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Why am I so hung up on the one girl at Brumehill College who isn’t into me?
The answer most people might offer is that I’m so not used to rejection that my ego can’t handle it. But that’s not the case at all. Despite what most people assume, my ego isn’t fragile.
If one girl doesn’t want me, it’s no skin off my back. There are hundreds, thousands even, of others swarming this campus willing and eager.
No, that’s not it.
There’s just something about her. Something I can’t put my finger on.
Sure, it’s easy to list things about her that are attractive.
She’s drop-dead gorgeous for one. Funny. Witty. A good and loyal friend to Summer. And a talented as hell actress.
But all those reasons aren’t why I can’t get her out of my mind. There’s just something … else about her. Something I can’t identify or name. Something that has her lodged so deeply in my head there’s no way I can shake her out.
Since I can’t name that something, the best I can do is feel it by being around her.
My gaze lingers on Olivia and Summer as I take another long sip of my drink.
She wears an oversized grey sweater, contrasting with the tight pair of blue jeans that hug her shapely legs. Her light chestnut hair is tied back in a ponytail, showing off the smooth, creamy skin of her delicate neck.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t do to grip the side of that neck, my fingers curling possessively around the back of it, my thumb brushing underneath her ear as I pull her towards me …
Suddenly, their conversation is abruptly interrupted when a burly, tattooed goalie appears and dips down to scoop Summer up in his arms.
That would be my grumpy teammate Hudson, who’s grown a hell of a lot less grumpy than he used to be since he fell for Summer, his bubbly violinist girlfriend.
Less grumpy, which isn’t to say not at all. He still wears a scowl half the time and has a penchant for communicating in monosyllabic grunts. But that’s just part of his charm.
It’s not a scowl that Hudson’s wearing right now, but rather a look of hunger. Giggles bubble from Summer as she calls something to Olivia while Hudson marches her to the stairs and no doubt up to his room.
Olivia blows Summer a kiss, shaking her head with a smile on her face as she watches her best friend and my teammate disappear upstairs.
Something tugs in my chest. I can’t deny that I feel a twinge of envy at what Hudson and Summer have.
I don’t dwell on it, though, because seeing Olivia standing alone hits me with a new feeling: the same sense of opportunity that rushes through me when I’m on the ice and see the perfect opening for a shot on goal.
I finish my drink with a big gulp and set the cup down on the counter before striding towards Olivia, puffed up with confidence I have no right to feel where she’s concerned—except for the fact that Tuck McCoy is always confident.
“Olivia,” I greet her with only her name, savoring the vibration of it on my lips.
She side-eyes me, not even granting me the courtesy of turning her body in my direction. “Oh, hi, Tuck. I was just wondering whether I was ready to go home, and you being right here suddenly makes that decision a lot easier.”
A smile curls on my lips as she brushes past me. “But don’t you want to hear my notes?”
She stops. Slowly turns towards me with a quirked eyebrow. “Notes?”
My smile curls higher. “About your latest performance. I have some … constructive criticisms.”
Her lips purse, defiance flashing in her eyes.
Olivia is a drama major, and one hell of an actress. Fact is, I couldn’t find fault with any of her performances even if I wanted to.
Especially not the one she gave at the play she starred in last week. I was on my feet clapping and whistling like the rest of the crowd when she came out to take her final bow, and the reaction was totally genuine.
But that’s not going to stop me from teasing her.
“Criticisms?” she repeats. The outrage is evident in her voice. She folds her arms over her chest. “What would you know about acting to critique me?”
