Chapter 1

Fee

“Should we place bets on how long it takes Meyers to get back here?” Gage Steele leans back until he’s balanced on the legs of his chair. He, like Mac, plays for the Tilton U hockey team.

“One of these days your balance will fail you and you’ll end up breaking the chair and your head.” Brody Stiles, his teammate and roommate, shuffles his cards around and avoids making eye contact with anyone at the table. It means he has a good hand. I know all his tells.

Gage ignores Brody. “I put twenty on twenty minutes.”

“I put twenty on less than two.” I do the wave with my eyebrows—it’s one of my many skills—then toss over my shoulder, “Mac, if you’re not back here in thirty seconds I’ll play the top card in your hand, regardless of what it is!”

“Don’t you dare!” Mac Meyers, roommate to Brody and Gage, and my secret crush, shouts.

“Then stop flirting and get your ass back in your seat and play your hand, Meyers,” Chase Lovett, boyfriend to my bestie Cammie, friend and teammate to the guys, and my current favorite of the group, adds.

Cammie rolls her eyes, Enid tries not to look at Brody—she always tries not to look at Brody—and Tally raps her nails on the table while smirking in my direction. I pretend not to notice.

“Puttin’ the Hammer down, eh, Forrest-Hammer.” Mac slides into the chair next to mine.

I immediately want to die every single death because one, that was such a dad joke, but still manages to be cute coming out of his sexy, full-lipped mouth, and two, he just last-named me. Like I’m one of his teammates. Like we’re buddies.

Because we are. Friends. Pals. Buds. It’s the worst. My ego shrivels into a sad raisin.

“Some of us want to finish the game before the next millennium is over,” Enid offers for me.

“I didn’t want to be rude.” He consults his cards. “Look at you with the queen, Fee.” He tosses a king on the table. “But I can do better.”

“And I can do even better.” Chase drops an ace.

Gage huffs. Brody frowns. Tally’s gaze catches on something behind us.

Two seconds later a girl drops into Mac’s lap.

I immediately wish that Mac was less inviting.

“Macky! I knew I’d find you playing cards!”

Mac smiles his panty-melting smile at her. “Hey, Kelsey. When did you get here?”

Ugh. He even knows her name.

“Just like, ten minutes ago. How long will you be playing cards?”

“Depends on how many interruptions there are,” Gage grumbles.

I say nothing. I wish I had the guts to drop into Mac’s lap like that. I wish more that he would pull me into his lap and keep me there, and also tell me that my crush is reciprocated.

This is how it always is with Mac. He flirts with literally everyone. It doesn’t matter who it is, or if he’s even remotely interested. Kelsey isn’t the first girl to interrupt this game, and she likely won’t be the last. I can’t even blame her for the inconvenience or the slight discomfort that comes from her using him as a chair. Because when Mac Meyers’ attention is focused on you, it makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. Like everything you have to say is the most riveting, intellectual topic and all he wants is more.

No one at the table is immune to Mac’s charms. Even Chase, Gage, and Brody succumb to his wide smile, and the dimple in his right cheek, and the smooth way he operates.

Mac ignores Gage, his warm smile still aimed at Kelsey. “Why don’t I come find you when we’re done here?”

“Sure. Cool. I’ll probably be in the living room with some of the girls from cheer.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Okay!” She kisses him on the cheek, waves to the rest of the group, and flounces off.

“Okay, where were we?” Mac consults his cards again.

I pull a tissue from my pocket and hold it out to Mac.

“What’s that for?”

His fingers brush mine, sending a jolt of warmth traveling up my arm. What would happen to my body if I actually summoned the nerve to sit in his lap? I’d probably combust. Or melt. I picture myself reduced to a puddle on the floor at his feet, the only remaining features my eyes, nose and mouth. “Kelsey left some glitter gloss on your cheek.”

“Oh, thanks.” He swipes at it, but the gloss remains. “Am I good?”

I shake my head. “It’s still there.”

“Help me out, Fee?” He bats his pretty lashes at me and angles his cheek toward me.

My nether regions get inappropriately excited. I reclaim the tissue and our fingers connect briefly again. I prepare for an onslaught as I angle his face with two fingers and rub at the spot on his cheek. I’m touching Mac and he’s letting me, but not for any of the reasons I would like. Still, I bask in the warmth of his skin, of the heady scent of his cologne, of the light stubble against my fingertips as I linger in his personal space. By the time I’m done, he has a red spot on his cheek and I’m pretty sure my whole face is the same color.

Enid, Tally, and Cammie are all smiling into their cards and the guys are all staring as I pull myself out of Mac’s orbit.

“Thanks, Fee. You’re the best.”

“No problem.” I chug my cola and hiccup when the bubbles hit too hard.

“Have you hooked up with Kelsey before?” Gage asks.

Mac gives him a look. “No, dude. We have a class together.”

“Does she sit in your lap during class?” Brody plays an ace.

Mac flips his middle finger up and blows Brody a kiss.

“It’s a legit question. I’ve never seen anyone play chair better than you,” Gage needles.

“She’s just being friendly,” Mac says defensively.

“By that logic, I should sit in your lap every time I say hi to you, Mac.” Cammie side-eyes Chase.

He stiffens beside her.

“I’m making a point.” She pats his arm.

“You could make it differently,” Chase grumbles.

“I rest my case.” Cammie grins.

Enid coughs into her drink.

Tally and Brody snicker.

“I thought you all wanted to play the game. Why are you giving me such a hard time? It’s not my fault I’m a nice guy,” Mac replies.

“You’re right,” I agree. “It’s not your fault you’re a nice guy.”

“See? Fee is on my side.” He holds out his closed fist.

I give him a bump, because I can’t leave him hanging, and he can’t know that I’m crying on the inside.

“She’s also looking at your cards,” Gage offers.

Mac folds his hands protectively around them and tsks. “Bad girl.”

The table goes silent for a beat until Cammie cough-chokes on her drink.

I’ll be your bad girl any time I think, but don’t say. 

The thing about Mac is that no girl has ever confirmed sleeping with him or doing anything beyond kissing. Anyone he’s ever dated—however briefly—has remained suspiciously quiet about what does or doesn’t happen behind closed doors.

Which obviously just adds to the mystery that is Mac Meyers. Tilton Hockey star. Epically hot, and literally the nicest guy I know. It’s better that we’re buds. I have no interest (mostly) in dating someone inside my friend group. Besides, he’s in his final year and I’m in my third. It’s a terrible idea to get involved, especially with someone who might end up on the other side of the country next year if he secures a pro hockey contract, or even if he plays for a farm team.

Chase and Cammie might be couple goals, but the chance that more than one of us in our friend group could end up in a lasting relationship is tragically low. Better to stay friends than make things awkward when someone decides it’s not the right fit.

Half an hour and two more interruptions later, we end the game. I have an early class and can’t afford to be tired. I excuse myself to the bathroom before we leave, and when I come back, Mac’s hands are on his hips and his dimple is tucked away behind a frown.

“What’s going on?”

“My hoodie is gone!”

“You were literally just wearing it.” I would’ve noticed if he wasn’t because his forearms are an absolute delight.

“I hung it on the newel post. I was going to take it to my room after I said bye to you guys.” He motions to the empty post with both hands. “But it vanished.”

“That’s like what, the fifth one?” Brody’s lip twitches.

The sixth. At least that I know of.

“I don’t know, but that one was my favorite!”

“That’s what you get for being everyone’s number-one fantasy,” Chase teases.

“It’s not funny, man. I love that hoodie. I’ve had it since high school. It’s irreplaceable.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Mac.” I mean it, too. I would hate to lose my favorite hoodie. My parents bought us all matching ones on our last vacation together. I try to only wear it at home, and only once a week to preserve it. I’ve already had to perform light surgery on the right cuff. Callie’s grown out of hers, so she has our mom’s now, and I have our dad’s. For a while they smelled like them, but that’s faded, and now they’re just a reminder of what we had and lost.

“It’s not your fault.” He reaches for me and I brace for impact.

This is my favorite part of the night. Mac is a great hugger. His arms circle my waist and mine link behind his neck. He lifts me off my feet. I can’t help it; I giggle and then he squeezes and it turns into a wheeze reminiscent to a squeaky toy. I huff his aftershave for a second and imagine what it would be like if he didn’t let me go. If he held me like this all night long, preferably shirtless.

And then he sets me back on my feet and pats my back, not quite like I’m one of his bros, but still. Then he hugs Enid, and Cammie, and chest bumps Chase, so the special feeling melts away like a snowfall in April.

I remind myself that it’s better this way. I’d rather have a solid friend group than a boyfriend who could break my heart.

Chapter 2

Fee

I glance over my shoulder, making sure I’m alone before I slide the printout from my portfolio bag and quickly tack it up between two large posters advertising the spring dance showcase and this semester’s production. Sometimes my prints stay up for only a day, sometimes a week or two. Eventually the proud thief will tag me on my socials, showing off the thoughtful placement in their dorm or apartment bedroom. The stickers I leave in secretive places, like the gender-neutral bathroom before a busy lecture. Those end up on binders and tablets and laptop covers.

It’s my little rebellion. The art I produce outside of the classroom is different. It is raw and emotional. It’s where I put all the feelings I don’t want my classmates to see. The little pieces of darkness that still live inside my heart after my parents died need a canvas, and a voice, and this feels safe.

I make a right down the next hall and duck into the women’s bathroom. Three stalls line one wall. I slip into the far empty one and add a new sticker to the underside of the purse holder, beside two others from previous months. I bite my lip as I read the comments around my lunar cycle collection. Last month I illustrated a rainbow-haired girl lying on her bed, cat functioning as a heating pad on her tummy, the comforter pattern swirling blue and red beneath her, and a maxi pad functioning as a sleep mask. The new one features a quarter moon with his eye cracked as an angsty teen pulls on his nightcap, her skirt made of rose petals dripping blood. Praise surrounds the previous months in shouty caps, hearts and exclamation marks.

I bet this is how Cammie feels when she posts a new fanfic chapter. Putting my art up anonymously, especially where I’m not supposed to, gives me a thrill. It’s my private signature, and no one can connect this version of me with the sister of one of the Terror coaches, Toronto’s professional hockey team.

I tack up three more posters, different from the bathroom art. These ones are comic book inspired; this month’s scene depicts a girl pining over a guy who never notices her, and the girl never notices the guy who isn’t her fixation, pining over her. Like the lunar cycle, this one is a series, too. Task finished, I slip out the back door of the drama building and head for the dining hall, where I’m meeting Cammie for dinner.

My heart does a pirouette and a stag leap when I spot her sitting with Mac at one of the many tables. He’s an unexpected and pleasant surprise.

I carry my tray over and take the seat next to Cammie, across from Mac. “How’s it going?”

Mac opens his mouth, but before he can speak, a girl plops down beside him. “Hey, Mac!” She turns to us. “Hi! I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Mac says smoothly.

I smile and pop a bite of my chicken pot pie in my mouth. Cammie gives the girl two thumbs-up.

She returns her attention to Mac. “Are you going to that big hockey gala thing?”

“Uh, yeah, probably.” Mac pokes at his bacon mac and cheese, eyeing it with the same longing that takes over my insides whenever I steal glances at him. My pining series might be slightly true to life.

“Do you have a date yet? My friend Chrissy is going with Lloyd. He just asked her yesterday. I’d really love to go. I hear it’s a lot of fun.” She bats her lashes and flips her hair over her shoulder.

It’s a smart strategy on her part. My stomach knots as we both wait for Mac’s reply. I shove the sharp jealousy down. Crushing on a guy in my friend group is a two thumbs-down situation. But Mac graduates at the end of the semester, and opportunity feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.

“Cool, cool. Lloyd’s a good guy. I haven’t made any decisions yet. But I’ll keep you in mind.” Mac winks.

The girl’s face lights up like a pinball machine. “Great!” She throws her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. “I’ll see you at the game this weekend!”

“Sounds good.”

She flits off all smiles, with a bounce in her step and a shimmy in her hips.

Before Mac can take a bite of his meal, another girl comes over and asks the same question. As soon as she leaves, it happens again.

“You should probably just order salad, so you don’t have to worry about your food getting cold,” I say as he shoves a bite of tepid mac and cheese into his mouth and chews furiously.

He manages one more mouthful as girl four approaches. Mac adopts his megawatt smile while still chewing.

I jump in while his mouth is full. “The guy really needs to eat. He burns thousands of calories a day and he’s barely had a chance to touch his meal. Give the poor guy five minutes to nourish himself before you shoot your shot.”

Cammie bites her lips together, presumably to stifle her laugh.

Mac’s eyes go wide.

The girl’s face turns red. “I’m so sorry. I just…I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”

I smile and aim for friendly and sincere. “Thanks. We don’t want him to end up with indigestion from shoveling it in too fast. It could affect his game.”

“Oh God. Of course not.” She flounces back to her table, glancing over her shoulder a couple of times.

“I bow to you,” Cammie says.

“You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.” Mac forks more mac and cheese into his mouth.

“You should keep eating, because I can only deflect so many girls before your magnetic allure attracts another one.” I motion to him with my fork.

“You’re right.” Mac assumes the feed-the-beast position. He curves one hand protectively around his plate, leans in so his face is only inches from his food, and barely takes a breath between bites. He looks a little feral and I like it. I’d eat like that too if I was interrupted ten times a meal.

“Do you have someone in mind for the hockey gala?” Cammie asks Mac, sort of innocently, sort of not.

She knows I think Mac is hot with his red hair, freckles and enticing dimple, but so does everyone else on campus, so I’m no snowflake.

Mac shrugs. “It’s a lot to take someone to those events, you know? Like so much pressure. I have to make sure they feel included, and that they mesh with my friends and their girlfriends.”

I tip my head. “Then why do you tell them you’ll keep them in mind?”

He swallows his bite before he answers. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

“But you’re giving them false hope.”

“I mean…I might ask someone, maybe,” he hedges.

I let it go. Whatever his reason for making every single girl who talks to him feel like he’ll actually ask her out isn’t my problem. “What are you two up to later?” I motion between them with my fork. “I have an assignment for social psych, and Gage said he’d pop by with notes from when he took it.”

Mac’s eyebrows lift and then drop. “Why is Gage offering you his notes?”

“Because he’s a friend.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course.” His eyebrows separate for a moment before returning to their furrow. “But do you trust Gage’s notes?”

“There was a girl in his class who had a crush on him and she had nineties and always let him copy hers, otherwise I would pass,” I explain.

“Chase and I can make it,” Cammie says.

“I can also make it,” Mac adds. “I have notes from that class, too, and I finished with an eighty-six.”

“I’m more than happy to take your notes, if you’re willing to share them.” Mac’s notes might smell like him or his room. I could study and sniff him without it being weird. “Want to meet around nine at my apartment building?”

“Sounds good,” they agree.

Another girl gets sucked into Mac’s orbit, but at least he’s mostly done with his meal this time.

Chapter 3

Mac

“This is literally the worst place in the world to study,” I mutter.

“Seriously,” Fee agrees.

Fee suggested we go up to her apartment that she shares with Tally when we first arrived. It would be my preference because her space would smell like her and not burnt cheese, but Gage is Gage-ing hard. A girl in Fee’s apartment-style residence that he’s digging on passed us on the way in, so instead of going somewhere practical, where we can hear ourselves think, we’re sitting in the common room on Fee and Cammie’s floor, accomplishing nothing.

At least the view across from me is great, but I’ve barely made a dent in my assignment. 

“I’m working up the nerve to talk to her. I need my wing-people.” Gage is doing a terrible job of being discreet with the way he keeps checking out the girl sitting two tables over with her friends.

Unfortunately, she keeps looking over here, but not at Gage.

“Just bite the bullet and ask her out so we can relocate somewhere more reasonable for studying.” Fee tugs on the end of her blond ponytail. She has bright blue paint caked under her nails, and a few dots of hot pink on the back of her hand. It’s cute.

Lately I’ve noticed that Fee tugs her ponytail often when girls interrupt our conversations, so I guess it’s tied to frustration. Which is understandable. We rarely, if ever, make it through an evening or event without several interruptions. But it’s ramped up with the impending hockey gala. There’s one person I’d like to ask, and she’s currently sitting across from me, looking slightly annoyed.

“I can’t rush this. I’m feeling the situation out,” Gage explains. “Maybe I should invite her to our game this weekend against Guelph. That could be a good litmus test.”

“But you won’t get to spend any time with her,” Fee argues.

“But she gets to show her support and watch me play,” Gage reasons.

“Right, because that’s supposed to be an honor,” Fee replies cheekily.

Fee isn’t like the other starry-eyed girls at Tilton. Her sister is the assistant coach for the Terror. She knows hockey, hell, she even knows the guys on the team. She went to Tristan Stiles’ engagement party and his wedding in Aruba. Roman Forrest-Hammer, formerly Hammerstein, the legendary goalie, is married to her sister. Fee could not be less impressed by Tilton hockey players if she tried. It’s actually refreshing. And another reason I’ve kept my crush on her a secret. I never want to be the kind of guy who uses my friends for their connections, and I’ve seen enough guys flirt with Fee for the wrong reasons. I won’t be one of them.

Gage frowns. “I don’t want to date a girl who doesn’t appreciate my future career aspirations.”

“Fair. But is it less about that, and more about her watching you dominate on the ice, swooning over you, and the opportunity for you to get naked and horizontal with her later?” Fee asks.

Gage either misses her sarcasm or is too focused on defending his position. “I mean, we might not get naked on the first date, just depends on how we’re vibing. But it’s more likely to happen if we win the game because I’ll be riding the high.”

I don’t know how Gage does it, jumping from girl to girl. It must be exhausting.

Fee seems exasperated by his explanation.

“I really hope I can get it together before we play Guelph,” I blurt. I’ve been wickedly off my game the past couple of weeks. Chase is having a killer season and so are Gage and Brody—the latter was born ready for the pros—but I’m over here fumbling pucks and taking bad shots.

Gage brushes it off. “You’ll be fine, bro. Performance only matters on game day.”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine,” I agree, not because I believe it, but thinking about this makes me sweat, and I don’t want to have a panic attack in the middle of the common room, and especially not in front of Fee.

A girl sashays over, wearing a bright smile. “Hey, Mac! Hey, Gage! Hi, Fee and Cammie!”

Gage waves.

“Hey, Laura, how’s it going?” Fee’s smile is a little tight.

“Good! You?” She doesn’t wait for Fee’s reply before she turns back to me. “So, Mac, the hockey gala sounds like so much fun, am I right?”

Fee exhales loudly and settles her soft, warm hand gently on my bare forearm.

Fee is touching me on purpose.

Her hand is on my arm.

My brain fritzes out at the unexpected contact. I look from her delicate hand with the evidence of her major tucked under the nails, still wrapped around my forearm, to Fee’s pretty face, but she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at Laura.

Which means I can stare at Fee’s perfect profile. She has a tiny dot of pink paint near her earlobe. I have the unfathomable urge to lean in and kiss the spot. But Fee doesn’t like me like that.

She smiles placidly up at Laura. “I know everyone is so excited about the hockey gala, but do you think you can let my boyfriend study?”

I’m pretty sure I’m on drugs, because Fee just called me her boyfriend. And she’s still touching me. I never want this moment to end, even if it’s caused by an accidental hallucinogenic.

“Oh! Oh my God.” Laura raises both of her hands and backs up a step.

I drag my gaze away from Fee, processing Laura’s shock and mortification.

“I didn’t realize. I thought you were just friends. I’m so sorry.” Her face flushes, and she rushes out of the commons.

“Dude!” Gage slaps the table, expression gleeful. “I have been waiting for this! How long has it been going on? I thought I caught a vibe. I should have put bets on this with Brodes.”

“What?” I ask, shocked. I haven’t told anyone about my crush on Fee. How the fuck does Gage know?

Fee holds up her hand, which sadly means she severs the contact with my arm. I immediately feel bereft.

“Calm down, Gage.” She motions between us and drops her voice. “We are not a thing, but none of us are getting any work done in here and someone is hitting on Mac every four fucking seconds, so I’m just trying to make our lives easier and slightly less frustrating. And if Mac is taken, then maybe someone will hit on you instead.”

Gage’s eyes light up. “That’s actually super smart.”

Fee rolls her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I desperately want to turn this fiction into reality.