Page 103 of The Trophy

“Jon, hey.” I greet him, grabbing the back of his bicep when I finally catch up with him.

“Seriously, Lake,” he pants, wide eyed, his nostrils flaring with terror, as pale as if he had seen a ghost. “I wasn’t following you, I had no idea you’d be there. You can tell them I stayed away like they asked?—”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are they? I haven’t seen you in weeks, so I was just saying hi.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at me. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Lake,” he bites out. “You wanted me to stay away, message received. So now it’s on you to leave me alone.”

I’m a little confused, but looking at Jon, I can’t help but compare him with my guys.

I guess hanging out with tall, muscular star athletes, I got used to bulging muscles and imposing frames and now Jon almost looks smaller than I remember him.

“I wanted you not to send me dick pics and not to wait for me in my room naked and surrounded by rose petals and candles. Maybe I would have even liked a heads up that you were going to transfer here for me after blocking me and calling me a stalker. I didn’t want to find you hiding in the bushes outside my door in the morning; but since you didn’t go back to Princeton, I guess there’s no harm in saying hello if we bump into one another around campus.”

Jon’s eyes narrow into two suspicious slits. “Where’s the trick, Lake? Do you have the entire hockey team waiting to beat the crap out of me with their sticks?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I raise my voice, exasperated by his weird reaction to a simple, innocent hello. “I was just saying hi, how are you and are you going home for Christmas? That was all. I don’t understand why you’re acting like I’m Jack The Ripper and you’re a prostitute alone at night in a dark alleyway.”

Ok, that might sound oddly specific, but my last final was for an elective criminology course and this year’s special module was about Jack The Ripper. Very disturbing but interesting piece of history, if you ask me.

“Are you even surprised?” Jon raises his voice to match my pitch.

I don’t even stop to think about how we must look to passerbys, standing a few yards outside the coffee shop, yelling at each other.

“First you bait me into trying to get back together by posting photos from your dates and your parties with the hockey team. When I finally take that bait, first you act like it’s all in my head?—”

“Maybe because it is? I never posted anything and at the risk of repeating myself, you had me blocked from all social media. I told you that the Instagram posts were Bay’s idea; but trust me, she wasn’t trying to bait you anywhere, she was just trying to rub your face in it and show you what you were missing. I had and have moved on, Jon.”

His lips flatten in a tight line. “Fine. Then stay moved on. If it’s true that you no longer care about me and you aren’t trying to get back together, then stay the fuck away from me and most of all, don’t send your Neanderthal hockey players to threaten me.”

At first his last words don’t even register. “Fine, sorry for being polite and saying hi—wait. What did you just say? Who threatened you?”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Please, play your stupid games all you want, but don’t insult my intelligence. Or did you forget that two of your dates showed up at the bar where I was just minding my own business and having a beer after a heavy week, when my roommate had put a sock on the door of our dorm room? They pretended to be friendly at first and bought me a drink and then they not so subtly threatened me to stay away from you or they would have beaten me with their hockey sticks.”

He must be lying. Right?

“What the heck are you talking about? I didn’t send anyone?—”

“Just drop the act, Lake, will you?” he says, rolling his eyes. “Why else would two of the guys you’ve been dating come to threaten me?”

It beats me. I mean, I told Blaze and Luca about the dick pic and the rose petals and… oh shit.

“Were they Blaze and Luca?” I ask, even though at this point I’m almost certain.

“Fuck if I know.” He scowls. “You know I don’t follow hockey. But yeah, one was definitely Luca. The prince guy, everyone knows about him on campus. And the other one was big, dark haired and with a violent look in his eyes.”

Ah, that must be Blaze.

I don’t correct Jon on his last statement. Blaze is the sweetest man in the world. Unless someone hurts his teammates or I guess his loved ones.

“I—I’m sorry,” I don’t even know what I’m sorry about. “Well, tell your parents Merry Christmas and see you around. Or not.”

I quickly walk away, worried that this pointless encounter has made me late to work.

I really don't know how to feel about Blaze and Luca going to confront Jon.

LUCA

Ominous clouds darken the sky as I park my SUV in the library parking lot, near the entrance.

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