Page 45 of The Love You Win

“You guys look hot. Planning on picking up a hockey player?”

Jess laughs. “I wouldn’t mind. Have you seen photos of Ryder Hanson? He’s a rookie this year, but he already has a huge female following. He’s hot. Plus, I hear a few of them are bona fide sex gods.”

“Yes,” Nevaeh agrees. “Like Griffin Wright? I’ve heard he’s an absolute beast in bed.”

That has me laughing. Griffin? The goofy blond with endless jokes and pure golden-retriever energy is a beast in bed? Somehow I can’t see it. A good time, sure, but a beast?

“What?” Nev narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing, he’s just… Griffin’s so not your type.”

She and Jess exchange a loaded look before pinning me with the full weight of their attention.

“What? Can we just go? We’re going to be late.”

“Hold on. What do you mean, he’s not my type? How would you know that, Isla?”

I shrug. “I told you I hung out with Maddox and some of the guys last Saturday when they rescued me from that awful shithead, Blake. Griffin was there.”

Nevaeh squeals as she pulls out of my building’s parking lot. “Who else was there?”

“Um, Sebastian and Logan. I think the four of them are good friends. At least, that’s the impression I got. They’re all really nice, but total players. Well, maybe not Sebastian. He seemed quieter and chill. Less fuckboy.” I could see him and Maddox being close. They probably hang out and play video games or sit in the same room and read books while Griffin and Logan are out screwing anything with a half-decent pair of boobs and two brain cells to rub together.

“You have to introduce us,” Jess says. “Ohmygod, what if we all ended up with sexy hockey players? We could triple date.”

That earns a snort of laughter from me. “Good luck. I don’t get the impression that they’re the dating type.”

Jess considers it for a moment as her brows furrow. “That’s okay. How many guys are on the team? Like twenty, right? Plenty of dick to choose from.”

“Never pegged you two as jersey chasers.”

“Normally we wouldn’t be, but after we won that date for you with Maddox, we went on a bunny trail. We spent like three days staring at photos of the team, even watched a couple games online.”

“Really?” That surprises me. None of us are all that sporty, and I can’t remember the last time either of my friends expressed even the smallest interest in any kind of game.

Jess nods. “Yep. And the whole suits-on-game-day thing?” She fans her face. “Seriously, Isla. Those men wear the hell out of those suits. I mean, damn.”

That I could see. They’re all tall and muscular, and I’ve seen Maddox in a suit. Jess is right. Maddox wears the suit. When Alex wore one? The suit wore him. It’s the difference between a man and a boy.

“Well, good luck with that. Every other woman in the building will have the same idea, but you two certainly look hot tonight. I’m sure you’ll snag one of them.” As soon as I say the words, my stomach tightens uncomfortably because I know I’m right.

Most of the women there will be on the prowl, hoping to catch the players’ attention. Maddox has been texting and joking around with me, but will he even look my way when he’s surrounded by prettier, more confident women? Probably not. And that’s okay. That’s fine. Maddox isn’t my type, anyway. He just wants to be my friend, and that’s all I want, too.

Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll finally believe it. Physically, Maddox is everyone’s type. But after he agreed to speak at my school and then saved me from a scary jerk, my attraction to him became more than physical.

All too soon, we’re stepping out of Nevaeh’s car at the valet station. My stomach is a tangle of nerves, and I can’t stop fidgeting.

“Come on,” Jess says, grabbing my hand. “Let’s go have some fun. This is just a fancy night out with the girls. No dates, no pressure, no expectations.”

A few photographers snap photos of the important-looking guests as they walk down the red carpet leading into the arena. They shout a few names, ask a few questions, and their cameras flash brightly. At least no one will bother taking photos of me. I’m not rich or important.

“Isla Harding?” a young woman calls out as the girls and I make our way up the carpet. “Is it true you’re dating Maddox Graves? Can you tell us how long you’ve been in a relationship?”

Oh, no. That stupid Instagram post. I stammer, at a loss for words because I never expected any of these people to have seen that photo, let alone ask about it. Cameras flash at us. Jess tugs at my hand.

“Just ignore them,” Jess whispers in my ear. “Smile and show them what a babe you are, but ignore the questions.”

I try to do as she says, but I’m sure my smile looks forced and the only color left in my face is the blush I brushed on over my foundation.

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