The following evening I go over to Summer’s house, because that’s how desperate I am to not think about Jake. I’m willing to walk into the lion’s den, be around Hollis and Hunter and maybe even Nate, who all think I betrayed them by sleeping with the enemy. I’m willing to deal with whatever angry words they hurl my way, because it beats obsessing and agonizing over the fact that Jake doesn’t want to be with me.
Ironically, I would have been perfectly content hanging out with my dad tonight. After years of avoiding being in the same room as him, I’m finally excited for us to spend time together. But he had a meeting tonight. The dean of Briar is apparently interested in discussing the prospect of extending my father’s contract with the university, which he totally deserves. But that meant if I stayed home, I’d be alone. With my own thoughts.
To my surprise, I’m not tarred and feathered the moment I walk through Summer’s door. In fact, when I poke my head into the living room, Hollis looks up from the couch and offers a preoccupied, “Hey, Jensen.”
“That’s it? I expected a lot more yelling.”
“Why would I yell?”
I’m dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me? The last time we spoke, you called me a traitor.”
“Oh. Right.” I’ve never heard him sound so blasé and uninterested. And it takes a second to realize he’s not even watching TV. He’s staring at a black screen, and his cell phone sits untouched on the coffee table.
“What’s going on?” I demand. “Are you okay? Where are Summer and Fitz? Upstairs?”
“No, they went to pick up the pizza. Summer refuses to get it delivered ever since the delivery kid bitched at her for giving him a five-dollar tip.”
“Isn’t five dollars a decent tip?” If not, then I’ve been tipping pizza delivery boys wrong for years.
“Not according to Mr. Money Bags over there.”
I unzip my jacket and duck into the hall to hang it up before joining Hollis on the couch. His vacant stare is alarming, to say the least. “All right. What’s going on with you?”
He shrugs. “Nothing much. Studying for finals. Rupi dumped me, but no biggie.”
“Wait, what?” I’m genuinely shocked to hear that. “Seriously? Why did she dump you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Who cares, right?” He hops to his feet. “I’m grabbing a beer. You want one?”
“Sure. But this conversation isn’t over.”
“Nah, it is.”
When he comes back and hands me a Bud Light, I’m reminded of my bowling date with Jake and how we had to choke down that watery beer. Also, it doesn’t surprise me that it’s Hollis’s beer of choice. He’s totally a Bud Light kind of guy.
“I’m calling bullshit,” I say.
“Bullshit on what?”
“Bullshit on the bullshit you’re trying to feed me about not caring about Rupi. You do care. You liked her.”
“I did not. She’s so annoying.”
“Really? So why did you keep hanging out with her?”
“Because I was trying to get in her pants, Brenna. Come on. Keep up.”
“Uh-huh. So you were just trying to get laid?”
“I was. And now I don’t have to work for it anymore. I’ve got a dozen other chicks lining up to bang me. So, good riddance.” His tone holds zero conviction.
“Admit it, Hollis, you like her. You like her shrill voice and her bossiness and her endless chattering.”
“I don’t,” he insists. “She’s not even my type.”
“She’s not,” I agree. “She’s not a puck bunny with a centerfold body, or one of those plastic girls I see you hitting on at Malone’s. She’s weird and tiny and has an inexplicable amount of self-confidence.” I grin at him. “And you like her. Admit. It.”
The tips of his ears turn red. He rakes both hands through his hair, and then glumly sticks out his chin. “She was growing on me,” he finally confesses.
“Ha!” I say victoriously. “I knew it. So now give her a call and tell her that.”
“No way. She dumped me.” He gazes at me in challenge. “If your little Harvard boyfriend dumped you, would you go chasing after him?”
Laughter spills out, bordering on hysterical. But I can’t stop it. I rest my head on Hollis’s shoulder and giggle uncontrollably.
“What’s going on right now?” he asks in confusion. “Are you high, Jensen?”
“No. It’s just…” I giggle some more. “He did dump me.”
Hollis straightens up in shock, bumping my head off his shoulder. His blue eyes are wide with amazement. “Are you serious? Was he high?”
“He wasn’t high, and, yes, I’m serious. He broke it off yesterday. Said he needed to focus on the tournament and his team and I was too much of a distraction, blah blah blah.”
“That’s horseshit. I always knew Harvard men were dumbasses, but this is a whole new level of dumbassery. Has he seen you? You’re the hottest girl on the planet.”
Even though the compliment is coming from Mike Hollis, I’m still genuinely flattered. “Thanks, Hollis.”
He swings his arm around me. “This just confirmed everything I already knew. Harvard sucks and Connelly sucks harder.”
“I second that,” drawls Hunter, who enters the living room with a beer in hand. He’s drinking a Founders All Day IPA—wait, why didn’t I get that option?
I wince when I notice the cast on his left wrist. At least it’s not his right one, so he still has use of his dominant hand. And his season is over, so it’s not like he’ll be missing any games. Nevertheless, the cast triggers a rush of sympathy.
“Hey,” I say carefully. “How’s the wrist?”
“What? You can’t tell?” He raises his arm. “It’s broken.” But he doesn’t sound pissed. Just resigned.
“Can I sign it?” I tease.
“Sorry, but Hollis kind of ruined that for everyone,” Hunter answers in a dry tone. He approaches the couch to give me a better view of the cast.
In a black Sharpie, someone drew a dick and balls.
I sigh. “Real mature, Hollis. Also, you used a surprising amount of detail for the balls.”
He shrugs. “Well, you know what they say.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “No, what do they say?”
Hunter settles in the armchair. “I’m also curious to know.”
“For fuck’s sake. Seriously? I don’t actually have anything to add to that,” Hollis grumbles in aggravation. “Most people don’t question you when you say, ‘You know what they say.’”
I would love to spend one day in Hollis’s brain. Just one, though. Any more than that and I’d probably get trapped in the Upside Down. “All right. You’ve dodged this enough. Why did Rupi end it?”
“Rupi ended it?” Hunter echoes. “Does that mean we don’t have to listen to you guys screaming at each other at all hours of the night anymore? Sweet!”
“Be nice, Davenport. He’s really bummed about this.”
Hunter cocks his head. “For real?”
“No,” Hollis says firmly. “Not for real. It doesn’t matter to me in the slightest.”
“If it doesn’t matter, then there’s no reason not to tell us why it ended,” I counter.
“It was stupid, okay? Doesn’t even bear repeating.”
“What did you do?” Hunter asks in amusement.
Hollis lets out a heavy breath. “She wanted to give each other nicknames and I wasn’t into it.”
Um. Okay.
I’m trying very hard not to laugh.
Hunter doesn’t try—he bursts out laughing. “What were the nicknames?”
“She didn’t actually have any. She wanted us to come up with a list and then—” Hollis is visibly clenching his teeth. “—discuss each one and say how it makes us feel.”
Hunter nods solemnly. “Of course. Because that is a thing.”
I silence him with my eyes. Hollis is being vulnerable with us right now, and he doesn’t deserve to be mocked.
Oh my God. Who am I? Is this the Upside Down? Because since when do I pass up the opportunity to mock Mike Hollis?
“Did you not like any of her ideas?” I ask carefully.
He stares at me. “I didn’t even let her start brainstorming. Who makes a list of nicknames and sits around voting on them like fucking American Idol? I told her it was crazy and that she was crazy and then I suggested that maybe her nickname should be ‘crazy’ and she lost her shit and stormed out. And then she texted me later to say she can’t be with somebody who isn’t, and I quote, all in.”
“She has a point. It’s hard to be in a relationship when both people aren’t all in.” I shrug. “Also, I don’t blame her for bailing. Who wants to be called crazy all the time? It’s bound to give someone a complex.”
“She already has a complex. It’s called insanity.”
“Hollis,” I chide.
He’s suitably shame-faced.
“I bet you’ve called her crazy more times than you’ve said you liked her. Actually, I bet you’ve never even said the words, ‘I like you.’ Have you?” I challenge.
“Yes.”
“Hollis.”
“Fine. No.”
“Be honest—do you want to keep dating this girl?”
After a very long, embarrassed silence, he nods.
“Okay. Then give me your phone.”
Despite the misgiving in his eyes, he hands it over. I scroll through his contacts until I find Rupi’s name—with the heart-eyes emoji beside it. She picks up on the first ring, which tells me not all hope is lost.
“What do you want, Mike?” She doesn’t sound like her usual chirpy self.
“Hey, Rupi. It’s Brenna.”
“Brenna? Why do you have Mike’s phone?”
“I’m putting you on speaker, okay? Hollis is here beside me. Say hello, Hollis.”
“Hello,” he mutters.
“Anyway, we were having a little chat,” I go on, “and Hollis has something he wants to say to you.”
“What is it?” she asks warily.
“Hollis?” I prompt.
He doesn’t speak.
“Okay, then I’ll say it. Hollis likes you, Rupi. He pretends he doesn’t, but deep down he does. He pretends he doesn’t like all the arguing, but deep down he’s all about the drama-llama. His favorite show is Keeping Up with the Kardashians, for Pete’s sake.”
Hunter snickers from the armchair and takes a sip of his beer.
“Yeah, but his favorite Kardashian is Khloe,” Ruby says darkly. “Everybody knows that Kourtney is the best one.”
“Kourtney doesn’t even make the top three,” Mike grumbles at the phone.
“See! That’s why it can’t work!”
“Nah,” I disagree. “That’s why it will work. You don’t want to be with someone who’s exactly like you. You want someone who challenges you, who inspires you to open up when you’ve been closed off your entire life—” My voice cracks. Oh no. I’m thinking about Jake again, and I notice Hollis shooting me a strange look. I ignore it and keep talking to his stalker. I mean, girlfriend. “Listen, I know he’s always calling you crazy, but coming from him, that’s actually a compliment.”
Hunter snickers again.
“Explain yourself,” Rupi orders.
“Have you met him? He’s crazy. And from the sounds of it, his family’s crazy, too.”
“Hey!” Hollis protests. “I wish you wouldn’t bring my family into this.”
“If wishes were horses we’d all be equestrians,” I say smugly, and that shuts him right up. “So really, Rupi, when he calls you that, it’s because he’s recognizing a kindred spirit.” I wink at Mike. “He sees his soul mate.”
A breathy gasp floats out of the phone. “Is that true, Mike?”
He scowls at me, slashing one finger across his throat to signal that he’s going to kill me for throwing out the term “soul mate.” But after the Kardashian snafu, I had to bring out the big guns.
“Mike?” Rupi says.
“It’s true,” he mumbles. “I like you, okay? I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re awesome.”
“Then why don’t you want to give each other cute nicknames?” she demands.
“Because it’s so—”
I shake my head in warning.
“—important,” he finishes, saving himself. “It’s a huge step forward in the relationship.”
I’m worried that Hunter might die laughing. He presses his face to his forearm to muffle the sounds.
“But fine,” Hollis says. “If you want to come up with nicknames, we’ll come up with nicknames. My first suggestion is ‘kitten.’”
“Kitten!” Hunter howls.
“I don’t know if I like that one for me,” Rupi says slowly.
“No, it would be for me. I also think—actually, wait, I’m taking you off speakerphone.” He taps his phone and brings it to his ear. “I’m going upstairs. Brenna and Hunter don’t get a say in the nickname conversation.” As he nears the doorway, he suddenly stops. He glances at me over his shoulder and mouths, Thank you.
My heart actually melts a little. For Hollis. Imagine that.
I smile graciously. Once he’s out of the room, I turn to Hunter and say, “My work here is done.”
He grins. “Solid job you did there.”
I study him. “You seem to be in a pretty good mood, considering, you know…” I nod toward his cast. “And you don’t seem pissed at me at all.”
“I was never pissed at you.”
“You sent me a nasty text about thanking my boyfriend for you,” I remind him.
“Yeah, the day after that jackass Hemley broke my wrist. I was still smarting over everything that went down during the game, and you were an easy target.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He shrugs. “And I was indirectly pissed at Connelly. But…truthfully, he didn’t do anything wrong. He tried his best to break up the fight.” Another shrug. “That said, I still think if Nate and I were playing that night, we’d be the ones facing Michigan this weekend.”
“I think so, too.” I release a glum breath. “We were in the lead for most of the first period, until you guys left the game. We had it.”
“We had it,” he echoes, before taking a hasty sip of his beer. “And then we lost it because of me.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t get injured on purpose.”
“No, but my off-the-ice behavior cost us the game. I spent the last couple months banging my way through campus. And then when that got boring, I started hitting the bars in Boston and picking up strangers, and look what happened.” He groans. “Apparently Violet was aiming to get back at Hemley because they got in some fight. She knew who I was when we met.”
“Really?” I gasp.
“Oh yeah. And the first thing she did after I left was call him to taunt him about it. So the moment Hemley got on the ice during the finals, he started questioning me, and, well, you know the rest.”
Hunter shakes his head in disgust. It’s clearly self-directed, though.
“I never used to be like that. I hooked up, sure, but I didn’t make it my mission in life to sleep with any chick that crossed my path. I lost my head, became a ‘pussy posse of one,’ as Hollis likes to call it.” He offers a dry grin. “I need to clean up my act, get my shit together. I want to take the team to the Frozen Four next season. Nate’s graduating, and I don’t know if Coach will be choosing the next captain, or if the guys will vote on it, or what. But I want it to be me.”
I whistle. “That’s a lofty goal.”
“I know. And I plan on working hard to reach it. So…no more fucking around. Literally.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m taking a vow of celibacy.”
A gust of laughter flies out. “Um. That’s never going to happen. I give you one week, tops.”
“You think I can’t keep it in my pants longer than a week?” He looks mildly insulted.
“You’re a twenty-year-old hockey player. No, I don’t think you can keep it in your pants longer than a week.”
Hunter smirks. “Alright, then. Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”
