The Risk (Briar U #2)(114)

The tips of his ears turn red. He rakes both hands through his hair, and then glumly sticks out his chin. “She was growing on me,” he finally confesses.

“Ha!” I say victoriously. “I knew it. So now give her a call and tell her that.”

“No way. She dumped me.” He gazes at me in challenge. “If your little Harvard boyfriend dumped you, would you go chasing after him?”

Laughter spills out, bordering on hysterical. But I can’t stop it. I rest my head on Hollis’s shoulder and giggle uncontrollably.

“What’s going on right now?” he asks in confusion. “Are you high, Jensen?”

“No. It’s just…” I giggle some more. “He did dump me.”

Hollis straightens up in shock, bumping my head off his shoulder. His blue eyes are wide with amazement. “Are you serious? Was he high?”

“He wasn’t high, and, yes, I’m serious. He broke it off yesterday. Said he needed to focus on the tournament and his team and I was too much of a distraction, blah blah blah.”

“That’s horseshit. I always knew Harvard men were dumbasses, but this is a whole new level of dumbassery. Has he seen you? You’re the hottest girl on the planet.”

Even though the compliment is coming from Mike Hollis, I’m still genuinely flattered. “Thanks, Hollis.”

He swings his arm around me. “This just confirmed everything I already knew. Harvard sucks and Connelly sucks harder.”

“I second that,” drawls Hunter, who enters the living room with a beer in hand. He’s drinking a Founders All Day IPA—wait, why didn’t I get that option?

I wince when I notice the cast on his left wrist. At least it’s not his right one, so he still has use of his dominant hand. And his season is over, so it’s not like he’ll be missing any games. Nevertheless, the cast triggers a rush of sympathy.

“Hey,” I say carefully. “How’s the wrist?”

“What? You can’t tell?” He raises his arm. “It’s broken.” But he doesn’t sound pissed. Just resigned.

“Can I sign it?” I tease.

“Sorry, but Hollis kind of ruined that for everyone,” Hunter answers in a dry tone. He approaches the couch to give me a better view of the cast.

In a black Sharpie, someone drew a dick and balls.

I sigh. “Real mature, Hollis. Also, you used a surprising amount of detail for the balls.”

He shrugs. “Well, you know what they say.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “No, what do they say?”

Hunter settles in the armchair. “I’m also curious to know.”

“For fuck’s sake. Seriously? I don’t actually have anything to add to that,” Hollis grumbles in aggravation. “Most people don’t question you when you say, ‘You know what they say.’”

I would love to spend one day in Hollis’s brain. Just one, though. Any more than that and I’d probably get trapped in the Upside Down. “All right. You’ve dodged this enough. Why did Rupi end it?”

“Rupi ended it?” Hunter echoes. “Does that mean we don’t have to listen to you guys screaming at each other at all hours of the night anymore? Sweet!”

“Be nice, Davenport. He’s really bummed about this.”

Hunter cocks his head. “For real?”

“No,” Hollis says firmly. “Not for real. It doesn’t matter to me in the slightest.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then there’s no reason not to tell us why it ended,” I counter.

“It was stupid, okay? Doesn’t even bear repeating.”

“What did you do?” Hunter asks in amusement.

Hollis lets out a heavy breath. “She wanted to give each other nicknames and I wasn’t into it.”

Um. Okay.

I’m trying very hard not to laugh.

Hunter doesn’t try—he bursts out laughing. “What were the nicknames?”

“She didn’t actually have any. She wanted us to come up with a list and then—” Hollis is visibly clenching his teeth. “—discuss each one and say how it makes us feel.”

Hunter nods solemnly. “Of course. Because that is a thing.”

I silence him with my eyes. Hollis is being vulnerable with us right now, and he doesn’t deserve to be mocked.

Oh my God. Who am I? Is this the Upside Down? Because since when do I pass up the opportunity to mock Mike Hollis?

“Did you not like any of her ideas?” I ask carefully.

He stares at me. “I didn’t even let her start brainstorming. Who makes a list of nicknames and sits around voting on them like fucking American Idol? I told her it was crazy and that she was crazy and then I suggested that maybe her nickname should be ‘crazy’ and she lost her shit and stormed out. And then she texted me later to say she can’t be with somebody who isn’t, and I quote, all in.”

“She has a point. It’s hard to be in a relationship when both people aren’t all in.” I shrug. “Also, I don’t blame her for bailing. Who wants to be called crazy all the time? It’s bound to give someone a complex.”

“She already has a complex. It’s called insanity.”

“Hollis,” I chide.