One of them is blushing profusely, while the other gives an enthusiastic wave.
I spare them a look before turning back to Rupi. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re interrupting our brunch.”
“I wanted to put in a formal request,” she announces.
“A formal request for what?” Summer sputters.
“I want an introduction.”
My brow wrinkles. “To whom?”
“Mike Hollis.”
I set my fork down.
Summer puts down her tea.
Several seconds tick by.
“Mike Hollis?” Summer finally says.
“Yes. He’s your roommate,” Rupi replies helpfully.
I snicker.
“I’m aware that he’s my roommate.” Summer shakes her head. “But why on earth do you want an introduction? To him.”
Rupi releases a long, dreamy sigh. “Because he’s the most beautiful man in the world, and I think he’s my soul mate, and I’d like to be introduced to him.”
Another silence falls. I’m not one to declare anything a hundred percent, so I’ll say I’m ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine percent certain that this is the first time in the history of the planet that anyone, at any time, has referred to Hollis as the most beautiful man in the world and/or as someone’s soul mate.
Summer appears to be as stunned as I feel. But we both recover fast, sharing a telepathic moment that brings a grin the size of Boston to Summer’s lips. She pats Rupi’s arm and says, “I would be honored to make that introduction.”
“Actually, I’ll do you one better,” I chime in. “I’ll give you his phone number, and you can contact him directly.”
Summer is quick to second that. “Yes, even better! And when I get home I’ll be sure to tell him that the daughter of a Bollywood star is going to be calling him.” She winks at me when Rupi isn’t looking.
Rupi’s brown eyes light up. “Really?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Summer pulls up her contact list. “Do you have your phone on you?”
Rupi produces an iPhone in a bubble-gum pink case, and Summer quickly recites Hollis’s number. After Rupi finishes entering the digits, she gives us a solemn look. “I want you to know that you’re both gorgeous and wonderful and I’m going to be seeing a lot of you once Mike and I start dating.”
I won’t lie—her conviction is downright inspirational.
“Anyway, I won’t take up any more of your time. Just know that I think you’re beautiful creatures and I’m so grateful for your help!”
And then, as rapidly as she appeared, she bounces out of the booth like a tiny ball of energy.
Later that night, I arrive at Malone’s at the same time as Nate Rhodes. “Hey!” I exclaim, slinging my arm through his muscular one. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
I’m a big Nate fan. He’s not only a skilled center with a wicked slapshot, but he’s also a stand-up guy. A lot of jocks have a reputation for being cocky jackasses. They strut around campus with huge chips of entitlement on their athletic shoulders, “honoring” women with their time and their wangs. Not Nate. Along with Fitzy, he’s the most humble, down-to-earth guy I’ve ever met.
“Yeah, my plans got canceled. I was supposed to meet up with a chick and she bailed.”
I give a mock gasp. “What! Doesn’t she know you’re the captain of the hockey team?!”
“I know, right?” He shrugs. “Probably a good thing she bailed, though. I’m still rocking a hangover from last night.”
“That was some game-winning miracle you pulled off in OT,” I tell him. “I wish I got to see it in person.”
“Most stressful overtime period of my life,” he admits as we enter the bar. “For a moment I thought we might actually lose the damn thing.” His light-blue eyes scan the main room, which is crammed with sports memorabilia, TV screens, and college students.
“There they are,” I say, spotting our friends in a far booth. “Ugh. Hollis is here? Now I’m even more glad you showed up. You’ll be my buffer.”
“He still trying to get in your pants?”
“Every time I see him.”
“Do you really blame him?” Nate gives an exaggerated leer.
“Knock it off. You’ve never once expressed any interest in my pants.”
“Yeah, because Coach would castrate me! Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it.”
“Perv.”
He grins.
We reach the oversized booth, a semicircular one with enough space to accommodate four hockey players and me and Summer. She’s snuggled up beside Fitz, while Hollis sits alone on the other side, his gaze glued to the Bruins game that’s already underway.
Hollis shifts his head at our arrival. “Brenna! Come sit.” He pats his thigh. “There’s room for you right here.”
“Thanks, big boy. But I’m good.” I slide in next to Summer.
Rather