The Shameless Hour (The Ivy Years #4)

A quick inspection of my cell phone revealed five missed calls from Bella, and a voice message. I touched play.

“Rafe,” she’d said in her message. “I need to talk to you. And I want to apologize. I didn’t… I wasn’t looking at things the same way you were. So…” I’d never heard Bella at a loss for words. “Please can I apologize? Would you stop over? Pretty please?”

I wanted to. But I hadn’t yet figured out what I would say to her. Asking a girl out was like a tough soccer practice. You had to warm up before you ran onto the field.

In the common room, I threw myself down on the sofa and tried to think what to say.

Twenty-Five

Bella

I was never meant to lead a solitary life. That much was obvious.

But there I was, bumping around my room again. After my impulsive run, I’d bought some coffee and headed back to my room, where I proceeded to brood over everything I’d done wrong.

Or I tried to. Brooding didn’t come naturally to me, and I’d swear it made my dorm room feel even smaller.

Just when I was feeling truly desperate, someone knocked on the door.

Rafe.

I sat up fast, running my fingers through my hair. Vanity didn’t come naturally to me, either, but Rafe looked delicious 24/7, and I’d humiliated myself in front of him twice already today. Also, the boy should be made to remember what he was missing.

“Just a sec!” I called out.

Looking down, I took a quick inventory. The jeans were fine, of course. But I was wearing a baggy Bruins shirt, so I whipped that over my head and tossed it on the desk chair. A pink oxford shirt I’d abandoned at some point hung on my closet door’s hook. I grabbed it, shoving my arms into the sleeves, and buttoning it up most of the way.

Perfect.

The knock came again, and my heart did an unfamiliar shimmy. I braced myself and went to the door.

It opened to reveal Graham, of all people.

“Oh,” I said, probably failing to hide my disappointment. “Hi.”

He cocked his head to the side and began to smile. I saw his gaze come to a halt on my unusually generous cleavage. “Maybe I’m not who you were expecting?”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” I argued, holding the door open for him. And that was strictly true. I hadn’t heard from Rafe since leaving him a voicemail, which he seemed to have ignored.

“Good. Because I’ve come to escort you to Capri’s.”

My stomach twisted at the idea of stepping into my favorite pizza and beer joint in the world. I practically used to live at Capri’s. That’s where the hockey team went about four nights a week to blow off steam.

But I did not. Not anymore.

“I can’t make it tonight,” I lied. “Sorry.”

Graham’s face fell. “Bella, please? Just because you don’t work for the team anymore doesn’t mean they don’t miss you. And I miss you. If I can walk in there, so can you.”

I sat down on the bed to give myself a little distance from Graham’s blue-eyed stare. It was pretty impressive that Graham often went out drinking with the hockey team. For months he and Rikker had kept their relationship a secret, and coming out of the closet had been really hard on him. He’d quit the team after his concussion, but he hadn’t quit his circle of friends. There were some curious stares last spring as everyone figured out how things were between Graham and their star right wing. But Graham pushed through all that, and kept most of his friendships on the team.

He was obviously a whole lot braver than I was.

Without another word, he came over and sat down beside me, putting an arm around my back.

Damn him. I wanted to lean against his shoulder and tell him everything in my heart, the way I used to. I still missed Graham. It wasn’t about lust anymore. I’d had enough time to realize that the sex part of our relationship hadn’t been the best part. But I still felt an ache when he was nearby. I missed his company, and I missed the idea that we were two peas in a pod. Both slightly jaded, but probably redeemable.

Fast forward one year, and Graham was having the happiest year of his life. Me? Total disaster.

“Come on, Bells.” He gave me a little squeeze. “You’re hiding in your room, because you’re embarrassed about something that you didn’t even do wrong.”

I groaned. “You’re right. It wasn’t something I did wrong. It was someone.” And then that someone let the whole world know just how stupid I really was. “I’m not ready.”

“You look ready to me,” he quipped. “Come out with me.”