Page 110 of Puck Princess

“But Spencer doesn’t know that,” I add, picking at the cheese on my board.

“Have you said anything to Owen yet?”

The brie spills out around the crackers. I’ve never been this sad while eating a cheese board before. I shake my head.

“How long are you going to wait?”

“Forever?”

“When it comes out, he’s not going to be happy. The longer you wait, the less forgiving he might be.”

She’s right, but there’s more at stake than that. Sheknowsthere’s more at stake than that.

“Kenny…” I dip my chin, looking up at her under lowered brows. “I can’t say anything. If that video leaks?—”

“I don’t care about the video.”

I gape at her, waiting for some sign that she’s joking. But she just picks up her wine and takes a long drink.

“How can you not care about that video? It shows— It’s a?—”

“Listen. Is it mortifying? Sure. Do I regret every second of it from accepting the drink to hitting the dance floor to following him home? Obviously. But if I live in fear, he wins. And living in fear is worse than picking up the shattered remnants of my reputation if the video ever leaks.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean I should do anything that would make him leak it.”

“I don’t think he’d actually go through with it. Think about it,” she says, as if I haven’t done exactly that every single day since Spencer showed me the video. “Yes, it’s me in the video, but it’s also his dick waving around on camera. Not to mention, I’m clearly drunk in that video. Some guys will high five him for it—men are disgusting that way—but a lot of people will see it for what it is. Plus, it would fuck with his dad’s reputation, too. I just can’t see it working in his favor.”

She’s not entirely wrong, but it would still be bad.

“You know how hard dating would be after something like that?”

“You say that like I’m interested in dating right now. Which, I’m not. You also say it like I’m capable of keeping a healthy relationship, which also, I’m not.” She tosses back the rest of her wine.

“That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think? Your track record isn’t that bad.”

“That’s what you think. The last guy I was with, it was like a roman candle. But instead of shooting into the sky in a lovely display of color and sparks and lights, it backfired and blew up in our faces. I am still picking ashes out of my hair. Thank you, but no thank you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you talking about Lance?”

She takes a bite of her salad.

“When are you going to tell me what happened? I amdyingover here.”

“It doesn’t matter. Lance Craven is the bane of my existence and the story isn’t even worth mentioning.” She waves it off. “What is worth mentioning is your history with the new winger on your baby daddy’s hockey team.”

“But you and Lance?—”

“Yum,” she practically shouts. “This salad is delicious.”

“You and Lance?—”

“Yum!” Her eyes pierce into my very soul. “This salad is delicious. It’s all I want to talk about.”

I sigh and pick up a cracker. “You’re annoying.”

“And you love me.”

She’s right. I do.

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