Page 141 of The Play

“Hockey boy?” Pippa says with a laugh.

“Yes. He’s all bruised up and sore, so he’s taking it easy at home and he’s bored. When he’s bored, he gets annoying.”

“Don’t they all?”

“Hey, I don’t annoy anyone when I’m bored,” TJ protests. He casually swirls his straw in the strawberry daiquiri we forced him to order.

Originally this was supposed to be girls only, but TJ sounded glum when he realized he couldn’t come, so I told him he could join us as long as he honored the rules of Girls’ Night. AKA ordering lots of brightly colored drinks.

“What’s going on with you guys, anyway?” he asks curiously. “It seems like it’s evolved from just hanging out…”

“Um yeah,” Pippa answers for me. “They’re frickin’ married.”

TJ looks stunned. “For real?”

A snort slips out. “No, not for real. But we do spend a lot of time together.” I pick up my obnoxiously pink drink with its gaudy purple umbrella. “I guess that means we’re dating. I’m not entirely sure, though. We haven’t even had the exclusivity talk.”

“You haven’t?” Pippa raises a brow. “It’s been months, D. What if he’s having sex with other women?”

“He’s not.”

“Of course he is,” TJ says, rolling his eyes.

I scowl at them both.

Pippa objects. “Hey, don’t look atmelike that. I didn’t say he was. That’s all this one.” She pokes TJ in the arm.

He raises both hands as if surrendering to enemy soldiers. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Of course he’s sleeping with other people. I’m telling you this as a college dude who lives in the dorms surrounded by other college dudes. If you don’t make it clear to a guy that you want to be exclusive, I guarantee he’s seeing more than one woman.”

“I mean…TJ has a point,” Pippa says slowly.

“And he was out with all those girls, like, a week ago,” TJ goes on. “He’s definitely hooking up with other people.”

A chill runs up my spine. “What girls? And how do you know what he was doing?”

“I saw something on Instagram.”

“You saw something on Instagram,” I echo uncertainly.

TJ nods. “I follow a shit ton of Briar people. Someone posted a picture of the hockey team at a party, not sure where it took place. Davenport was in the picture kissing some chick.”

Bullshit, I want to retort.

But doubt creeps into me like strands of ivy and tightens around my throat. Hunter did go to an after party last week that I didn’t attend, but that doesn’t mean anything. Moreover, we’re not even an official couple.

I bite the inside of my cheek. Hard. The pain triggered by my teeth doesn’t even compare to the shooting pain in my heart. My stomach lurches. With shaky fingers, I flip over my phone. The last text from Hunter was a kissy face.

I ignore it. Suddenly wondering how many other kissy faces he’s sending and to whom.

“I took a screenshot for you,” TJ admits, “but I deleted it.”

“What!Why?” Pippa thunders.

Misery clouds his eyes as he looks at me. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to cause trouble. I remember how much it annoyed you the last time we talked about Hunter behind his back.”

“Thomas Joseph,” Pippa snaps. “Get your phone out and recover the picture from the deleted folder. I bet it’s probably still in there.”

My heartbeat is erratic as TJ scrolls through his photo roll. I’m almost hoping he doesn’t find the picture. I don’t want it to exist. I want it to be a figment of TJ’s imagination.

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