Shh! (12 page)

My phone trilled again, reminding me I had an unread text. Sighing, I picked it up.

What’s for breakfast?

I hadn’t heard from him in two days and the first thing he asked about was food. I couldn’t figure this guy out. But then I hadn’t responded to his email either.

Pig snouts, lambs’ livers, and black coffee.

I grinned at my inventiveness. His response was immediate.

Not anymore. I’ll pick you up at eight.

Can’t.

Why?

I have hockey.

Until?

Until I’m done.

And after that?

Study. Like I’m trying to do now.

If you’d just say yes, I’d leave you alone.

No.

Night then.

I sighed as I typed out my last message and pushed my phone across the desk, then refreshed my email yet again. Last thing I felt like was a showdown with Ella, but this assignment needed to go. I opened my door and strode down the hall to her room. Her door was closed, which wasn’t unusual; it was often that way when she studied. I was the only one who kept my door closed all the time. Not that I ever used to. I rapped my knuckles against the wood and waited.

And waited.

I knocked again.

She wasn’t in. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the other girl since she didn’t live at Oxley. Friends with Ella, she was from one of the other dorms, and I had no way to contact her other than via email, which I’d already done at least a dozen times. Growing frustrated, I stomped back to my room and slammed the door.

Over the next hour I must have hit refresh on my email a million times. It was enough that my pointer finger started aching. I had no idea how to deal with this. I had the work I’d compiled. It was a rough draft, and I didn’t want to submit without my group’s input, but it was getting close to the submission deadline and it didn’t look as if they’d be helping.

I tried Ella’s door again and got the same result.

It was nine p.m and a lot of noise bounced off the walls of the courtyard: voices and music and laughter. I pushed my fingertips around my temples. I couldn’t wait any longer. It needed to go. I’d just have to do it without them. I opened the draft and started working to polish it up.

Another two hours and it was done. There was still no word from either of my partners and the online submission portal would close in an hour. I logged into the university intranet and took a deep breath. This was the wrong thing to do, but they’d left me with no choice.

Someone squealed in the courtyard below and I yanked my curtains closed to block out the distraction.

“Olivia!” a voice called from below, but I knew better than to respond. Especially when it was a guy. “Come down. We wanna watch you play.”

Raucous laughter followed and I took a deep breath.

Ignore it.

I attached the file and clicked submit.

“Livia!”

That sounded like Dane; he could go to hell. I wasn’t going out there. And he’d been so on and off with Savvy, if I did go down, I’d probably give him an earful. Not the best outcome for trying to fall back under the college gossip radar.

A fast rap sounded on my door. Just freaking great. That I ignored too.

The progress bar moved across the screen while the pounding on my door continued. “Olivia, I know you’re in there.”

Great. It was Christian.

“C’mon, babe, let me in.”

The bitch in me wanted to have it out with him—to yell and scream, and make him hurt for how he’d hurt me. But the tone of his voice was so pleading, so pained that I had the door open before I’d had time to rationalise.

Christian leaned again the frame, his head resting on his forearm. Eyes spidered with red, he looked like utter crap and smelled like a brewery. He was unshaven which was unusual, and unlike on Logan, it didn’t look sexy on him at all. It looked sloppy. His dark hair was just as bad, sticking up all over the place rather than in his normal neat style.

“I miss you.” He couldn’t even keep his gaze locked on my face. It kept sliding to the left. He obviously had no idea what he was saying.

My hand gripped the edge of the door tightly, holding it half closed. “I doubt that.”

“I do, Livia. I miss kissing you, touching you, the way you smell. I miss holding you all night.”

“You’re drunk, Christian. Go to bed.”

“I want to come to your bed.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

He heaved a sigh longer than I thought was possible for one single breath. “Please, babe, I love you.”

“I am not your babe, Christian, and you don’t love me.”

“I know you’re not …” His glassy eyes flicked to mine and actually held. “I screwed up.”

I tried to close the door, but he’d wedged himself in it. Christian was the last person I felt like talking to and truth be told, I wasn’t sure I could contain myself.

“Forgive me.”

“Oh-my-freaking-gosh, Christian. I’m the laughing stock of Oxley thanks to you, and you … you … want me to forgive you?” I shook my head. Unbelievable.

His fingers ran along my arm. “What you do is damn hot, Olivia.”

Rage boiled within me and I rolled my shoulder to shrug his touch off. Of all the dumb things to say, he had to go there, as if he actually believed it. “For heaven’s sake, Christian.”

Christian jerked his head back and his lips flattened.

The second he was off my door jamb, I slammed it closed. Hopefully the jerk would fall on his way down the stairs. How dare he come up here and act all flirty while he still held onto that lie?

I dropped into my chair and jammed my iPod buds into my ears before setting the volume to blaring. Drowning out the fools in the courtyard and the niggling voice in my head that was stressed about this assignment, I turned around to the computer and woke it up from hibernation.

Submission unsuccessful.

Prior submission received.

****

Benched. How a team could do that to their captain was beyond my understanding. Yet here I was, sitting on the sidelines again. And this time, from the very start of the game. Maddy had taken over my usual position, ordering me off for first half, telling everyone else where to play, and when I stood up to her the rest of the team voiced their disagreement. I was off. Apparently I was volatile, which meant I could lose us the game, and this game was important—it would be the one that put us through to the quarter finals. Whatever. They wanted to see volatile, I’d show them.

“What’s up, Butterfingers? You look angry.”

I swung around so fast the stick in my hand almost hit the fence Logan was standing behind.

“What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up for breakfast.”

“I said no.”

“Is that why you’re scowling? Good food in your belly makes everything better.”

I clenched my teeth and swung back around to watch the game. Alisha was a waste of space today; she’d overshot the ball three times, and now she’d let the redheaded Evan’s Hall girl steal it right out from under her.

Logan jumped the fence and plonked himself on the bench beside me. One of our reserves, Rovi, huffed on my other side. “Tell your boyfriend this space is reserved for the players only.”

“Not her boyfriend,” Logan said. “Right, Liv?”

Ignoring his mocking tone, I kept my eyes on the field and spun my stick on its curved head, balancing the twirling end with my fingers.

“Alisha! No! From the left … watch it. Watch it …” I yelled at my teammate, but she still missed the pass. “Damn it. I should be out there.”

Half-time came and went, and still my team wouldn’t let me on the field. Logan sat beside me the whole time, and the longer it played out the angrier I got until I jumped up, tossed my stick in my bag, and looked at Logan. “Let’s go get some food.”

A small grin graced his wind-chapped lips. The air was icy cold this morning. He jumped over the wooden fence and held his hand out. I took it and vaulted myself over to join him. His red Corolla was parked at the sports centre and even though he didn’t talk on the short walk there, I could practically feel his smile in the air. I suppose he thought he’d won. Well, it wasn’t like we could go anywhere fancy with me in my hockey clothes anyway.

He opened the passenger door and I climbed in the small car, tossing my duffle bag in the back seat as he closed the door after me. Logan slid in behind the wheel and started the engine. It choked once and didn’t turn over. With a look of sheer determination, he hit the ignition again and this time it started. His thigh flexed against those jeans I loved as he put it into reverse. He’d coupled them with a light-weight leather jacket and a t-shirt. Good lord, the guy had style.

“What happened back there?” he asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

“I’m tired of being treated like rubbish.”

“They sat you off?”

“I am the gosh darn captain. They can’t sit me off.”

Logan’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. I had no idea what was so funny.

“Whatever,” I huffed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

As the Corolla pulled out of University Drive and headed toward town, all I could think about was the game. It felt like the stupid rumour had taken over every facet of my life; from hockey to my social life, and even academically. I was stressed as all heck about the assignment not submitting on top of the missed test, and freaking Ella was still nowhere to be found.

Logan took my not wanting to talk as a precedent, and kept his mouth shut all the way through town until we were headed out the side, this time going south. I’d assumed we’d be going to one of the cafes in town, but I hoped to high hell we weren’t headed to Tamworth. It was the closest city to our university’s country town, and more than an hour’s drive away. Surely that wasn’t what he had in mind for breakfast. Just before we hit the highway though, he indicated to turn off the main road. The sign above the place he pulled into had a bunch of strawberries on it and read ‘Berry Best’

“Corny.”

“Don’t pass judgement too early.” Logan got out of the car.

After smoothing my hair back into its ponytail, I stepped out and Logan closed the door behind me. I glanced down at my shin pads, which were a little ridiculous, but Logan strode right up to the door and pulled it open. “What are you waiting for? The best pancakes in town are just inside.”

I smoothed out my shirt. “I feel underdressed.”

“It’s breakfast, Liv, you look fine. In fact, those socks? Hot damn!”

Chuckling, I swatted his arm. My blue knee-high sports socks were ugly, and we both knew it.

Logan placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me inside the quaint little cottage. It was the cutest place imaginable, country living met chic vintage style. Little wooden tables filled the room, and a glass counter played host to a multitude of pies and muffins and cakes. This didn’t look like somewhere to have breakfast; it looked like the type of place you’d come out of with eyes glazed over from a sugar coma.

We picked a table by the huge window, which with any luck should be warmed by the morning sun. It was chilly, and I hadn’t thought to bring a jacket as I’d expected to be on the field then return home while I was still warm from the game.

I picked up the menu and started reading. Logan’s eyes caught mine over the top.

“You really like hockey, huh?”

“Not that much. It’s all right though, I guess.”

He raised a brow. “You sure seemed pretty passionate back there.”

“Yeah, well … I’m the captain. Sitting on the sidelines is not where I should have been.”

“Why do you play then?”

“Huh?” It wasn’t like I was benched every week. In fact, the last two games were the only times it had happened. Ever.

“If you don’t love it, why do you play?”

I shrugged. “Same reason I play netball when it’s in season. It’s good to be involved.” I glanced down at the menu. “What about you? Any favourite sports?”

“I like watching the football.” Logan’s mouth turned up.

“Spectator, hey?”

Just then the waitress walked over, pad in hand.

“You first.” Logan nodded toward me.

My gaze slid over the menu one more time. “Can I have an English Breakfast tea and the fresh berry pancakes?”

“Thought you’d be a coffee drinker.” Logan palmed his hair back from his face.

“Not me.” I’d never drunk a cup of coffee in my life. I couldn’t even stand the smell of it. It was somehow bitter and tangy and green, all rolled into a smell strong enough to knock your socks off. Logan placed his own order, sans coffee, thank goodness.

“Let me guess,’ he said, “ you hate the stuff?”

“Even the smell’s a bit much,” I admitted.

We spent the morning talking about everything, from my lack of siblings to my not-so-ardent love of sports, and even touched on Logan’s work. He’d worked at the cafe during his freshman year, and when he came back to town the owner was happy for him to re-join the roster. I didn’t ask why he’d left, not after being fobbed off last time. He’d tell me when he was ready. The time flowed by quickly, and before I knew it the cafe had filled with people who’d come to eat lunch.

Logan reached across the table and grabbed the bill from where the waitress had placed it an hour ago. I went to take it from him, but he shook his head and approached the counter. It wasn’t right to let him pay. We were just hanging out, so when he came back, I slipped a twenty out of my purse.

“Keep your money, Butterfingers. It’s my shout.” He walked out of the cafe before I could shove the note in his hand. I’d make sure to get it next time.

Once outside, Logan gestured toward a gate. “It’s not the right season for berry picking, but let’s check it out anyway.”

“You can pick berries here? How’d I not know this place existed?”

Logan winked and tapped his nose, whatever that meant.