Chapter 4 We Won 5–1

Bárbara Hendler

WE WON 5–1, completely crushing Cornell in regulation time.

Out of all the cheerleaders, I was the one who paid the most attention to the games, probably the one who actually liked the sport the most, so it was great watching the Bruins glide across the ice at home, scoring again and again.

Our pom-poms shook, our well-practiced routines kept going, and from the section of the stands where we performed during the games, every now and then I could hear a louder whistle and some ridiculous comment coming from the San Diego guys.

I was still pissed about having grabbed Nicolas Herrera’s damn pom-pom, and he seemed especially pleased with himself, waving at me all smug, like we were living some kind of romance, which would absolutely never happen. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon than spend a minute next to him.

But my bad mood wasn’t just Nicolas and his audacity. This time, he had nothing to do with it.

Declan and I had gotten back together just to break up again two days ago, which sent my mood straight to hell.

It wasn’t that bastard’s bed banging that kept me up. I had spent most of the night crying, even after everything went quiet in the dorm, doing it as quietly as I could so I wouldn’t wake my roommate, Jessica Gallagher, who was not known for having a gentle temper.

She used to be the captain of the cheerleading squad. But after a scandal involving a couple of hockey players, she was dating one, hooked up with another, who happened to be his best friend, and when everything came out, her life turned upside down, the position ended up being passed to me, since I was somehow considered the most disciplined.

She didn’t seem upset about it. Honestly, nothing seemed to shake Jessica. She always had the same unmistakable resting bitch face, so I figured that was just her normal, even if her patience was short and she could be pretty harsh.

"For God’s sake, put some ice on your eyes. It’s obvious you spent the whole night crying," she said beside me in the kitchen, grabbing ice from a cooler and dropping it into her red cup.

She was taller than me, around five-seven, slim with toned abs, tanned legs, and perfect blonde hair that shined like a mirror. It was hard to find a flaw in her, aside from how insufferable she was.

I blinked at her a few times before answering.

"How do you know I cried all night?" I asked quietly.

"Because you were sniffling the whole time, trying to hide your face in the pillow," she replied, and I swallowed hard.

She took a long sip from her drink, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

She, like me and the other girls, was wearing the cheer uniform to signal who we were and get extra attention. Not that I cared, but I wasn’t about to take it off.

"Hey, Barbie, why are you hanging out with trash?"

I looked up and saw Clint on the other side of the counter, glaring at Jessica.

The two hockey players involved in Jessica’s love triangle had been two of Elijah’s best friends before graduating and going pro.

Apparently, no one had gotten over that mess.

"What is it, Clint?" Jessica leaned over the counter, her blue eyes shining, the neckline of her uniform making her look nothing short of stunning. "Are you bitter because you never got your chance?"

"With you?" he raised an eyebrow in disgust. "Not even if you were the last woman on earth."

She smiled, straightened up, and walked toward him like a cat. She ran the tip of her white-painted nail over his shoulder while he stared straight ahead, unyielding.

"Then do what I do," she whispered near his ear, "and pretend I don’t exist."

Then she walked off, finishing half her drink in one go.

He shifted, like he was shaking off a chill.

"I hate that girl," Clint muttered through his teeth.

I grabbed a cup and poured myself a drink like Jessica had done.

"I don’t know how you manage to sleep in the same room as her. If I were you, I’d keep a knife under my pillow and snake antivenom."

I shrugged.

"She’s not that bad," I said, and he laughed.

"I can think of a thousand things better than Jessica Gallagher, and losing an arm is on the list."

I rolled my eyes and took a sip. It was too sweet and watered down.

"So dramatic," I said, and he smiled, shrugging before taking a sip of his beer. "By the way, good game. Should’ve been at least 7 if they hadn’t robbed those penalties."

"You noticed? God, that ref was a fucking thief!" Clint ran a hand through his brown hair and rubbed his face. "I wanted to shove my stick into his balls so he’d understand that was definitely a foul. Son of a bitch."

"Anyway…"

"Hi, Barbie."

Clint was interrupted by Gabe Donohue, the UCSD defenseman and my across-the-hall neighbor, who shared a room with Nicolas.

He smiled at me and slapped Clint’s shoulder before grabbing a drink.

"Frat drinks are all the same, you know? Weak and sweet. They save the vodka for the brothers. Since we’re mere mortals, I’ll bless you with a little gift."

He pulled a vodka bottle from his jacket and set it on the counter, pouring some into his UCSD-branded plastic cup.

Unlike Nicolas, Gabe was nice and funny, always pleasant, just a little clueless about things around him. Like the fact that Nicolas and I couldn’t stand each other, or at least I couldn’t stand him, while he seemed to enjoy messing with me.

"Hey, good game, man," Gabe said to Clint, pouring vodka into his cup, then turning to me. "Want some?"

I shook my head.

"I’m good, thanks."

Gabe clicked his tongue, stopping mid-pour.

"Come on, you’re not going to stay sad like yesterday and the day before, are you? That guy’s an idiot, Barbie. You deserve at least to get drunk so you don’t have to watch that shit with tears in your eyes."

Clint bumped into him, but Gabe didn’t seem to notice.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

His blue eyes widened as if he realized he’d said too much. Clint rubbed his face.

"Elijah?" I pressed.

He scratched his neck but got saved by Justice.

"Hey, Clint!" Justice approached, then paused when he saw me. "Oh, hey, Barbie. How about we go outside? Catch up a bit?"

They might be great on the ice, but subtlety wasn’t the Bruins’ strength.

"What’s going on?" I asked, walking past them toward the living room.

No one answered, which told me everything.

The room was dark except for neon lights and a disco ball flashing colors across a packed crowd of students celebrating UCLA’s win.

Then I saw it.

And it felt like the ground beneath me cracked.

In the brightest corner of the room, Declan was kissing a brunette with huge breasts, devouring her like he might swallow her whole.

Fuck.

We had broken up two days ago and he was already… even knowing how much I loved him, how hard I tried, he was with someone else right in front of me.

I didn’t let him see me. I turned around, walked back to the counter, grabbed Gabe’s bottle, and took several long gulps, the alcohol burning down my throat.

"Barb, you don’t need that," Clint said, taking the bottle and passing it away.

"He’s an asshole, okay?"

"Aren’t you supposed to defend him? He’s on your team," I snapped, pushing him away.

Tears burned in my eyes.

"Nobody likes Declan," Justice said.

"I do," I shot back, my voice breaking.

"Barbie…" Clint tried to hug me, but I stepped back.

"Don’t touch me," I said, turning to Gabe and holding out my hand. "The bottle."

"Hendler, I think—"

"The bottle, Donohue."

He sighed and handed it to me.

I grabbed it and walked outside.

I could hear them following me, but I ignored them, heading to an empty bench. People moved out of my way like I was radioactive.

"Calm down, Barb—" Clint started.

"Got it," I said, drinking again.

"I think I should take that back," Gabe said, stepping closer, but I shot him a look and he backed off.

"Fine, fine. Just don’t kill yourself, okay?"

He went back inside.

I sat there, numb from the alcohol, wanting to cry, wanting to run back to my room and sob without caring who heard.

Justice sat beside me.

"Barbara, you’re amazing. You’re nice, popular, you understand hockey, and you’re beautiful. Declan’s just a mediocre player who barely leaves the bench. He’s not worth this."

"You should’ve told me that a year ago," I said, tears filling my eyes. "Now it doesn’t matter."

He sighed.

"And honestly? He’s doing this to get a reaction from you. Maybe you should do the same."

"How?"

"Make him feel what you’re feeling. Kiss someone."

Kiss someone?

Someone he hated?

"Okay," I said suddenly. "I’ll do it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

I stood up, dizzy, but determined.

I walked back inside, my eyes immediately finding Declan.

Then I looked again… and found him.

Nicolas.

I took a deep breath, walked straight up to him, and stopped in front of his towering frame.

" Kiss me," I said.

He blinked, confused.

"What?"

"Kiss me."

He stepped back.

"I’m not kissing you. You hate me, remember?"

I swallowed. My courage was slipping… until I noticed Declan watching.

"I’ll do anything you want if you kiss me right now."

Nicolas stared at me, his eyes dropping briefly to my lips.

Then he exhaled and smiled.

"You owe me one, neighbor."

He grabbed my hand, turned me around, and pulled me up two steps of the staircase.

His hand came to my neck, he flipped his cap backward, leaned down, and pulled me close.

I grabbed his jacket as his cold lips pressed against mine, his tongue slipping in as he kissed me right there in front of everyone.