Page 34 of Taking Sides

She lets out one of her signature small laughs, but I’m not even close to kidding. Saying it was the best sex of my life isn’t the compliment I wish it was, but fuck, how is anything going to compare?

“Be right back,” she says, disappearing into what I think is an attached bathroom.

Whitney returns as I’m buttoning my jeans. She’s dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail, smiling right at me. I don’t know what the protocol here is. I didn’t ask her out thinking this is how the night would end, but now I don’t know where to go from here.

One thing is bothering me though.

“Why don’t you date hockey players?” I ask as I pick up my shirt from the floor.

“Oh. That.” She glances away, then back at me. “It started when I was a kid. The boys on my team didn’t take me seriously if they thought of me as a potential girlfriend, you know?”

I don’t, but I can imagine.

“And now?”

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to remember right now.” Her stare drops to my chest, and she grins. Whitney leans against the doorjamb and then lifts a hand to hide a small yawn. “Sorry. Long week.”

“It’s okay. I should get going anyway. We have a string of away games this week.” I pull my shirt over my head. “But I’d love to see you again if the no hockey player ban is over.”

“Maybe.”

It isn’t a yes, but I’ll take it. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” She nods, smile lifting higher, then pushes off the doorway. I follow her out of the bedroom. My steps slow when I spot a framed jersey hanging in the hallway. But when I get a clearer look at it, my feet won’t move.

“You really are a Houston fan,” I say suddenly, remembering that Grady had mentioned it during the camp. I waved it off then.

“Yep. All my life.” She glances at the jersey and then keeps walking.

I still don’t move. I can’t. Something unsettling drops like a pit in my stomach.

“And you’re a fan of Victor Aven?” Of all the guys to like she has Victor fucking Aven’s jersey hanging in her house? It seems so unlikely. Why him? Anyone but him.

“I take it you aren’t,” she says—less of a question than a statement.

“I don’t want to ruin the illusion you have of the guy, but he’s a total asshole.”

I don’t enjoy being the one to tell her, but if she follows hockey news at all she’d have to know that he’s widely regarded as the most unlikable player. Everyone hates him. But especially me. I’ve known jerks like Victor my whole life. Arrogant and snide, cutting other players down to make themselves look better. Bullies. Unfortunately, they don’t go away after high school.

If she’s at all surprised by this news, she doesn’t show it. Whitney looks to the jersey and holds for a moment before her stare comes back to me. “I know what people think about him.”

“But you’re still a fan?”

She confirms with a nod. “Since we were kids.”

My brows pull together as I struggle to decipher her meaning. Victor’s only a couple years older than me. How is it possible that she’s been following him that long?

She lets out a breath. “He’s my brother.”

NINE

The last bell of the day rings as I’m finishing up my example, calculating the surface area of a cube on the white board. The class shuffles, putting away notebooks and standing—all eager to leave.

“Don’t forget to turn in your homework online before the end of the day,” I say as they rush to the door. “And our unit five test is next Wednesday.”

I get a few murmurs of acknowledgment, but I’m mostly shouting at their retreating bodies as they file out into the hallway.

I clean off the board, and when I turn around the only student left is Landon. He shuffles slowly toward the front.