Page 16 of Don't Puck Your Best Friend’s Girl

"I'm assuming you hate cheaters," I begin, testing my theory. The conversation has to start somewhere, and if I don't start now, we'll continue to bicker nonsense.

Her silence is answer enough, her gaze boring into mine without yielding an inch.

I say, "I own what I did that night. I don't think I need to spell it out for anyone, but trust me when I tell you, I had good reasons."

"There are no good reasons to cheat," she says, the first sensible thing she's contributed to this conversation.

"Are you going to let me talk or just continue to degrade me?" The frustration in my voice is evident.

"Degrade you."

I shake my head, letting out a long sigh. This is going nowhere, but I'm committed now…for Byron's sake.

"Hannah wouldn't sleep with me. No matter how hard I tried. It didn't matter how romantic I was, the shit I would do for her. She would run away before something got too serious. Like if a moment got too intense, she would make up an excuse and bolt."

Saylor's expression doesn't change.

"So, I got really drunk one night at one of these parties." I gesture vaguely at our surroundings. "And I hooked up with someone who really wanted me, and to be honest, Saylor, it felt fucking good to be wanted."

The admission costs me something, opens a vulnerability I hadn't intended to share. But now that I've started, the words keep coming.

"You've seen me this past year. You may have not liked me because you think I'm cocky or whatever, but I own my shit. Before this thing with Hannah, I was good. I'm a good fucking person. I'm smart. I volunteer my time and shit."

Her eyes narrow slightly, and I realize I'm rambling, my defenses rising like walls with each word.

"I take accountability for how much I fucked up that night with Hannah, but you know what makes this all okay?" I pause, meeting her glare with my own. "Hannah was fucking my brother, thinking it was me. Which means she didn't even have the guts to turn on the lights or call out my name. She was with my brother while I was fucking somebody else, so it's all not that big of a deal."

A small, cruel part of me enjoys watching it register on Saylor's face –– the slight widening of her eyes, the parting of her lips as this new perspective makes its way into that tiny walnut brain.

But she recovers quickly, her expression hardening once more. "What about the fact that you're on the hockey team just to get back at your brother?"

Her words hit their mark with frightening accuracy. Heat rises to my face, anger mingling with something deeper –– shame, perhaps, at having my motives so clearly exposed.

"Do me a favor and don't fucking say that aloud again, okay?" My voice lowers, gaining an intensity that makes her blink. "I know you don't care for me, but what I'm doing here is not just to get back at my brother. I'd appreciate it if you could keep that to yourself."

I draw a steadying breath and add, "Now it's your turn to talk."

Her face transforms as unexpected laughter bubbles from her lips –– not amusement, but mockery. "It's my turn to talk?" she questions, as if the very idea is ridiculous.

I nod, waiting. There's a knock at the door as the doorknob jiggles. Without looking away from her, I shout, "Fuck off!"

Silence falls between us, heavy with unspoken words and misplaced anger. The muffled sounds of the party continue beyond the door, but in here, time seems suspended.

"Talk," I say again, my voice softer now, almost a request but more of a command.

Her eyes meet mine, and for the first time ever in my time of knowing her, I wonder what stories she's hiding behind that wall of hostility.

.

Chapter 4

Cade plants himself directly in front of the door, a human barricade between me and the rest of the world. Music filters through the cracks around the doorframe, the bass in sync with my heartbeat. The vodka cranberries have left a pleasant warmth spreading through my limbs, but not enough to soften my edges where he's concerned. Despite the alcohol's gentle haze, my disdain for him remains crystal clear.

"For one, you're right. I don't like how arrogant you are," I say, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Have you ever heard of being humble?"

He watches me, silent and still. Something about his quiet intensity makes me want to squirm, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. His amber eyes remain fixed on mine, waiting for me to continue, to fill the silence between us. It's unnerving how he can just stand there, reply nothing, and wait for me to tell him all my secrets.

"Being smart and knowing it…is ridiculous," I continue, crossing my arms over my chest again. "I think everyone should be humble."

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