Page 79 of Only Ever You

“Asher Vaughn?” I ask, anxiety building inside me.

Kylie nods.

“Do you know him?” Blake arches a brow.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. Why is the thought of my friend making me panic? I’ve spent the last three years texting with him regularly. “He’s from Santa Clara too,” I tell them. “We went to school together.”

“Then you’re definitely invited. The boy literally has zero boundaries, and everyone loves him.” Kylie giggles. “His best friend is the total opposite. Everybody likes him too, but he keeps people at arm’s length.”

Dread joins the party, mingling with my anxiety. No, please. I don’t want to hear anything about my former best friend.

“They’re the most popular guys on the hockey team. Hot, too, even in my opinion, and I’m not into boys,” Blake comments.

“Yeah, they are.” Kylie zeroes in on me, her expression calculating. “If you know Asher, does that mean you know Michael too? They grew up together, I think.”

My stomach sinks. As much as I’d prefer to never hear about him again, I’d love it even more if I never had to talk about him.

“Uh-huh.” I nod once. “But I don’t know him like I know Ash. He and I have stayed in touch since I moved to Boston when I was sixteen.”

“You mentioned your family lives in Santa Clara. Did they move back from Boston with you?” Blake asks.

“No. Actually, they stayed here when I moved. My parents are from Boston, and several relatives still live there, so when my coach moved, I followed her.” I shrug. “I lived with my grandparents for two and a half years.”

“Wow. Our mom was a wreck when each of us left for school, and we were eighteen. I can’t imagine her letting us move away before that.” Blake puts her head on her sister’s shoulder, a slow smile breaking over her lips. “Though I guess it makes sense. Your dad is an NFL legend, after all. I can imagine he’s pretty understanding about doing what you have to do to go pro.”

If they only knew how many times Dad tried to convince me to change my mind, how often he suggested I skate at an amateur level, just for the pleasure of it. Not because he didn’t believe in me, but because he missed me. He wanted to have his little girl at home.

“Yeah, he’s very understanding.” I shift, the vinyl seat squeaking beneath me. “What about your family? What do they do?”

Blake and Kylie are talking about their parents when the server delivers our food, and no one mentions Michael again.

Mentally, I congratulate myself for steering the girls toward safer topics. The last thing I want is to know more about his college life. I already know way too much, thanks to how close our families are.

Michael Thompson doesn’t belong anywhere near me.

He especially doesn’t belong in my thoughts.

He was evicted from my mind years ago, and he needs to stay that way.

Blake chatters the whole way home, going on about anime, which she was apparently researching while I was at the rink.

As much as I usually love talking about it, I’m too tired to focus on what she’s saying. It’s already ten; I haven’t been up this late in months.

My exhaustion must be the reason I didn’t notice him right away. Or maybe it’s because I didn’t expect to see him again today.

But when I do, my body locks up. My muscles tighten, and my heart gallops in my chest.

With a helmet in hand, he stalks away from a black motorcycle parked a few spots away. I slow, hoping Blake will pause too. If not, he and I will end up approaching the doors at the same time.

I keep my eyes ahead of me, willing my breathing to remain steady. But he lifts his hand to rake his fingers through his hair, and memories I carefully buried over the years assault me. The movement is familiar, but the tattoos covering his arms and his neck aren’t. The streetlights cast a dim glow over him, so I can’t make out the details, but he definitely has full sleeves.

I was impressed with myself for ignoring him so completely at the rink. But now, I’m failing at a breakneck speed, all because he still hasn’t noticed me.

Why didn’t I consider the possibility we’d live in the same dorm? Shit. He’s an athlete, just like me. It makes sense, but it’s annoying.

And this means the chances of running into him have increased greatly.

Blake is still talking, but I don’t register a single word. He looks the same, though he’s taller and bigger, I guess. His black tee stretches over his broad shoulders like a second skin, while his dark blue jeans hug his long, muscular legs and perfectly toned ass.