Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,66

hoodie. There was no shame in wearing my sister’s socks and underwear, because I sure as hell wasn’t wearing my dirty ones.

After brushing my teeth, throwing my hair up in a ponytail, and making the bed, I left the room.

“Ready?” I asked as I went into the living room. She was sitting on the couch looking at her phone. A worried frown creased her brow.

“Is everything okay?” I asked before I dropped to the couch to slip on the Chucks I’d worn to school for casual Friday.

“Did you block Cameron?”

My heart stuttered at the mention of his name. “I did. Why?”

“Dmitry messaged me. He said Cameron is fucked-up.”

“Fucked-up how?” I cursed myself for asking and caring. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it. Let’s go eat.”

She started to say something, and I held up a hand. “No. Are you driving or am I?”

Wisely, she chose to snap her mouth shut. “I’ll drive. I need to get gas,” she said and stood. She dropped her phone in her purse with a sigh, then put it on her shoulder.

We got in her car, and as she prepared to back out of the driveway, I asked her, “Do you think you’re sober enough to drive? We drank a lot last night.”

It was possible we were still pretty high on the blood alcohol chart. We must’ve drunk an ungodly amount.

With a chuckle, she put the car in gear. “I’m good. We’re both good.”

After stopping for gas, we decided on our favorite wing place. It was a stretch from her house, but we both agreed we had nothing pressing. My stomach was growling by the time we arrived.

“Damn, it’s already five o’clock,” I said in surprise as we were seated at a table. The waitress brought our drinks, and we placed our order. A comfortable silence ensued as we sipped our drinks and played the trivia game that ran on several of their many TVs.

Suddenly, Crimson choked, and I looked at her wide-eyed. “You going to be okay?”

She waved her hands in her face and pointed at the TV behind me. Craning my neck, I saw the hockey game was on. I let loose with a regretful groan. Then I saw the closed-captioned words at the bottom of the screen as the object of my broken heart skated into the penalty box with a scowl.

Cameron McGregor is making his second visit to the penalty box in just the first period. Rumors are flying because he was off in warm-ups too. Usually a level-headed player, he’s been unusually antagonistic. Though this is a high-contact sport, it’s as if he doesn’t care if he spends the game in the box.

The food arrived, and I ripped my gaze from the TV. I’d begun to get a crick in my neck from reading the words in the black boxes and staring at Cameron’s handsome though angry face.

As we ate, my gaze frequently flickered up to one of the TVs in front of me that was playing the game.

“Dmitry wasn’t kidding. He’s playing like shit,” my sister said, interrupting my attention on the game.

“Why are we talking about him?”

“Why are you watching him?”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” she argued.

I was.

“Dmitry said he tried to contact you several times yesterday and this morning,” she replied, not answering my question. When I didn’t answer or look at her, she continued. “If he’d been bugging you, I’d have heard your phone buzzing and you’d have bitched about him. That’s why I asked if you blocked him.”

Abandoning my food that had lost its appeal, I slouched back in my seat. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss the mess I’d made of my life and the man who had shattered my heart.

I was having a hard time deciding what I was most angry about. It was a toss-up between my unnecessary pettiness in pushing him away and his callous decision to hop in bed with someone days after our relationship foolishly ended. Granted, we were both at fault, because I refused to completely separate my past experiences from who he was, and he didn’t feel we were worth saving.

“Maybe I screwed up,” I reluctantly admitted. “Maybe we both did. But how do we fix this? How do we get back from this? He slept with someone else, Crimson.”

Shoulders slumped, she sighed. “I know, but you were broken up. Right? I mean, technically it’s no different than the women he slept with before you.” The expression on her face told