Page 57 of The Hat Trick

“Very aware. Thanks.” I try to put my music back on again, but he doesn’t let me and it’s really going to piss me off if he doesn’t stop.

“Don’t fuck this up for us just because you do whatever it is you want all the time.” I can tell he’s getting pissed at me too. Good, Dumont can be too much of a good little boy and it’s nice to see him riled up sometimes. That fight he got in a couple weeks ago was good for him.

“I don’t do whatever I want all the time, I just don’t wantyoutellingmewhat the fuck to do.”

“Then if you’re planning on being a complete asshole, don’t string her along. Keep your freedom and leave her out of it.”

“If you’re not good with sharing, Dumont, just fucking say that.”

“That’s bullshit, this was my idea and it’s forher.If you aren’t in it for her, then don’t be in it.”

I want to keep pushing him, keep arguing, keep fighting because that’s what I do. But I realize I’m not fighting him because I’m mad at him. I’m still pissed about yesterday, and he’s the first one to test me.

Plus, if I’m being honest, I don’t want this thing to end with Chandler. I wouldn’t admit to anyone how much I thought about her yesterday. And how many times I had to stop myself from reaching out to her.

“Well, I’m definitely not in it for either of you fuckers,” I put my headphones back on.

He accepts that’s all he’s going to get out of me on the subject, and I’m glad the rest of the plane ride goes by without anyone else trying to piss me off.

21

Audrey and I are settled on our couch watching yet another game. The guys are playing somewhere in Canada today. I hate that I haven’t seen them in two days and I kind of miss them. I feel myself getting too attached, and I need to knock it off.

That becomes harder when any of them text me—usually Vince—and the butterflies take off in my stomach. Matt hasn’t reached out, and Brent has only sent a couple texts. I felt weird about putting them in a group chat to wish them a good game, but it also felt weird to text them all separately. This whole group thing is new to me.

I also haven’t told my best friend the new developments in this…situation, yet. While we wait for the game to start, and the announcers are talking about both teams I take the opportunity to come clean.

“Promise not to judge me if I tell you something?” I bite my thumbnail.

“I would never judge you,” she vows, and I don’t know if I believe her, but whatever.

“Not even if I tell you about what a hoe I am? Because I’m thinking you might need to call me Santa because I’m a hoe hoe hoe.” I throw a pillow over my face in embarrassment.

“I’m not following, why would you be a hoe hoe hoe?”

I move the pillow to give her a side eye. “Because I slept with three of them.”

“Three of…” She looks toward the TV where the players are taking their positions in the middle of the ice. “No fucking way!”

I throw the pillow back over my face once more.

“Who else?” she screeches.

I wince, “Who do you think?”

She looks at the TV, then back to me. “No. Way.”

I scream into the pillow, “I told you!”

She moves the pillow off me again. “You’re not a hoe hoe hoe. You just have a harem.”

I groan, “That’s not better!”

“It kind of is. So, how does McQuaid compare to the other two then?”

I wince at even the sound of his name. I know I shouldn’t have given in to him so easily in that bathroom, and I don’t know what’s suddenly wrong with me that this is my life, but here we are.

“How do you think?” I sass.

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