Page 25 of On the Breakaway

“Boys are accessories, Bec. You pick one that looks good with your outfit for the night and take it off when you’re done.”

She stares at me for a beat, then laughs, loud and bright. “Oh my God. You cannot be serious.”

“I’m completely serious.”

“That is the worst analogy I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s accurate,” I insist. “You don’t build your whole life around an accessory.”

“One of these days you’re going to meet someone who doesn’t fit into your neat little box.”

“Then I’ll build a bigger box,” I shoot back easily.

Becca groans. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Unfortunately.”

We push our way toward the back of the bar, where they’ve roped off a section for her party. It pays to be a regular here; they know that they’re about to make bank off of us tonight, so they have no issues making sure Becca has a couple of tables set aside.

Before we get there, Becca slows and glances at me meaningfully. “No rules tonight, except one.”

“Why do you get to make rules?”

“Because it’s my birthday,” she shoots back. “Rule is, you’re nice to the boys so they don’t leave my party early.”

“I’m always nice.”

“You’re never nice.” She scrunches her nose dramatically.

“That’s an overexaggeration.” I can see her almost argue back, but I concede. “Fine. Consider it your birthday present.” I wink.

She gives me a side hug. “Thank you.”

A smile spreads across her face as if she owns the place when we reach the roped-off section. I follow behind her, rolling my shoulders and settling into something familiar.

“Accessories,” she reminds me over her shoulder.

I smirk. “We’ll see what matches.”

She disappears into the sea of arms as people pull her in for hugs. She slips into a conversation with someone I don’t recognize.

People are scattered across the space in clusters, drinks in hand, while music plays through the speakers. Everyone seems to know someone, but as I look around, I don’t know anyone well enough to pop into a conversation. Sure, most of the hockey team is here, but aside from Liam, I’m on small talk terms with most of them.

Girls are grouped in small circles, leaning into each other, laughing, dressed like they want to be watched, probably on purpose. After all, this may be Becca’s birthday party, but the NHL players always draw a crowd of willing women. Knowing Becca, she encouraged it. She’s a ‘the more the merrier’ type of person.

Wesley told me she was coming, but considering her fallout with Nathan, I’m not surprised she’s waiting until there’s a bigger crowd before showing up, and Harper already said she'd be late.

I shift on my feet, suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m standing here like an idiot.

I hate this part.

I’m not shy. I’m not even remotely quiet. I can pretty much talk to a fly on the wall if I have to, but walking into a room where everyone already fits somewhere is horrible for anyone.

I take another step forward, scanning the room.

“Hey!”