There’s no way I can open this Justin door, not just because my feelings for him are non-existent, but because it would be like sticking a knife in Garrett’s chest.

“So hi,” I finish. “Yeah…I just came over to say hi.” I hold up my hot chocolate cup as if it’s somehow a part of this conversation. “I’m going inside to drink this. Good to see you.”

His annoyed voice chills my back. “What the fuck just happened?” he asks.

The guilt pricking at my stomach spurs me to turn around. “I’m sorry,” I say with a sigh. “I’m such an asshole.”

A wry smile plays on his lips. “Well, I didn’t want to say it, but…”

I walk back to him, my gloved hands still wrapped around my cup. “I never meant to lead you on,” I admit. “When I said I’d go out with you, I really wanted to at the time. I mean it.” Pain lodges in my throat. “I didn’t expect to fall for him, Justin.”

Now he just looks resigned. “Do people ever expect to fall for someone? I think it just kinda happens.”

“Yeah, I guess so. He…snuck up on me.” I meet his eyes, hoping he can see the genuine regret I’m feeling. “But I was interested in you. I never lied about that.”

“Was, huh?” He sounds sad.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m…damn it, I’m a mess, and I’m still in love with Garrett, but if you ever want to start over, as friends, I’m one hundred percent on board. We can talk Hemingway sometimes.”

Justin’s lips twitch. “How do you know I like Hemingway?”

I give him a faint smile. “Um. Well, I may have done some recon back when I had a crush on you. See? I wasn’t lying about that.”

Rather than make a cross with his hands and shout Stalker!, he chuckles softly. “Huh. I guess not. That’s good to know, at least.”

After an awkward silence, Justin shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “All right. I’m up for giving this friend thing a shot. Text me if you ever want to grab coffee sometime.”

He wanders off, and a weight lifts off my chest.

Upstairs in my dorm, I congratulate myself on a potential disaster averted and return to mulling over my mission. Allie doesn’t get back from New York until tomorrow. Stella is out of town, too. When I text Dex, he vetoes a hangout session because he’s cramming for his last exam. When I message Meg, she says she has plans with Jeremy.

Sighing, I scroll through my phone contacts until a name sparks my interest. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of making this call.

Allie’s boyfriend picks up after several rings. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey. It’s Hannah.”

“No kidding,” Sean cracks. “Your number is in my phone.”

“Oh, right.” I hesitate. “So listen, I know Allie isn’t back from her dad’s yet, but I was wondering if…” I trail off, then blurt out, “What are you doing tonight? Do you want to hang out?”

My best friend’s boyfriend falls silent. I don’t blame him. I’ve never called him to hang out without Allie before. For that matter, I’ve never called him, period.

“You realize this is weird, right?” Sean says frankly.

I sigh. “Yes.”

“What’s going on? Are you just bored or something? Or is this a fucked up hit-on-your-friend’s-boyfriend kinda thing? Wait—is Allie listening in?” Sean raises his voice. “Allie, if you’re there, I love you. I would never, ever cheat on you with your best friend.”

I snort into the phone. “She’s not on the line, dumbass, but that’s good to know. And trust me, I’m not hitting on you. I…well…I was hoping we could hang out with some of your frat brothers tonight. Maybe you could, you know, set me up with one of them.”

“Are you serious?” he exclaims. “No fucking way. You’re too good for any of those idiots, and I’m pretty sure Allie would kill me if I hooked you up with one of them. Besides…” He clams up abruptly.

“Besides what?” I demand.

He doesn’t answer.

“Finish that sentence, Sean.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I’d rather you did.” My suspicion snaps into overdrive. “Oh my God.” I gasp. “Do you know why every guy on campus is suddenly treating me like I have an STD?”

“Maybe?” he says.

“Maybe?” When he doesn’t answer, I groan in frustration. “I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what you know, I’ll—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupts. “I’ll tell you.”

And then he does.

And my response is a loud shriek of outrage.

“He did what?”

Twenty minutes later, I burst through the doors of Briar’s hockey arena. Cold air immediately slaps my cheeks, but it doesn’t succeed in cooling the fire burning inside me. It’s five-thirty, which means Garrett and the team have just finished practice, so I bypass the rink doors and march right to the locker rooms in the back of the building. I’m so pissed off that my whole body is trembling from the force of my anger.

Garrett has officially stepped over the line. No, he’s so far past the line that I can’t even see the stupid line. And there’s no way I’m letting him get away with this ludicrous, juvenile bullshit.