The Chase: Chapter 6

“So, not that I’m complaining—trust me, I’m happy not to pay for an Uber or campus taxi—but do you always pick up random chicks in parking lots?” Brenna asks cheerfully.

I snort. “No. And FYI, this isn’t a pick-up. I mean, you’re gorgeous, but I like men.”

“Ha. I like men too. And even if I did like women, you wouldn’t be my type, Malibu Barbie.”

“You’ve got the wrong coast—I’m from Greenwich, Connecticut,” I shoot back, but I’m smiling because I heard the humor in her tone. “And no, I don’t usually invite stranger danger into my life.” I decide to be honest. “I’m doing everything in my power not to go home.”

“Oooh. Intriguing. Why’s that?” Brenna shifts in the passenger seat, angling her black-clad body so she’s better able to study me. I can feel her eyes boring into the side of my head.

I keep my gaze on the road. It’s two very narrow lanes, and there’s a dusting of snow on the ground, so I’m driving carefully. I already have two fender benders on my record, both of which happened while driving in winter weather, when I didn’t give myself enough room to stop.

“I moved in a few days ago,” I tell her. “My roommates have been out of town—they went on a ski trip to Vermont or something. So I’ve had the place to myself. But they texted this morning to say they’re on their way back.” I suppress a nervous shiver. “They might even be there now.”

“So? What do we have against the roomies? Are they assholes?”

One of them is.

“It’s a long story.”

Brenna laughs. “We’re strangers who just committed to a car ride together. What else are we going to talk about, the weather? Tell me why you don’t like these chicks.”

“Dicks,” I correct.

“Huh?”

“My roommates are guys. Three guys.”

“Oh hell yes. Tell me more. Are they hot?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Very hot. But it’s a messed-up situation. I made out with one of them on New Year’s Eve.”

“And? I don’t see the problem.”

“It was a mistake.” I bite my lip. “I had a crush on one of the other two, but I overheard him talking shit about me, and I was upset, so…”

“So you revenge-kissed his roomie. Gotcha.”

There’s no judgment in her tone, but I still feel defensive. “It wasn’t a revenge kiss. It was…” I make an aggravated noise. “It was actually a very good kiss.”

“But you wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t mad at the other one.”

“Probably not,” I admit, slowing down as we approach an intersection with a red light.

“What kind of shit was he saying?” she asks curiously.

My foot shakes on the brake pedal as I relive the hurt and embarrassment of walking out of the restroom and overhearing Fitzy’s conversation with Garrett at the bar. It wasn’t being called “fluff” that upset me, so much as the fact that he was standing there listing all the reasons why he would never, ever date someone like me.

“He told his friend that I’m surface level.” My face heats up. “He thinks I’ve got zero substance, and that I’m a party girl, and he said he’d never go out with me.”

“What the fuck.” Brenna smacks her palm on her thigh. “Screw. Him.”

“Right?”

“Oh my God, and now you have to live with the creep?” Genuine sympathy rings in her voice. “That’s the worst. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it sucks. I’m…” Frustration jams in my throat like a wad of gum. “I’m mad, obviously. But I’m also super disappointed in him.”

“Jesus, you sound like my father.” She deepens her voice and mimics her dad. “I’m not mad at you, Brenna. I’m just…disappointed. Ugh. I hate that.”

“Sorry.” I giggle. “It’s true, though. I am disappointed. I thought he was a nice guy, and I liked him. I was convinced he was going to make a move on me—he was sending out vibes, you know? And I totally would’ve done more than make out with him.” I glance over sheepishly. “That’s huge for me. I don’t ever sleep with someone before I’ve been on a date with them. And even then, it’s usually several dates before I put out.”

“Prude,” she cracks.

“Hey, I might burn down sorority houses, but I’m an old-fashioned girl at heart.”

Brenna hoots in delight. “Okay—we will be circling back to that sorority-house comment, oh trust me, we fucking will. But let’s stay on the topic at hand. So you don’t typically give your flower to a boy until he proves that he’s a prince, but you would’ve gladly offered this jerk your entire lady garden. Except then he revealed his true colors and you hooked up with his friend instead.”

“Pretty much.” I flash back to the moment Hunter Davenport stopped me from leaving the bar. I’d been making my way through the crowd toward the exit. Fitzy’s comments to Garrett had been so hurtful, I was actually going to bail on New Year’s Eve. But then I bumped into Hunter, and he said something to make me laugh. I don’t even remember what it was. The next thing I knew, the countdown reached the last second, and Hunter pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

It was hot. He was a fabulous kisser and hard as a rock as he ground up against me. I can’t say I regret it, because I really did enjoy it at the time.

But at the time, I also hadn’t anticipated I’d end up living with the guy.

Dean arranged everything without consulting me first, though in all honesty there’s no scenario in which I wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to move into Dean’s old house. Not only is it a million times better than the dorms, but finding anything else in Hastings would be insanely tough. Maybe a tiny basement apartment, but even those get snatched up fast. Available housing is hard to come by in a town this small.

The only downside is that I now have to live with the guy I kissed.

And the guy who, at one point, I’d desperately wanted to kiss.

And Hollis, but he’s harmless because I haven’t kissed him nor have I ever wanted to.

Brenna looks over. “Did y’all—”

“Y’all?” I tease.

She grins. “My mother was from Georgia. ‘Y’all’ is the only piece of the South I inherited from her.”

“Was?”

The mood sobers slightly. “She passed away when I was seven.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been rough.” My life would literally be in shambles if I didn’t have my mom. She’s my rock.

“It was.” Brenna quickly switches the topic back. “Anyway. Did y’all know you’d be living together before New Year’s?”

“No way. I wouldn’t have done anything—with either one of them—if I’d known. That’s setting myself up for a whole lot of awkward. It’s already going to be an adjustment living with three boys after spending two and a half years in a sorority house full of girls.”

“Okay, but obviously the boys don’t think it’s awkward, otherwise they wouldn’t have agreed to let you move in. They all agreed to it, right?”

“Right.” Although, I’d actually only spoken to Mike Hollis, and exchanged a few texts with Hunter, who, blessedly, didn’t bring up our make-out session. “I’ve been in contact with two of them. No contact with Fitz, though.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Brenna’s head whip in my direction. “Did you say Fitz?”

Uh-oh.

Panic tugs at my stomach. Does she know him? I guess it’s not inconceivable that she might. Fitz isn’t exactly the most common of nicknames.

Luckily, I’m presented with the perfect opportunity to change the subject, because we’ve just reached Hastings’ idyllic Main Street.

“I can’t get over how cute this town is,” I chirp, avoiding Brenna’s gaze by focusing on the shops and restaurants lining the street. “Oh, cool! I didn’t know there was a movie theater.” It’s a lie. Of course I knew. It took me all of five minutes to explore Hastings and its “attractions.”

“It doesn’t offer a great selection. Only three screens.” She points to a storefront just past the town square. “I’m meeting my friends at Della’s Diner. It’s right up there.”

I haven’t been to Della’s yet, but I plan to. Apparently, it’s a ’50s-themed place where the waitresses wear old-fashioned uniforms. I heard they serve a gazillion different kinds of pie.

“The guy who was trash-talking you—his name is Fitz?”

Dammit. I was hoping I’d succeeded in distracting her. But she’s back on the scent.

“Yes,” I admit. “It’s a nickname, though.”

“Short for Fitzgerald? First name Colin?”

Shit.

I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not an ex of his or something, are you?”

“No. But we’re friends. Well, friendly. Fitzy’s a hard guy to be friends with.”

“Why’s that?”

“Mysterious, the strong, silent type, et cetera et cetera.” She pauses for a beat. “He’s also not someone I could ever see talking trash about a girl. Or anyone, for that matter.”

My jaw tightens. “I’m not making it up, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Didn’t think you were,” she says lightly. “I can spot a liar from a mile away, and you sound genuinely beat up about this. I don’t think you would’ve made out with the other one if—oh man, is Davenport the other one? Hunter Davenport, right? He’s the one you hooked up with?”

I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my life. I grit my teeth as I pull up in front of the diner, stopping at the curb without killing the engine. “Here we are.”

Brenna completely ignores the fact that we’ve arrived. It’s like she’s talking to herself. “Yeah, of course it was Hunter. I can’t see you hooking up with Hollis—he’s so annoying. He’d probably be whispering the douchiest things the whole time.”

I sigh. “So you know Hunter and Hollis too?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know all of them. My dad’s Chad Jensen.”

I blank on the name. “Who?”

“The head coach of the men’s hockey team? I’m Brenna Jensen.”

“Coach Jensen is your father?”

“Yup. He’s—” Her jaw opens in outrage. “Wait a minute—did you say they were skiing this week? Those assholes! They’re not allowed to be doing that in the middle of the season. My dad will kill them if he finds out.”

Dammit, that’s totally on me. I hadn’t expected Brenna to know who I was talking about when I mentioned the ski trip.

“He’s not going to find out,” I say firmly. “Because you’re not going to say anything.”

“I won’t,” she assures me, but her tone is absentminded. She’s busy staring at me again, this time in complete bewilderment. “I don’t get it. How on earth did a sorority girl from Brown end up moving in with three hockey players? Who, by the way, are eligible bachelors with a capital B. Every puck bunny in a fifty-mile radius is in serious pursuit of a Briar hockey player, ‘cause so many of them end up in the NHL.”

“They’re friends with my older brother. He played hockey here last year.”

“Who’s your brother?” she demands.

“Dean Heyward-Di Lau—”

“Laurentis,” she finishes with a gasp. “Oh my God, I totally see the resemblance now. You’re Dean’s sister.”

I nod uneasily. I hope to hell she’s not one of Dean’s former hook-ups. He was a major player before he fell for Allie. I don’t even want to know how many broken hearts he left in his manwhore wake.

Brenna blanches as if she’s read my mind. “Oh, no. Don’t worry. I never went out with him. I didn’t even go to Briar before this year.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. I did two years of community college in New Hampshire,” she explains. “Transferred here in September. I’m a junior, but technically a freshman since it’s my first year.” She suddenly jerks in her seat as if her purse just bit her. “Hold on. Phone’s vibrating.”

I wait impatiently as she checks her phone. I need more details from this chick—ASAP. What are the chances that of all the random strangers I could’ve offered a ride to, I picked the daughter of Fitzy’s hockey coach? And this might be her first year at Briar, but clearly she knows a lot about her father’s players, including my brother, who she hasn’t even met.

Brenna types out a quick text. “Sorry. My friends are demanding to know where I am. I should get going.”

I glare at her. “Are you for real? You can’t just drop the coach’s-daughter bomb on me and then leave. I want every last bit of information you have on these guys.”

She grins. “Well, duh. Clearly we need to hang out again. I’d invite you to have lunch with us right now, but I’m not an enabler.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to go home and face your roommates. Get the big awkward confrontation out of the way.” She plucks my phone out of its dashboard stand. “I’m texting myself from your phone so you have my number. Come to the game with me tomorrow night?”

“Game?”

“Briar’s playing Harvard. My dad expects me to be at all the home games and any away games that are within an hour’s drive of campus.”

“Seriously? What if you have other plans?”

“Then he cuts off my allowance.”

“Are you—”

“Fucking with you? Yes.” She shrugs. “If I’m busy, I don’t go. If I’m not busy, I go. He doesn’t ask much of me, and I love hockey and cute boys, so it’s not exactly a hardship on my part.”

“Good point.”

Her phone buzzes again—this time from the text she’s just sent from mine. “There. We’re in each other’s phones. We’ll start planning the wedding next week.”

I snicker.

“Thanks for the lift.” She hops out of the car and starts to close the door, but then abruptly pokes her head back in. “Hey, whose jersey should I wear tomorrow night? Fitzy’s or Davenport’s?” She blinks innocently.

With a scowl, I flip up my middle finger. “Not funny.”

“That was hilarious and you know it. See you tomorrow, crazy girl.”

I watch enviously as she dashes into the diner. I’d love to be having lunch and eating pie right now. But Brenna’s right—I can’t keep putting it off.

It’s time to go home.