Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(16)

A few more people come in and sit in my section, and I have to hustle, which is good, as it doesn’t let me be obsessed with Jacob. Waitressing is hard but this is a good place to work, near to campus and home and it closes at ten, so I don’t ever have to work super late.

In a bit of a lull, I pour myself a glass of lemonade and lean against the long counter for a minute.

“Hey.”

I turn to see Jacob. Greeeeaaat. “Hi.”

Compared to his cocky assurance the other night, he now seems hesitant, hands in the pockets of his jeans, rocking back and forth on his feet, forehead wrinkled. His Bears sweatshirt hangs from his broad shoulders, the hood making him look super cute.

No. I refuse to succumb to his charm again. He’s an asshat. I keep my expression distant and wait for him to speak.

“I was surprised to see you at SAPAP last night,” he says.

“Yeah, I was surprised to see you too. Although I guess I should have known there was a chance you’d be in my group, since you’re a new student here.”

“Uh. Look. I feel like I should apologize or something.”

My eyebrows rise. “Apologize? For what?”

“Uh…Shit. There’s no good way to handle this, is there?”

“Nope. If you’re apologizing for leading me on and then rejecting me, that’s just insulting and humiliating all over again. If you’re apologizing for not being interested, ditto. If you’re apologizing for how you handled things…nope, still not good.” I shake my head. “Look, forget it, okay? I have.”

“No you haven’t. You keep giving me looks that could slice me open.”

“Phhht. You’re imagining it.” I wave a hand. “You’re not that important, hockey boy.”

Now his eyes narrow and his gorgeous lips tighten. “Fine. It’s forgotten.” He lifts his chin, and my eyes catch on that adorable cleft in the middle of it, almost like a fingerprint. It makes me want to touch my own fingertip to it…as I lean in and…

Heat rises inside me, and as our eyes meet again, those sparks that flared up the first night shimmer around us. Damn.

Friday night I was so attracted to him, and I was so surprised and happy to be feeling that way about a boy, I let it override my good sense. I’m not doing that again.

I step back abruptly and knock over a sugar container on the counter. It rolls and crashes to the black-and-white tiled floor. Everyone in the place turns to look.

Heat washes up into my face. Jacob moves to pick up the container, which didn’t break but the lid came off it and there’s sugar all over the floor.

“I better clean that up.” I take the container from him and rush away to find a broom.

He’s back in the booth with his friends when I return. One of the busboys offers to sweep up the sugar, which is good, as I have customers to look after. The hockey guys have finished their meals and I need to clear their table and get them their checks. But I’m all hot and flustered, and this isn’t how I want to be around a guy who rejected me, which annoys me even more.

Then, moments later when I turn to observe their table to see how they’re doing, there are literally five girls crowded around them. All of them have perfect wavy hair, tight jeans, and shiny lips, and they’re giggling and fluttering their eyelashes at the hockey players. I roll my eyes at them.

Finally I give them their checks and they leave. When I start clearing their table, I find a couple dollar tips and then as I remove Jacob’s plate, I find a twenty.

What. The. Fuck.

I stare at it. Rage builds in my chest, a hot pressure. My head whips around, but they are gone.

I scoop it up and shove it into my apron along with the other bills. I finish my shift on fire, whirling, serving, clearing, and cleaning, ready to stomp into that training session and stuff the twenty-dollar bill into Jacob’s mouth with my fist.

After going home to change out of my uniform, I get to the training room early enough to quickly review our materials. Soon people are entering and my nerves heighten as I check out each arrival to see if it’s Jacob.

When he walks in, his presence is like flicking a switch—everyone turns to look at him, and the air in the room becomes vibrant.

“Is that coffee?” His eyes brighten as he spots the cardboard boxes that Luda’s Deli uses for take-out coffees, and the smile he flashes as he strides across the room is brilliant.

“Here, let me pour you one.” One of the freshman girls jumps toward the box and grabs a cup.

I resist the eye roll.

“Hey, thanks.” His eyes crinkle up all attractively when he directs his smile at her. He takes the cup and turns his attention to me. His smile fades. “Hey, Skylar.”

“Hi.” I pull the twenty-dollar bill out of my pocket and edge closer to him. I shove it into his front pocket.

His eyes go wide and I realize how close I am to his groin. Now I know he dresses left, and by pushing the bill into his left pocket I am within inches of touching his junk.

I jerk my hand away and stammer, “That’s the tip you left me. I don’t know what you were thinking, but that was ridiculous.”

He blinks slowly at me. “I was thinking you deserved a tip for putting up with our assholish comments to you.”

My mouth falls open. “You weren’t *s. You think I haven’t heard worse lines than that? And your friend Hunter actually looked ashamed of himself, so I think he doesn’t quite qualify as an *.”