Page 4 of The Comeback

“If you’re not down in five, I’ll be back to drag you with me. Naked or not, so you better get to it, cause I don’t feel like seeing your dick outside of the locker room.”

I shake my head at his retreating back, heading for the bathroom. Man, I’m glad I snagged the extra bedroom with the private bath after Aspen moved in with his girlfriend this year. The hot water cascading down eases the aches from practice and relaxes the tension in my shoulders. Jax is right. I’ll be fine. I got this. I just need to focus. No distractions and that includes those of the female variety.

Chapter 3

Abby

“Whatisityouhave against fun, anyway?” Ree asks.

I roll my eyes at her. “I don’t have anything against fun. But you know big, loud parties full of frat guys are not exactly my idea of fun. Hi, I’m Abby. Lovely to meet you.” She swats my offered hand away, returning the eye roll.

“Hilarious. Anyway, these aren’t frat guys. They’re hockey guys. Yum.”

The mascara wand I’m wielding slips, smearing a long black smear on my cheek. “What?”

“I said yum.” There’s a curious gleam in her golden-brown eyes.

“I mean before that.”

“Hockey guys?”

“You didn’t say anything about hockey guys. That’s way worse than frat guys. I can’t go.” I’ve avoided him for the last three years of my university career. No way am I running straight into the wolf’s den.

My roomie gives me a confused look. “I know you hate hockey, but they’re not actually going to be playing it at the party. Just a little drinking and dancing like any other party.”

I sigh. I don’t know why I’ve never told Ree about Sebastian. The jocks and the arts kids mostly exist on different planes of existence, so I’ve never really had to explain about the boy I used to know who turned into the man I can’t stand. “It’s not hockey I don’t like. It’s the hockey players. Cocky assholes. They’re so full of themselves and they’re always sleeping around.”

“Well, you don’t have to sleep with any of them. Although it might not hurt for you to get laid. Screw Connor right out of your system.” Her dark hair swishes over her shoulder at her emphatic nod.

I arch a brow at her. “Yeah, right. Sounds totally like something I would do. Again. Do you even know me at all?”

“It’s always good to try new things.” Of course. Aurelia is the queen of trying new things. She’s fierce and brave and adventurous. Sometimes I wish I could be more like her, but even being her friend has helped me overcome some of my fears, as if I absorb some of her strength just from sheer proximity.

I’m scrambling to figure out a way to get out of this party without going into an explanation of my painful high school existence but coming up sadly empty. I moved on when I came to college, and I’d like to keep the past in the past.

I finish up my makeup with a light pink gloss and grab one of the many cute floral dresses I own. Pink could be nice, but my hand settles on my favorite black one with white daisies that hits me just above the knee. It swirls around my legs when I spin. Perfect for dancing.

Lia snatches it out of my hand. “Nope,” she says, shoving a bundle of fabric into my arms. “You’re wearing this.”

I glance warily at the scrap of shiny champagne colored fabric she gave me, shaking my head. “Nope. Not happening.”

She gives me a look. “You’re wearing that. You’re getting over a breakup, so you need to wear something that’s going to make you feel like a goddess. And not just any goddess. I’m talking Aphrodite level hotness. This is it.”

I shake the pile of fabric at her and run my eyes up my friend’s body. She’s tall and leanly muscled from all her Yoga and kick boxing classes. I gesture to my shorter, much curvier self. “No way is your dress going to fit me.”

“Oh, it will. I promise. I bought the wrong size and it sort of hangs off me like I’m a dress rack. On you it’s going to be fire. Show off all your assets, if you know what I mean.” She drops an XL falsie at me in an exaggerated wink.

“Yes, I know what you mean. Couldn’t make it more obvious if you dropped the hint on me from a crane.” My bestie has many amazing qualities, subtlety not being one of them, unless, of course, she’s on stage. “Why exactly are you so hot to pimp me out tonight?”

She runs her crimson tipped fingernails down my arm. “You’ve been so sad about the douchebag. You need to get out of the funk and have some fun. I don’t like seeing my bestie sad.”

She’s good people, and I’m glad I found her. It’s amazing we even ended up friends at all, given our wildly different interests and personalities, but I guess that’s what college is all about. “Fine. I’ll try it on, but you’re responsible for any emotional trauma when it doesn’t fit.”

She stands there expectantly. I sigh. She’s not one to care about wandering around our apartment in her underwear or changing in front of me. I wish I could be as carefree as her. Maybe if I looked like her, I would be. It’s not anything she hasn’t seen before though, so I hurry to pull my clothes off and yank the stretchy fabric over my head. The spandex clings to my body.

Ree squeals, clapping her hands. “That is perfect. I told you!” She grabs my shoulders, spinning me around to face the mirror. “See.”

I was prepared to hate it, but it actually looks fantastic. The shiny fabric conforms to my curves and pushes my boobs up until they spill out of the v-neckline just enough to be sexy. She was right. I’ll never live it down. I frown at the length, though. It barely clears my butt. No wonder she can’t wear it. There would be a significant risk of a wardrobe malfunction with her extra inches.

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