Jaxon never showed up. Not that I’m surprised. He’s been pretty distant wherever Alex is involved.
“What do you mean?” Alex takes his last bite of lasagna.
“You went to the hockey banquet with Brinley,” I continue. “I’m just wondering how she convinced you to go.”
“Oh, she didn’t,” he replies. “I offered.”
Declan, Fletcher, Jeremy, and I pause to look at each other. She must not have told him about how fucking horrible those banquets are. I’d ditch every year if I didn’t have the guys to hang out with.
“Did my sister tell you how fucking boring those things are?” Declan laughs. “I mean, you figured it out pretty quickly, but did she tellyou—”
“No, that’s actually why I told her I’d go. We were hanging out after class, and she told me about the banquet. She said it was her least favorite part of being in a sorority because it was just a three-hour event where her sorority sisters ogle at her brother.”
“Ogle at her brother?” I howl.
“And the other players,” he adds. “But she knows you all so well, so it’s weird.”
“So, you offered to go with her, so it didn’t suck?” Fletcher asks.
“Yeah. And it wasn’t that bad. Gave Brinley time to teach me more about hockey,” Alex replies. “I might even go to one of your games someday.”
“You know, Alex,” I begin, “you seem like a cool dude.”
“Thanks,” he hesitates. “Is there a but to that statement or—”
“Nope.” I point at him. “You’re welcome over here any time. Actually, now’s probably the perfect time to teach youNHL 17.”
“NHL 17?” he questions. “You guys play a virtual hockey game… when you can play an actual hockey game.”
“Well, we’d offer to teach you how to play an actual hockey game,” Jeremy says, “but this will probably be a little easier.”
“You’ll be beating Zeke in no time,” Ember interrupts. “He sucks.”
“Do you guys all just get a kick out of picking on me?”
“Yes, we do, actually.” Tate grins.
“It’s one of my favorite pastime activities,” Fletcher adds.
“What do you say, Alex? You down for some virtual hockey?”
“Um—” Alex’s eyes wander from me to Brinley to the guys at the table. “Sure?”
I smile. “Right answer.
thirty
Avalon
Do you think we have a problem?” I wonder. My legs are draped over Zeke’s, and he’s rubbing mindless circles on my legs.
We’ve been sitting on the couch like this for at least six hours just watchingBones. It’s become a part of our rotation whenever he comes over: Sex, eat, a few episodes ofBones, repeat.
“Why?” He glances at me. “Because of this show?”
“We’ve watched two and a half seasons in less than three weeks,” I play the next episode. “Some might say that’s a problem.”
“Who cares what anyone else says?” he continues. “Plus, in a couple days, I’m on the road, and we won’t be able to watchBonesuntil the new year.”