Page 90 of The Chase

And this isn’t about me being a spoiled brat and needing a shiny new toy. Fitz isn’t a pair of Louboutin pumps or a Valentino clutch.

And it’s not about me wanting him simply because he’s been making me chase him.

And while it may have begun as a physical kind of wanting, that’s changed.

I think I might want more now.

Fuck.

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The game is surprisingly low scoring. We’re playing Eastwood, our conference rival, and they’re damn good at keeping the puck out of their zone. Whenever the Briar guys cross the blue line, they need to take full advantage of the opportunity, and they haven’t been doing it so far in the first two periods. Plus, Eastwood has this goon on their team that’s driving me nuts. He’s already instigated several scrums, but nothing to warrant the attention of the refs.

“Man after my own heart,” Weston cracks from behind us. He says this after the goon once again gets a few good shoves in on a Briar player before skating away.

“Figures you’d fall in love. A goon always recognizes the goon in another,” Brenna says sweetly.

Weston reaches out and ruffles her hair good-naturedly. “I wear my goon badge with pride, babe.”

On the ice, the Eastwood goon just stole the puck from Matt Anderson after slamming the defenseman against the boards. He takes possession and flies toward our net, his teammates skating fast in tow.

“Ugh! I hate this guy!” Annoyance has me jumping to my feet. “Go away!” I shout at him. “Nobody wants you here!”

Jake and Brenna snort in unison, then frown at each other as if any sort of united reaction is unacceptable.

Weston taps the back of my knee. “Hey, you know who that is, right?”

“No.” I can’t see his jersey number or his name. I just know I hate him.

“It’s Casper Cassidy. From Greenwich Prep,” he replies, naming the high school that my brother Dean attended.

I went to Greenwich for freshman year, but I transferred to Roselawn because I couldn’t handle the workload.Greenwich places a lot more importance on academics than Roselawn does. In fact, in the prep-school circuit, Roselawn has a rep for being a party school. The kids are rich enough to buy their way into college, so nobody is too concerned about getting straight As.

Despite the fact that my dad pulled strings to get me into Briar, I’m at least proud to say I was admitted to Brown all on my own. My GPA wasn’t something to write home about, but I made up for it with my extra-curriculars and community service.

“Are you kidding me?” I marvel, trying to spot the goon again. There are too many jerseys battling it out behind the net. “That’s Casper Cassidy? Did he have some sort of growth spurt? He looks enormous.”

“No, he was always that big,” Weston argues.

I twist in my seat again. “I played 7 Minutes in Heaven with him at a Greenwich party, and he fingered me in a closet. Trust me, he was not that big.”

Connelly starts to laugh. “You’re really something else, Di Laurentis. No filter whatsoever.” He tips his head. “Doesn’t embarrass you at all to admit that, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Why should she be embarrassed?” Brenna challenges. “What, you don’t think girls are allowed to hook up?”

Jake’s mouth hitches in a wry grin. “Jensen, I think no matter what I say, you’d still argue the point.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re arguing right now.”

“Because you’re annoying me.”

“What a coincidence,” he mocks. “You’re annoying me too.”

A collective gasp from the crowd interrupts their bickering. I’d turned away, so I’m not certain what happened, but I stumble to my feet when I glimpse the blood.

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