Page 58 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
The guys start laughing. “Yeah, yeah.”
Before they can give me any more shit, Liam drops onto the bench next to me, towel draped over his shoulders, wearing that trademark scowl that usually means he’s about to say something that’ll get him in trouble.
“What are we talking about?” he asks, grabbing a water bottle.
“Cole’s love life,” Sirus says. “He’s found himself a girlfriend.”
Liam raises an eyebrow. “The girl from the double date? It’s that serious already? Damn, Cole. For a moment, I thought you didn’t have it in you. Did you fuck her yet?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He laughs like this is petty kiddish talk. “Knew it.”
I look over at Sirus who’s giving me that knowing look. Liam’s mood is radiating off him in waves.
“You’ve been fucking Trouble,” I say.
He snickers. “Yeah, but Trouble’s not girlfriend material. She’s just… hard to forget.”
Finally something vulnerable, but then he quickly reframes the narrative.
“And easy to fuck, which means she’s just like the rest of them.”
Sanderson and Cade start disagreeing about something. Cory and Peterson step in to end it before it escalates while Miller laughs. Everybody else stays out of it.
“Sounds like your type,” I say to Liam.
He glares at me like he could kill something right now.
“Am I meeting your girlfriend tonight?”
I nod. “You will, yeah.”
He hits my shoulder and leaves.
26
Unraveling
Liam
I’mstaringatHarper’smessage for the third time in twenty minutes.I heard about you at the party Saturday night, Liam. You want to keep seeing me AND other people. You weren’t exactly acting exclusive. I’m not looking to compete. I’m looking for something steady.
The words cut because they’re true. And because she’s already halfway out the door.
I lean back against the bench in the empty locker room, holding my phone like it’s evidence of my own stupidity. She knows about Saturday night. Word travels fast on this campus, and Harper’s clearly not the type of girl to let that go.
The fucked-up part? She’s right about everything, but also completely wrong.
Yeah, I made out with some girl at the party. Brunette, pretty, willing—exactly my usual type. But when she started pulling me toward the room, suggesting we find somewhere more private, I stopped. Just... stopped. Because for the first time ever, I didn’t want anyone else. I only wanted Harper.
I wanted Harper, and she wasn’t there.
So I went home alone, which is probably the most pathetic thing I’ve done all year.
The truth is, Harper’s too good for me. Not in the cliché way, but in the quiet, real way that makes my chest tight when I think about it too long. She’s thoughtful. She keeps her cards close, thinks before she speaks, doesn’t throw herself at guys who’ll only disappoint her.
And she doesn’t fight for me.
