25. Renee

After the debacle in the pool, I have successfully avoided Weston for three days. I haven’t seen him at work or on the ice, haven’t even looked at his door.

But today, I can’t get Sutton’s unit unlocked in time before his opens and a guy who isn’t Weston walks out.

The fact that it isn’t Weston makes my movements less frantic and my breathing easier. But only a little bit.

“Hi. I’m Hunter.”

I turn to look at him. Up close, he’s damn near adorable in a boyish kind of way. He’s clean shaven, semi-dark haired, blue-eyed.

Very fresh-faced for a guy who’s on something.

Because he’s definitely on something. His pupils are dilated and he’s fidgety. I know the look. I’ve seen my mother and her friends—the “Xanax and champagne for breakfast” crowd—plenty of times to be able to spot a drug user at eighty paces.

The best move is to just not engage. So all I say is, “Renee. Nice to meet you.” I open the door and am about to walk in when he continues talking.

“I’ve heard so much about you.” He says it like he’s surprised I don’t have a pair of horns and spiked tail.

“Oh, I’ll bet.” I can only imagine the things Weston has said about me. “Word of advice? Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“I never do.” He grins and the effect turns him from boyish to bad boy. “What makes you think Weston gave you a bad review?”

If this guy isn’t a tabloid reporter, he’s missed his calling in life. I consider the question. “Well, he thinks I’m stalking him. Although I was the one on the roof first.”

Shit. I didn’t mean to mention the roof. I was supposed to be erasing it from my memory.

“Hmm. Sounds like there’s a story there. Especially since he neglected to even mention any incident on the roof. You might just have to fill me in.”

Of course Weston didn’t say anything about it. He wouldn’t want anyone to know he lowered himself from his pedestal to kiss me.

“Well, then let’s pretend I didn’t mention it, either.”

He tilts his head. “I sense tension.” He’s quite charming for being hopped up on his pharmaceutical poison of choice. “I think I might enjoy a night watching him watch you.”

“I’ll bet you would.”

He grins. “No, I’m serious. You should come over. We’re going to watch the Dodgers game tonight, drink a couple beers. Come. Join us.”

“I think I would rather rip my hair out in chunks than spend a night watching baseball with Weston fucking Scott.”

“Funny. He said the same thing about you.”

That annoys me way more than it ought to. My fist curls and if he was standing here right now, I would punch him.

Then I would probably make out with him again.

I contain multitudes, as they say.

“Oh, did he?”

I should say no. Cut my losses, minimize the humiliation of being turned down by a guy who’s probably never said no to a woman in his life by forgetting about him, by moving on.

But I can’t. I’m just not made that way. I’ve lost so much that when something real is within reach, no matter how toxic it is… I don’t want to let it go.

“Yeah. But I didn’t believe him, either.” He leans in like he’s about to either kiss me or tell me a secret. He doesn’t seem like a sneak-attack kind of makeout artist, so I tilt my head to give him better access to my ear. “Just FYI, your night out with Orion drove him insane. Like, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, for real.”

“Did it?” That’s good to know.

“Oh, yeah. I haven’t seen him get so drunk in years.” He grins mischievously like he’s doing me some sort of favor by ratting out his friend. “You really should come.”

“Why do you want your friend to be miserable?”

He laughs. “I don’t want him to be miserable. To be honest, that’s kind of his default state ever since—well, yeah, not important. But anyway, you seem like the antidote to all the stuff making him so sullen and uptight.” The laugh sobers. “I just don’t think he knows it yet.”

I weigh my options. It would be nice to have the upper hand against Weston, even if it’s only marginal. Even if it doesn’t really seem like it would tilt the scales much.

“Alright, fine. Sign me up,” I say. “I think there are some imported beers in Sutton’s refrigerator. Can I bring anything else?”

He shakes his head. “No. West keeps his fridge stocked like he’s preparing for an apocalypse. Just bring yourself and that sparkling personality.” He shoots me a wink. “I think tonight is going to be a fun one. I’m really looking forward to getting to know you, Renee. Oh, and… let’s make it a surprise, yeah? I can’t wait to see the look on that poor bastard’s face.”

Then he saunters off, whistling merrily like he’s one of Snow White’s dwarves.

The look on that poor bastard’s face. I know it’s petty, but that’s exactly what I’m hoping for. A bit of a “fuck you” to Weston after leaving me in the pool with my cheeks burning. Three days of avoiding him was okay, but you know what they say about turning the other cheek…

Revenge is way more satisfying.