The buzzer saves me from saying something I’ll regret, signaling the end of the second period. St. Michael's is up 4 - 1against Rome U, and the crowd erupts into cheers as the players skate off the ice.
“I'm going to grab some drinks,” Honey says, already standing. “You guys want anything?”
“I’ll come with—” Jenni starts before I can offer myself and tell Honey everything.
“No need,” Honey cuts in with a smile so bright it borders on passive-aggressive. “You stay with Zach.”
“Okay,” Jenni replies, chipper and full of fake enthusiasm.
Just like that, my girlfriend is bounding up the steps, and I’m watching her ass because it’s the only good thing about this night.
Leaving me alone.
With her.
She’s done this on purpose. Shewantsme to be stuck with Jenni. This is her way of forcing unwanted bonding time with her apparent new bestie.
The crowd thins around us as people head out of the rink for the break. The sudden space and quietness make the tension between us more palpable.
“So,” Jenni says, turning in her seat to face me directly. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”
I raise an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my skepticism. “That's one way to put it.”
She sighs, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Look, I know you don't like me. You made that pretty clear at Hail Mary's.”
“I don't know you well enough to like or dislike you,” I counter. “I just don't trust you.”
To my surprise, she laughs—a genuine sound that momentarily throws me off guard. “Fair enough. I did come on a little strong when we first met.”
“A little?” I scoff, shaking my head. “You showed up at my house uninvited, tried to give me your number, and then pulled the ‘who, me?’act at Hail Mary’s like we hadn’t already met.”
She has the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “I panicked, okay? When I realized you were Honey's boyfriend, I didn't want to make things awkward.” She pauses, her blue eyes searching mine. “I really do care about Honey. She's been a good friend to me.”
Something in her tone doesn't fel right. It's too polished, too rehearsed.
“If you care about her, then why are you still hitting on me?” I ask bluntly.
“Hitting on you?” She looks genuinely surprised or at least does a good job faking it. “I'm not—”
“The touches, the whispers, leaning into me every chance you get.” I keep my voice low and controlled. “I'm not an idiot, Jenni.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then shifts back in her seat, creating distance between us. “You're reading too much into things. I'm just a hugger.”
“Right.”
“It's true,” she insists. “Ask Honey. I'm the same way with her, with Chris, with everyone.”
I don’t respond, because it’s bullshit, and we both know it. But I don’t have the energy to unpack her performance—not when Honey could come back any second.
“Look,” I say, dragging a hand down my face. “Whatever your game is, drop it. For Honey’s sake.”
Something flickers in her eyes—frustration, maybe, or anger but it's gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“There's no game, Zach,” she says softly. Then, after a pause: “But I get it. She’s special. I’d be protective too.”
“So,” Jenni says, turning in her seat to face me directly. “I wanted to ask you something.”
I raise an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my skepticism. “What?”