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Okay, that’s weird. Maybe the neighbor just has the television a little too loud. I don’t hear anything now, though.

I shut the door and glance at my phone.

Juniper: I’m never going out with you. Not now. Not ever. Get it through your thick hockey skull. I don’t like you.

Me: Because I pretended to be Conrad? That was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry.

Juniper: You’re only sorry that you got caught.

I laugh under my breath. She’s right, but it doesn’t make it any less crappy, my actions. I do feel guilty and regret how I acted, and being hurt was no excuse.

Me: I am sorry, but I won’t keep bothering you.

I wait for her to respond, but I’m met with silence. I deserve that.

Eight

Juniper

“Quit staring at him. Unless you want to get into another fight with a hockey player,” Rowan says.

I desperately want to wipe that smile off her smug little face. It had been her idea tonight to grab drinks after the game at Blue Line. Not mine.

She’s enjoying my torment a little too much. No doubt she fully enjoyed watching him ream me at the bar the last time we were here. That was almost two weeks ago. She doesn’t even know about him pretending to be Conrad and standing me up on a date.

I don’t think I could ever tell her; it’s too humiliating.

And I definitely didn’t mention the text from over the weekend. Where he apologized. Doesn’t mean I forgave him. He’s still a jerkwad.

Why do I even come back here to Blue Line? Why must I torture myself?

Oh, right, because this place serves liquor that’s dirt cheap on a college budget. Well, that and Rowan’s buying the drinks tonight.

Her budget is even tighter than mine. She’s saving every penny to open her own business. That girl has real plans.

She sips from her drink and smiles at the team. Conrad gives her a nod, like he’s actually acknowledging our existence. He glances at me, but I’m merely an afterthought. It’s clear there’s some spark between Conrad and Rowan.

“Are you sleeping with Conrad?”

“What?” she gasps, practically spitting her drink across the room. “I wish!”

“You know he’s on that app you introduced me to?” I try to keep eye contact with Rowan, but his eyes are on me, Myles. It’s like he can’t stop staring at me.

I glance away a little too abruptly. It doesn’t look natural, but I don’t care. The last thing in the world I want is for him to think I showed up because he’s here tonight. In fact, he’s the reason I didn’t want to come out to Blue Line, but he’s just a guy. And it’s not like he’s even an ex. We’re nothing.

Less than nothing, if that’s a possibility.

We didn’t even see each other naked!

Why am I so worked up over a nothing?

One of Myles’s last texts to me was an apology, but that doesn’t cut it. Guys don’t get to apologize after being a douche and expect a free pass.

“Never mind. Forget I said anything. You deserve so much better than Conrad or any hockey player,” I state firmly, not even letting her flirt with the idea of dating anyone on the Ice Dragons team. They’re all the same. Focused on their jobs, they get tons of girls hitting on them, they’re not boyfriend material. “He’s trouble, and you, you have goals that he’ll derail you from.”

“I could use a little—railing,” Rowan says.

I groan, rolling my eyes and gesture the bartender over for another round of drinks. This time, shots.