23. BROOKLYN

CHAPTER 23

brOOKLYN

T hank goodness I have an uncanny talent for switching my brain off when I'm not playing hockey. Otherwise, I'd go full caveman in front of the entire classroom.

The thing is, Olivia looks steaming freaking hot today. She's in a white, long-sleeved blouse that doesn't even have a big cleavage and isn't particularly clingy, and the world's most boring, wide-legged black trousers. But the whole thing emphasizes her unreal hourglass shape, and more than one guy is noticing. I know exactly what the asshole in the front row is thinking by the areas where his eyes seem to focus.

Somehow, I manage to parrot my lines convincingly enough. "Espero comenzar mi carrera en la NHL dentro de dos a?os," I say, forcing my eyes to stay on one of our group partners.

She nods as if all of this was brand new information. "Suena muy interesante. ?Cuál es la parte que más te emociona de convertirte en un jugador profesional?" She trips on the last few words, just like I want to trip that dipshit over there who's salivating over Liv's ass.

Yeah, she has a superb ass. But it's not his to look at .

Brain off, autopilot on , I tell myself.

Releasing a deep breath, I say, "Lo que más me emociona es formar parte del mismo equipo con mi amiga, Olivia."

Very rehearsed, the other group mate asks, "?Cómo es eso posible?"

"Es que mi sue?o es ser la nutricionista de su equipo," says Liv. Her voice transforms when she speaks the language of her parents. It seems a little deeper, smoother. I wonder what it sounds like when she uses it to say dirty things, and not lies about how she dreams about being my team's nutritionist just so we could have a conversation pinging back and forth among the four of us.

Damn it, if I catch one more horny animal looking at her like she's meat, I'm going to flip a switch back on.

It was so much easier back in high school. None of the guys dared to even look her way because they knew I was her best friend. If they tried anything funny, I had the body mass and disposition to turn their faces into pulp. But here? I have no stake on her. I'm just a classmate. And Trent's little comment was kind of true. I have to stay in perfect behavior so I don't jeopardize my path to the pros. Being drafted doesn't mean I'm set.

"Thank you, group three," the lecturer says once we've finally finished the whole spiel. "Up next?—"

I stop listening after that. I blame my turned off brain for putting my hand on the small of Liv's back as we make our way back up to our seats. She gives me a puzzled look over her shoulder, but I don't drop my hand until we sit back down. The biggest offender, all the way down at the front, makes sure to give me a glare loaded with screw-you energy before turning back out front.

"It's over." Liv sighs and sags on her seat.

I nudge her shoulder with mine. "You were amazing, Miss Spanish-is-actually-not-my-mother-tongue. "

She snorts and whispers back. "Thanks, Mr. I-studied-more-Spanish-than-the-one-who-is-supposed-to-be-a-native-speaker."

"Wow, I have such a long name."

The upwards curl of her lips wedges itself right in between my ribs, until it finds the fleshy part of my heart that I normally only exercise on the ice.

I finally understand how I've been lying to myself all along. My heart was only dormant because I just didn't understand who it belonged to.

Now, how do I tell her this in a way that won't send her packing?

I drum my fingers on the table as I watch her profile. Unlike me, she's trying to pay attention to the next group. They could be talking about how their dream is turning lead into gold and leaves into money, but I couldn't care less. I'm trying to determine if Liv's lips are a few shades darker because she bit them or because of lipstick.

"Did you put on makeup today?" I ask her with my lowest voice. She's right beside me, our legs flush together, so she hears me clearly.

She turns to me. "Yeah. Why?"

"Lipstick too?"

"Yes?"

Ah, so that means I can't kiss her right this second. Even though that's too bad, because her lips look so thick and soft.

"Hmm, looks good. But you always look good anyway."

My attention shifts down as her throat works with a heavy swallow. Liv turns back to the front. "Thanks, I think so too," she returns all sassy.

I bite my lip. Brain's still off, though, because I twist myself enough to release my arm and put it on the back of her seat. Now even closer, I whisper into her ear, "I'm curious about something. Are you the kind of girl who puts on her makeup before or after her clothes?"

Her breath hitches. The skin of her neck breaks into goosebumps right where my breath hits it.

Slowly, Liv turns to me. Our noses brush and now I'm the one catching my breath as she lifts her eyes to mine. "Before," is all she says. Then she leans all the way away, resting her elbows on the table to prop herself forward like she's riveted by the presentation.

My jaw hangs.

It's been almost three weeks since the accident at the Bulldog's game, which means I have a scab that now allows me to have facial expressions again. Whole lot of good it's doing to me, when now I can picture Liv in her underwear as she leans closer to a mirror to put on her makeup. Or naked. What if that's how she does it?

My knee bumps hard under the table. Heads turn my way and I hide half of my face behind my hand. And it's a good thing, because with how hot my cheeks are, I know I'm red like a stoplight. It's the curse of being such a blondie.

That's when I catch our two other group mates on Liv's other side, watching me like they're this close to cackling like hyenas. Even if they didn't hear the exchange clearly, there's no doubt they know my mind is firmly in the gutter.

That's where it stays the rest of the class until at the end, the lecturer drops a bomb. "Now, for the second half of the semester we're going to work on a similar exercise. For that, you're going to form new groups."

Liv and I exchange a glance. I'm glad she's as distraught as I am.

"Pairs, actually," the lecturer continues saying, "so that this time the conversations are deeper."

Someone at the front raises a hand. "Question. Can it be with someone from the previous group? "

The lecturer sighs, either tired or bored out of his mind. "Sure. But I have the scripts from today's presentations, so if you talk about the same topics, I'll flunk you."

Some guy two rows under ours turns to Liv. Before he can open his pie hole, I slide my arm around her shoulders. "Tag, you're it."

Liv's eyebrows arch in a haughty way. "Fine, at least I know you're not a slacker."

"So you guys will pair up?" Emily asks us, blinking in a weird way. Is she okay?

"Um, yeah. I guess." Liv's voice darkens.

"Good luck, then." Alyssa winks at Liv, and this makes her grow stiff as a plank.

"What's that about?" I ask.

Liv swivels a murderous look at me. "Nothing. Can you get your tree trunk of an arm off my chair?"

"But it's more comfortable this way."

Pursing her lips, she reaches over behind her and lifts my arm up. I let her, but then leave my arm all over her space on purpose. When class ends, she jumps to her feet in an attempt to leave faster. Except our now former group mates take their sweet ass time, and I have no motivation to get out of Liv's way.

I chuckle behind her after we've left the classroom and she's still stomping her feet. "What's got you hot and bothered, Aceituna?"

She grinds to a halt. "I am not hot. In case your eyes are failing you, I'm wrapped up from head to toe and I'm breathing little clouds." This is true, basically only the top of her head pokes over a thick black scarf.

I jam my hands in the pockets of the Tom Ford coat I paired with my suit for today's presentation. "Fine, why are you so annoyed, then? "

"Because—" She stops herself by gritting her teeth. "Nothing."

"Would you look at that? I can feel my curiosity growing by the second."

Liv resumes walking. The strap of her bag slides down her shoulder, but she's wearing so many thick layers that she can't pull it up on her own. I push her struggling hand away and lift the strap back to her shoulder. I catch myself right before leaning down to kiss the wrinkle off her forehead.

"Thanks… giving," I blurt out instead, grasping at straws.

"What about it?"

"Bye guys!" The girls who were our group mates walk around us with their third friend. I wave at them and as they turn away, I let that same hand travel through my hair.

Liv's attention is pulled by a lock of hair that's now fallen on my forehead, and I leave it there. "So, I was wondering what you're doing this Thanksgiving." I was wondering no such thing, but now I'm thankful for my brain coming up with that random topic change because I legitimately want to know.

"Well, the usual. The prodigal daughter and son are coming home with their spouses, so it's going to be the same big mess of every year." She looks down at the opening between my coat. "And you?"

"The usual too. A miserable dinner at my father's."

Liv bites that lower lip I desperately wish to be biting for her instead. "Would you… like to come over? I mean, since we're on speaking terms now, and all."

My eyebrows rise. "You mean, since we have resumed our best-friendship?"

"Sure."

My cheek twitches. Is this a good thing? Being her best friend again? Or is this a deeper level in the friendzone?

But she wouldn't have admitted to putting on her makeup while semi- or fully-naked before, so I'm confused. Like, any allusion to nudity was strictly off bounds before the Dark Age.

The only thing I know for sure, is that I can't be apart from her for a second longer. The rest I'll have to take as it comes. Thus, I say, "Yes, I'd love to come over again."

Her expression softens. "For old time's sake, right?"

No, for new time's sake. Hopefully, by next year's Thanksgiving I won't be her best friend, but her boyfriend.