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A chuckle rumbles from his chest.
I glance around, realizing we don’t have any candles. “Give me one second.”
Someone hands Ollie a shot of whiskey as I move over to the bar, weaving my way through the partying bodies. A guitar strums across the room as the band tunes their instruments.
I step up behind Sam and try to get the bartender’s attention.
“You look hot in that dress,” Sam murmurs to some random girl, his words slurring and sloppy.
I throw up a little in my mouth as his fingers skim the blonde’s thigh, lifting the short material of her skimpy skirt in the process. I’ve never seen her before.
“You always look hot,” she purrs back at him.
I roll my eyes as I eavesdrop, wondering how he ever managed to land Oakley if this is the extent of his game. But I guess the hockey players don’t have to be smooth. They play the most popular sport on campus, and they’re all in amazing shape with hot bodies. I’ll grudgingly admit that Sam is gorgeous, though his personality downgrades his looks, in my opinion. At least lately.
“Yeah?” Sam says while nuzzling the girl’s neck.
I can’t hold in a snort. His gaze whips around as his eyes narrow on me.
“What?” he challenges. There’s a distinct sharpness to his tone.
We’re not the best of friends these days. In fact, we barely tolerate each other.
I watch him from beneath my eyelashes. “I was just wondering if your lame pickup lines actually work on the opposite sex.” I glance over at the woman standing next to us. She’s twirling a piece of her blonde hair around a finger and gazing at Sam blankly. “Apparently so.”
“Don’t be a bitch, Mads.” He slurs my nickname until it sounds like more than one syllable.
“What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Sam.” I blink my eyes at him and plaster a fake smile on my face until he turns away.
“What can I get you?” The bartender leans on the wooden surface across from me.
I recognize his face from other nights here, but I don’t know his name.
“I was wondering if you have any candles hidden back there.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Candles?”
I nod and motion back toward our table. “We’re celebrating Ollie Burnham tonight. He’s going to play for the Hawks next fall. We brought a cake, but I forgot the candles. Can you help?”
His whole expression changes when I mention Ollie and the team he’s going to play for. He excuses himself and disappears around back. A few minutes later, he comes out with four mismatched candles in his hand and a book of matches.
“This is the best I can do,” he declares.
“Ah! Thank you!” I exclaim, taking them from him. “You’re the best!”
I head back over to the table and arrange the candles, lighting them one by one. Then, I wrangle everyone in the vicinity, and we sing some weird, mixed-up congratulations song to Ollie that sounds more like an out-of-tune version of “Happy Birthday” with different words. But the look of pride and contentment on Ollie’s face is worth the fuss.
The entire bar watches as he blows out the candles, and I cut the cake, giving myself the biggest corner piece with the most frosting.
Okay … maybe I did want the cake more for me than for Ollie.
I cut off a slice for the man of the hour and lift it with my fingers toward Ollie’s face. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. I look on, giving him my most innocent expression. Someone yells his name. He glances over, tipping his chin in recognition.
“Take a bite,” I say, taking advantage of the fact that he was momentarily distracted.
Ollie pulls his attention back to me as I hold the cake closer to his mouth. He opens right as I smash it across his cheek, laughing as I pull away.
He curses and lunges for me before I can get away, grabbing me around the waist. “I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he mutters, plastering his cheek to mine and smearing the frosting and cake across my skin in retaliation.
