Hannah
MY SECOND DAY back on campus, I embark on my own mission: Operation Believe It When You See It. Because clearly the only way I can convince Garrett to back off is to prove to him that I’m in the process of moving on, which means I need to find a guy to go out on a date with. Stat.
The first opportunity arises when I pop into the Coffee Hut to grab a hot chocolate. It’s snowing like a bitch outside, and I stomp the snow off my boots on the mat by the door before heading for the back of the line. That’s when I notice that the guy in front of me looks familiar. When he places his order and moves to the pick-up counter, I get a flash of his profile and realize it’s Jimmy. Jimmy…what’s his last name again? Pauley? No, Paulson. Jimmy Paulson from British Lit and the Sigma party. Perfect. We’ve got history. We’re practically in a relationship.
“Jimmy, hey,” I greet him after I order my drink and join him at the counter.
He visibly stiffens at the sound of my voice. “Oh. Hey.” His gaze darts around the coffee shop, as if he doesn’t want anyone to see us talking.
“So, listen,” I start, “I was just thinking, we haven’t really talked since that party back in October…”
The barista plops a foam cup in front of Jimmy, who snatches it up so fast I don’t even see his hand move.
I hurry on. “I thought it would be nice to catch up and…”
He’s already edging away from me. Jesus, why does he look so terrified? Does he think I’m going to shiv him or something?
“…I was wondering if maybe you want to grab a coffee sometime,” I finish.
“Oh.” He inches farther away. “Uh. Thanks for the offer, but…uh, yeah, I don’t drink coffee.”
I stare at the coffee cup in his hand.
He follows my gaze and gulps. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’m…meeting someone…all the way on the other side of the campus and it’s…uh, far, so I’m kind of in a hurry.”
Well, at least he’s not lying about being in a hurry—because he flies out the door like an Olympic sprinter.
Okay, that was…weird.
Frowning, I get my hot chocolate and go outside, heading in the direction of Bristol House. It’s slow going because the snow is falling faster than the campus maintenance crews can shovel it, and my boots sink into two feet of it every time I take a step. But the forced leisurely pace allows me to encounter another element of weirdness. When I was dating Garrett, people said hello and waved to me all the time. Today, everyone I pass seems to be going out of their way to avoid me, particularly the guys.
Is this what disgraced Amish people feel like when they’ve been shunned? Because everyone is looking right through me, and I don’t like it.
I also don’t understand it.
As I make my way to the dorms, I decide to give Dexter a call and see if he wants to go out tonight. Maybe to Malone’s—no, wait, Garrett might be there. Another bar in town, then. Or the college rec hall. Anywhere I might be able to meet a guy.
I approach Bristol just as opportunity number two exits the building next door. It’s Justin, and unlike the rest of the world, he actually lifts his hand in a wave.
I wave back, mostly out of relief that someone looks happy to see me. “Hey, stranger,” he calls, making his way over to me.
He’s sporting that rumpled, rolled-out-of-bed hair, and yet I don’t find it so adorable anymore. It just makes him look like a slob. Or maybe a phony, because I’m pretty sure I can see gel in his hair, which means he must’ve taken the time to create the I-don’t-care style. Which makes him a fucking liar.
I meet him halfway. “Hey. How was your break?”
“Good. Not much rain in Seattle this time of year, so I had to settle for a shit ton of snow instead. Went snowboarding, skiing, hot-tubbing. Fun times.” Justin’s dimples pop out, and they do nothing for me.
But…hell, he’s the only guy who’s so much as looked my way today.
Beggars can’t be choosers, right?
“Sounds fun. Um, so—” Nope.
Nope, nope, nope. Just…nope.
I can’t go there. Not with this guy. Garrett helped me make Justin jealous back in October. I canceled a date with him when I realized I wanted to be with Garrett. And I know how much Garrett dislikes Justin.
There’s no way I can open this Justin door, not just because my feelings for him are non-existent, but because it would be like sticking a knife in Garrett’s chest.
“So hi,” I finish. “Yeah…I just came over to say hi.” I hold up my hot chocolate cup as if it’s somehow a part of this conversation. “I’m going inside to drink this. Good to see you.”
His annoyed voice chills my back. “What the fuck just happened?” he asks.
The guilt pricking at my stomach spurs me to turn around. “I’m sorry,” I say with a sigh. “I’m such an asshole.”
A wry smile plays on his lips. “Well, I didn’t want to say it, but…”
I walk back to him, my gloved hands still wrapped around my cup. “I never meant to lead you on,” I admit. “When I said I’d go out with you, I really wanted to at the time. I mean it.” Pain lodges in my throat. “I didn’t expect to fall for him, Justin.”
Now he just looks resigned. “Do people ever expect to fall for someone?
I think it just kinda happens.”
“Yeah, I guess so. He…snuck up on me.” I meet his eyes, hoping he can see the genuine regret I’m feeling. “But I was interested in you. I never lied about that.”
“Was, huh?” He sounds sad.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m…damn it, I’m a mess, and I’m still in love with Garrett, but if you ever want to start over, as friends, I’m one hundred percent on board. We can talk Hemingway sometimes.”
Justin’s lips twitch. “How do you know I like Hemingway?”
I give him a faint smile. “Um. Well, I may have done some recon back when I had a crush on you. See? I wasn’t lying about that.”
Rather than make a cross with his hands and shout Stalker!, he chuckles softly. “Huh. I guess not. That’s good to know, at least.”
After an awkward silence, Justin shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “All right. I’m up for giving this friend thing a shot. Text me if you ever want to grab coffee sometime.”
He wanders off, and a weight lifts off my chest.
Upstairs in my dorm, I congratulate myself on a potential disaster averted and return to mulling over my mission. Allie doesn’t get back from New York until tomorrow. Stella is out of town, too. When I text Dex, he vetoes a hangout session because he’s cramming for his last exam. When I message Meg, she says she has plans with Jeremy.
Sighing, I scroll through my phone contacts until a name sparks my interest. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of making this call.
Allie’s boyfriend picks up after several rings. “Hey, what’s up?” “Hey. It’s Hannah.”
“No kidding,” Sean cracks. “Your number is in my phone.”
“Oh, right.” I hesitate. “So listen, I know Allie isn’t back from her dad’s yet, but I was wondering if…” I trail off, then blurt out, “What are you doing tonight? Do you want to hang out?”
My best friend’s boyfriend falls silent. I don’t blame him. I’ve never called him to hang out without Allie before. For that matter, I’ve never called him, period.
“You realize this is weird, right?” Sean says frankly. I sigh. “Yes.”
“What’s going on? Are you just bored or something? Or is this a fucked up hit-on-your-friend’s-boyfriend kinda thing? Wait—is Allie listening in?” Sean raises his voice. “Allie, if you’re there, I love you. I would never, ever cheat on you with your best friend.”
I snort into the phone. “She’s not on the line, dumbass, but that’s good to know. And trust me, I’m not hitting on you. I…well…I was hoping we could hang out with some of your frat brothers tonight. Maybe you could, you know, set me up with one of them.”
“Are you serious?” he exclaims. “No fucking way. You’re too good for any of those idiots, and I’m pretty sure Allie would kill me if I hooked you up with one of them. Besides…” He clams up abruptly.
“Besides what?” I demand. He doesn’t answer.
“Finish that sentence, Sean.” “I’d rather not.”
“I’d rather you did.” My suspicion snaps into overdrive. “Oh my God.” I gasp. “Do you know why every guy on campus is suddenly treating me like I have an STD?”
“Maybe?” he says.
“Maybe?” When he doesn’t answer, I groan in frustration. “I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what you know, I’ll—”
“Okay, okay,” he interrupts. “I’ll tell you.” And then he does.
And my response is a loud shriek of outrage. “He did what?”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I burst through the doors of Briar’s hockey arena. Cold air immediately slaps my cheeks, but it doesn’t succeed in cooling the fire burning inside me. It’s five-thirty, which means Garrett and the team have just finished practice, so I bypass the rink doors and march right to the locker rooms in the back of the building. I’m so pissed off that my whole body is trembling from the force of my anger.
Garrett has officially stepped over the line. No, he’s so far past the line that I can’t even see the stupid line. And there’s no way I’m letting him get away with this ludicrous, juvenile bullshit.
I reach the locker room door as one of the players walks out of it. “Is Garrett in there?” I bark.
He looks startled to see me. “Yeah, but—”
I bulldoze past him and grab the door handle.
The guy protests from behind. “I don’t think you should go in th—” I burst into the locker room and—
Penises!
Sweet Jesus.
Penises everywhere.
Horror slams into me as I register what I’m seeing. Oh God. I’ve stumbled onto a penis convention. Big penises and small penises and fat penises and penis-shaped penises. It doesn’t matter which direction I move my head because everywhere I look I see penises.
My mortified gasp draws the attention of every penis—er, guy, in the room. In a heartbeat, towels snap up and hands cover junk and bodies shuffle around, while I stand in the front of the room blushing like a tomato. “Wellsy?” A bare-chested Logan grins at me, one shoulder propped up
against his locker. It looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. “Penis—Logan,” I blurt out. “Hi.” I do my best to avoid making visual
contact with the half naked males milling in the room, all of whom are either grinning in amusement or blanching in alarm. “I’m looking for Garrett.”
With a barely restrained smirk, Logan hooks his thumb at a doorway in the back, which I assume leads to the showers because steam is rolling out of it.
“Thanks.” I shoot him a grateful look and head in that direction, just as someone emerges from the steamy space.
Dean appears and I see his penis.
“Hey, Wellsy,” he drawls. Completely unfazed by my presence, he strolls naked toward his locker as if finding me in here is a daily occurrence for him.
I charge forward, debating whether I should close my eyes, but luckily all the showers have saloon-type doors and are divided by partitions. As I march down the tiled floor, heads swivel my way. One of the heads belongs to Birdie, whose eyes widen when I walk past him.
“Hannah?” he squeaks.
I ignore him and keep walking until I spot a familiar back. My gaze conducts a quick double-check, and yep, golden skin, tattoo, dark hair. It’s Garrett, all right.
At the sound of my footsteps, he twists around and gapes at the sight of me. “Wellsy?”
I stalk up to the half-door, level him with my meanest scowl, and shout, “What is the matter with you?”
