The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

“I think he’s back there.” Ryland points to a horseshoe-shaped booth in the back where someone has an arm raised, waving. I can’t see them, but I head that way, dragging Elle along by her arm with me. Ryland moves behind her, paving his own way with his wider body.

I’ve only been at school for a week, but in that time, Ryland and Elle have become my friends. I’m beyond shocked by how much Elle and I actually have in common, considering she probably wanted to slit my throat when she first saw me. I’m learning that’s just Elle, though. She’s like that with everyone until she gets to know you—except Ryland: she let him right on through her fortress, but I think that’s in part to him saving her that first night and the crush she has on him which she won’t admit to.

I finally break through the crowd, and sure enough, Bennett occupies the booth. I slide in beside him with Elle on my other side and Ryland beside her.

“Hey,” I say in greeting to Bennett. A glass of beer sits in front of him, half-empty.

He gives me a close-lipped smile back. “Hi.” He lifts his fingers in greeting at Elle and Ryland.

“Oh, this is my roommate Elle, and my friend Ryland,” I introduce.

“Hey, man.” Ryland holds his fist out for a bump, and Bennett reluctantly returns it, giving Ryland a disgruntled look.

“I’m a huge fan,” Elle chimes in, lighting up. Her obsession with hockey cracks me up considering her dark princess persona she insists on wearing. “That one play you did in your last game was ah-mazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re a rock star on ice.”

Bennett chuckles and lifts his glass of beer to his lips. “Thanks.” He signals for a waitress. “Order whatever you want. It’s on me,” he says.

Elle and Ryland both order beers, and I’m shocked when the waitress doesn’t card Elle. I’ve drank before, at parties, sure, but never in a bar like this. “Water for me,” I say. “And some food. What do you guys want?” I ask.

“We’ll take an order of cheesy fries and nachos,” Bennett tells her.

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” She smiles up at Bennett, and I swear she bats her long, obviously fake lashes. It shouldn’t bother me—it doesn’t bother me. Bennett’s not mine, and we barely even know each other. Women are free to check him out, and he’s allowed to return the favor. Although, at this particular moment, he’s not returning it. Instead, he’s staring at me.

“You don’t want a beer?” he asks, twirling a coaster between his fingers.

I shrug and trace my fingernail over the word DICK carved into the top of the table. People are so amusingly base. “Beer’s not my thing.”

His lips twitch. “Maybe you’d prefer one of those girly fruit drinks with the little umbrellas.”

I suppress the urge to laugh. “Yeah, that’s probably more my speed,” I agree.

Beside me, Ryland and Elle chat, and for the moment it feels like Bennett and I are alone, when in reality that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

Bennett’s brows draw together, and he seems to be mulling over what he wants to say. I don’t pester him, knowing he’ll speak when he’s ready. “You really didn’t know who I was, did you?” he asks.

“Honestly? No,” I admit. “My dad and older brother are into cars, not sports, and the only sport my little brother likes is football, so I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen any hockey games ever in my life.”

Bennett grins—I get the feeling he doesn’t smile like that very often. At least around me it seems like he’s always trying not to smile. Like he has to keep up some bravado of the big bag hockey player that’s going to hurt you. My gut tells me that’s not the real Bennett.

“We’re going to have to change that,” he says.

I raise a brow. “Oh, are we?” I emphasize the word.

He lifts his beer to his lips. “Yes, we are.”

Elle punches my arm. “I have to go pee.”

I snap my head in her direction. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Girl code,” she hisses under her breath.

I roll my eyes and glance at Bennett. “We’ll be right back.”

Ryland slides out of the booth so Elle and I can pass. She takes my hand and pulls me into the bathroom. The noise from the bar dulls and only one stall is in use so we’re relatively alone.

“I think Ryland likes me,” she states.

“You dragged me into the bathroom for this?”