it isn’t true, though.
“He doesn’t really date,” Beck says casually. “He’s only had one girlfriend in the time I’ve known him, and that was over last year.” I knew it. My Instagram stalking had paid off.
I let his words sink in.
“For what it’s worth…” he says, standing up. Parents and skaters are starting to trickle into the rink. “This is real for him.” Leaving me to let those words sink in, he turns and starts corralling kids onto the ice, introducing himself. I like Beck. He’s a good one too, I think.
Rhodes has good people.
“Okay, everyone,” I say, gliding toward them on my blades. “Let’s get started.”
* * * *
I’m pulling my skates off in the locker room when I hear him behind me.
“You really know how to pick ’em, M.”
My gaze snaps to the side.Aaron.
“What could you possibly want?” I grit out. Did nobody on the Nationals team have anything better to do than bother me?
Every time I see them, they’re slinking around the rink, whispering, staring. It’s getting under my skin. I get that it’s going to be hard to start over in the same place my accident happened, but it’s even harder when everyone refuses to just let me exist without it being a spectacle.
Aaron leans casually against the boards, smug as ever. “Just heard about your little hockey boyfriend and the gambling scandal. That’s tough.”
The smirk on his face tells me he’s anything but sorry about it, and I have the urge to smack it right off his stupid mouth. How I ever considered him my closest friend is beyond me now. How did I miss how condescending he is?
I fold my arms across my chest. “Well, not that you care, but it isn’t true.”
Aaron lets out a low, knowing chuckle. “You’ve never been naïve before. Don’t start now. There’s a reason none of us fucked with hockey players.”
I roll my eyes. “Aaron, I’m sorry, but seriously—shut up. You don’t know anything about it, and you’re just trying to start shit.” I turn back around to the locker to gather my belongings, my attempt at a dismissal.
“Just extending an olive branch,” he says, holding up his hands like he’s the pictureof innocence. “You’ve moved on from your…edgyphase. You’re getting back to your old self.”
I bark out a laugh. “Okay, right. And you’re justitchingto be my friend again?”
He shrugs, still too nonchalant. I bristle. I don’t know what his angle is yet, but it’s notthis.It’s notfriendship.
I narrow my eyes. “You have Natalie. You skated for the Olympic team. I didn’t. I will likely never skate at that level again. So what do youwant?”
His expression doesn’t falter, but there’s something calculating in his gaze.
He shrugs, playing it off like it’s casual, but I see the gears turning in his head. “We both know what happens when you hitch your future to someone whose reputation is circling the drain. Sometimes you’ve gotta know when to jump ship, consider it a fun time had, and move on.”
My jaw tightens. “And you’d know all about that, would you? Was I just afun time had, Aaron?”
“All I’m saying is that I know exactly what happens when someone goes down,” he says smoothly. “And what it’s like to be standing next to them when they do. And you have time now to get out before you add more bad press to your name.”
I blink at him, my stomach twisting. “You know you’re talking about me, right? Just, like, to my face?”
Aaron exhales, shaking his head like he’s beingso patientwith me. “I did what anyone else would have done, and what you would have done, too. Get off your high horse, Monroe. And I’m not here to piss you off—”
My face must betray my feelings, because he holds up a hand to stop me from talking before I start.
“I’m here to give you anopportunity.”
I don’t say anything, just arch a brow, waiting for whatever bomb he is about to drop on me.