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“Likewise.” I lift my chin. I won’t let her rattle me. “I came to support the Hawks. It was an amazing game, don’t you think?”

“You’re here to support the Hawks? Or Michael?” She points at my cheek, where Blake drew the number 17 for me.

Speaking of Blake, the goddess steps closer to me, her shoulder brushing mine, silently reminding me she’s here. She doesn’t ask to be introduced, but I can feel tension rolling off her, as if she’s already sensed my discomfort.

Sienna’s eyes drift down my jersey, and when she notices Michael’s number there too, her lips twist into a scowl. She quickly tamps down the expression, and when she looks up, she’s grinning again.

“Looks like my question has been answered.” She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Just like I shouldn’t be surprised you ended up here, out of all the places you could’ve gone. You’ve always followed him around like a shadow.”

The words hit me in the solar plexus, stealing my breath. Maybe because, at one time, they were true.

Blake splays her hand over my back, her palm radiating a warmth I desperately crave.

My breathing evens out. I’m so grateful she’s here with me.

“I don’t know who you are,” she comments, looking Sienna up and down, her lip curled, her eyes cold. “But that accusation is laughable. Isla and Michael are dating, and if one of them follows the other like a shadow, it’s definitely him. The boy is obsessed, and you sound bitter as hell.”

For a second, Sienna’s façade cracks. Her expression turns pinched, and she crosses her arms over her chest. Oh, she’s annoyed big time.

“I’m not bitter,” she says lightly, a knowing smile curving her lips. “Why would I be? He and I have been close for years.”

My shoulders tense. This jab hits where it still hurts, because no matter how we’ve mended things, the way our friendship exploded left a very deep cut in my heart, and it will take time to heal fully.

“I know what he’s like when he’s drunk,” she continues, eyes glimmering. “How he lets his guard down. How he forgets himself.”

Blake stiffens beside me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Sienna shrugs, sighing. “I’m just saying he may be playing the perfect boyfriend now, but that history is still there.”

What she said is like a knife to the chest. My muscles quiver, and heat rushes through my body. The image of Michael standing with his back pressed to the wall, his arms dangling at his sides while she kisses him, flashes in my mind. But then, his words from the rink follow, when he told me Uncle Colton thought his drink was spiked with something more than alcohol, and how he admitted barely remembering what happened that night. A bitter tang fills my mouth, my skin crawling.

I inhale sharply, banishing it, then straighten to my full height. “That’s funny,” I drawl, balling my fists. “Because what you’re describing sounds a lot like taking advantage of a guy who could barely stand.”

Her smile falters. Then, she snarls, “I didn’t force anyone.”

“Didn’t you?” I shoot back. “He was drunk. Hurt. Not thinking straight. And you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Shit,” Blake mutters. “That’s not history. That’s fucking gross.”

Sienna’s face reddens, but she holds her chin high. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know enough.” I step closer to her. “I know he didn’t choose you then. He never actually did.”

She puffs her cheeks, her eyes flashing with malice. “Careful,” she hisses. “You don’t know everything about him.”

I shrug. “Neither do you.”

With that, I walk away from her.

Blake follows me in silence, covering me physically and metaphorically. My steps are steady, but it honestly feels like I’m walking on thin ice.

The whole way down the stairs, I still feel Sienna’s eyes on me. They weigh a ton, burdening my soul.

God, why did I have to bump into her?

“Don’t pay her any attention.” Blake drapes an arm over my shoulders as we exit the building. “She’s a fucking loser who had a crush on the boy who was always crazy about you. She means nothing.” She pulls me in tighter. “And after what you said she did, she doesn’t deserve even an ounce of your attention. She’s no one.”

“You’re right. She’s probably the only person I really, really don’t like.”