He nods, and we leave Hunter at the table and make our way to the bar. We stop at the far end of it where it’s quieter, near the arched doorway leading to the restrooms.

I order two beers and hand over some cash. When I turn back, I find Garrett eyeing me.

“What?” I say awkwardly.

“What’s going on with you and Summer?”

“Nothing.” Fuck. Did I answer too fast?

“Liar. You answered way too fast.”

Goddammit.

His tone becomes cautious. “When she got handsy back there…you didn’t seem to mind.”

He’s right. I didn’t mind. The last time I saw Summer, I made a conscious effort to keep my distance. Tonight, I let her touch my arm. I shared a drink with her. Honestly, if I liked to dance, I probably would’ve let her drag me onto the floor.

“She’s… Well, she’s into me,” I say slowly.

Garrett snorts. “No shit, dude. That chick wants to ride your dick.”

“I know.” Guilt pricks my throat. I hope I haven’t been leading her on tonight. “Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I won’t go there.”

He looks startled. “Why would I be worried?” His eyebrows furrow. “Wait. You might be misunderstanding. I’m not warning you away from her. I think this is a good thing.”

A frown touches my lips. “You do?”

“Of course. I mean, one—you never hook up.”

I swallow a laugh. That’s not true at all. I get lots of action. I just don’t talk about it.

“Two—Summer’s cute. She’s fun. Easy to talk to.” He shrugs. “She could be exactly what you need. You’d have to run it by Dean first, though. He thinks she’s a brat, but he’s protective of her.”

Run it by Dean? As in, ask Dean for permission to bone down with his little sister? Garrett is frickin’ crazy if—

My thought process halts.

“You’re talking about more than a casual hook-up here,” I say.

“Well, yeah. She’s Dean’s sister. He’d kill you otherwise.”

“I’m not dating her, G.”

“Why not?” He reaches forward to grab our beers, passing one my way.

I twist off the top and take a deep gulp before answering. “Because she’s not my type. We’ve got nothing in common.”

“She likes hockey,” he points out. “That’s a start.”

“And I think it might end there,” I say dryly. “I design and review video games. I’m into art. I’m covered in ink and I binge-watch crime shows on Netflix. And she’s… I don’t even know.” I scan my brain. “She’s obsessed with shoes, according to Dean. And he insists she has a shopping problem.”

“Okay. So she’s into fashion. Some people consider that art.”

I snicker. “You’re reaching.”

“And you’re judging. She seems like a good girl, Fitz.”

“Dude, she got kicked out of Brown for partying too hard. She’s a party girl. She’s in a sorority.”

I’m on a roll now, because my dick is still semi-hard and I’m desperately grasping for reasons to not screw Summer.

“She’s…fluff,” I finish.

“Fluff.”

“Yeah, fluff.” I shrug helplessly. “You know, not serious about anything. She’s surface level.”

Garrett pauses for a long moment, searching my face.

He stares for so long that I fidget with the sleeve of my hoodie, feeling like a specimen under his microscope. I hate that intrusive sensation of eyes boring into me. It’s a scar left over from childhood, a need to blend into the background, to be unseen.

I’m two seconds from telling him to cut it out when he starts to laugh. “Oh, I get it. I was wasting my time trying to sell you on her. You were already sold.” His gray eyes light up gleefully. “You have a thing for Dean’s sister.”

“Naah,” I say, but it’s a halfhearted denial at best.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself that she’s not right for you.” He grins. “Is it working?”

I sigh in defeat. “Kind of? I mean, I’ve managed to keep my hands off her all night.”

That gets me a laugh. “Look, Colin—can I call you Colin?” His jaw drops. “I just fucking realized I’ve never called you Colin.”

Garrett literally shocks himself into silence, until I let out a growl of impatience.

“Sorry,” he says. “That just blew my mind. Anyway. Fitzy. On paper, Wellsy and I don’t seem like we’d work, right? But we do, don’t we?”

He has a point. When I first saw them together, I couldn’t make sense of it. Hannah was an artsy music major. Garrett was a smartass jock. They’re opposites in so many ways, and yet they really do click as a couple.

But Summer and I… We’re not even on the same piece of paper. From what I’ve seen and what Dean has told me, she’s drama-llama at full force, all the time. She craves the spotlight. I shy away from it. It’s bad enough that our games are televised every Friday night on the local New England network. And the major games make it to ESPN. Makes me cringe to think of strangers watching me skate and shoot and brawl on some huge screen.

“All I’m saying is, keep an open mind. Don’t fight it.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Just let it happen.”

Let it happen.

And, fuck, it absolutely could happen. All I’d have to do is smile in Summer’s direction, and she’d be in my arms. She’s been sending out interested vibes left and right. But…

I think what it boils down to is that she’s out of my league.

I play hockey. I’m fairly intelligent. I’m good-looking, if we go by my success in the chick department.

But at the end of the day, I’m that nerdy kid who would hole up in his bedroom playing video games, trying to pretend his parents weren’t fighting like cats and dogs.

In high school I had a brief moment where I tried expanding my horizons. I started hanging with a nihilistic crew who got a charge out of rebelling against any cause. But that came to an abrupt end when they got into a brawl with some kids from a neighboring school, and half the group was arrested for assault. I quickly reverted back to my loner state after that, not just to save my place on the hockey team, but to keep from giving my parents new fighting ammunition. I listened to them scream at each other for two hours about which one was to blame for me running with a “bad crowd.” It was easier just being a loner.

Needless to say, I didn’t have girls like Summer throwing themselves at me. And I didn’t party with my teammates after hockey games, so not even the puck bunnies wasted their energy on me.

In college, I’ve made more of an effort to be social, but deep down I’m still the guy who wants to remain invisible.

Summer is the most visible person I’ve ever met.

But Garrett’s right. I’m being a judgmental bastard. She might come off as a bit spoiled and superficial at times, but she deserves a chance. Everyone does.

Hannah’s already back at the table when Garrett and I return. “Cutting it close!” she scolds, pointing at the big clock. It’s two minutes to midnight.