The Perfect Lie

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Chapter 8 Hangover Confessions Part II

Bárbara Hendler

“Notebook, veterinary toxicology book, aspirin, headphones,” I said, listing each item as I tossed it into my backpack.

After the shower, I felt less sore and cleaner, even though the UCLA showers never got as hot as I wanted for my misery — hot enough that I’d feel like a vegetable in soup — but at least my hair no longer smelled like alcohol, and the aspirin Jessica had thrown at my face was starting to work, along with the bitter, strong coffee that burned its way down to my empty stomach.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and, when I picked up my phone, I saw two things: first, I had missed my first class of the day. Second, Declan still hadn’t returned my call.

Oh yes, I had tried calling once before the shower, but maybe Jessica was right and I should wait before trying to talk to him. Still... I knew he had practice Monday morning, so I’d go to the rink to find Declan and take the opportunity to kick Francis Justice for sticking his nose into a fight that wasn’t his.

But I had to leave right then or I’d be late.

So I grabbed the jacket hanging on the back of my chair and headed out, stopping only to lock the door.

I realized far too late that this had been a mistake.

Even though California was warm most of the time, it was February. The long-sleeved shirt I had chosen for the day, even paired with jeans and sneakers, wasn’t enough for the walk across campus to the Bruins arena in the middle of winter. So, as I got closer, I was forced to put on the jacket and...

It was way too big.

And it smelled like a man and woody cologne.

But the pack of alcohol wipes I found in the pocket revealed that the jacket, besides belonging to one of the Tritons, was Nicolas’s.

My memory of how it had ended up with me was hazy, but I didn’t have time to waste if I wanted to catch Declan as soon as he left the locker room. So I pushed through the arena doors and headed for the rink.

If I started counting my mistakes, I wouldn’t have enough fingers.

That one was definitely among the greatest.

“Oh no!” Graham Hayes shouted, shoving his foot into one skate, his braids tied in a bun behind his head. Then he grinned at me and turned toward the rink where the San Diego Tritons were about to start practice. “Nic, tell me you at least remember this one’s name, because she looks dangerous.”

Nicolas was passing the puck to Gabe while warming up.

“If he calls you sweetheart, it means he doesn’t remember your name,” Joshua said, running past me and smacking his giant duffel bag into my shoulder. “Sorry, sweetheart!” Then he shouted to Nicolas across the rink. “My bad, Captain, my alarm didn’t go off!”

He kept running, yanking skates from his bag and sitting beside Graham on the bench.

“Good morning!” Christopher, already in full practice gear, passed me with a smile before taking off his glasses, squinting, and running his fingers through his messy red hair.

“Good morning for who?” Dylan Lancelot asked, gliding past us in all black. His long hair was tied into a topknot, showing tattoos, gauges, and one shaved side of his head. “Life sucks.”

“He’s nice, I swear,” Christopher said with a grin. “Nice jacket, by the way!”

Then he skated onto the ice.

Nicolas and Gabe, who were in the middle of the rink, came over toward the boards where I stood. I’d have to pass there anyway if I wanted to reach the locker rooms and find Declan, so...

Like some lesser god, Nicolas removed his helmet, and his hair — still perfectly in place since practice hadn’t started yet — fell into that deliberately messy look that made him seem charming, as if he’d spent hours styling those straight strands.

His eyes landed on me for a second, and I took a deep breath, mentally begging him to stay quiet and not throw me into the humiliation of discussing last night.

I couldn’t take it.

I knew I’d collapse back into my near-death state with tears, headaches, and mucus.

It would not be pretty.

Then he smiled.

“You really are wearing my jacket.” His smile widened as he tilted his head, openly studying me. “Looks good on you.”

I nearly cried with relief and let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.

“At least she can trust it’s clean,” Gabriel joked, smiling as he unclipped his helmet too. “Morning, Barbie.”

Apparently, not annoying me was some kind of pact between them.

“Morning, Gabe,” I said with a smile, then turned to the captain and pulled a handful of wipe packets from the pocket. “Are all your jackets like this?”

Gabe burst out laughing and looked at Nicolas with a go ahead, explain yourself expression.

“Smells like One Million and rubbing alcohol, always,” he said, glancing at his best friend, who stared back curiously. “What? It’s not like I sniff your jackets. You just smell like hand sanitizer and cologne.”

“It’s true,” Graham said, grabbing a stick and lightly smacking Nicolas on the butt with it. “Cleanest guy I know.”

The Tritons captain rolled his eyes.

“You say that like it’s an insult, Hayes,” Nicolas said. “Have you learned how to wash your own balls yet?”

Then he turned to me and said, like it was a secret:

“Sorry for the rudeness. Sometimes I have to put Graham in his place.”

And he winked.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, shoving the wipes back into the pocket.

“My captain style is a little different,” I shot back.

“You throw pom-poms. I know,” Nicolas replied.

“At least her team respects her,” Gabriel said with a shrug. “We stopped respecting him after he named the robot vacuum.”

“You named the vacuum, not me!” Nicolas protested.

I sighed, not very interested in that topic, but suddenly I felt trapped there.

He had given me a note and asked if I was okay.

Maybe I shouldn’t hate him that much.

“What should I call it when I accidentally drop the poor thing out the window?” I asked.

“The vacuum is Toby, and you can call me accomplice when that ‘accident’ happens,” Gabe said, making air quotes.

Nicolas tried to shove him in the stomach with his stick, but Gabe skated away, nearly colliding with Josh and Christopher.

As soon as the blade of Nicolas’s stick touched the ice again, he looked at me.

A flash of last night crossed my mind: the way he had looked down at me, made me climb two steps, then kissed me with beer-wet lips.

“I honestly never realized how nice this jacket is,” he teased.

If I’d had a pom-pom, I would have thrown it at him.

“I grabbed it by accident this morning.”

He raised one eyebrow, clearly doubting me.

“Here, take it back—”

Nicolas raised both hands in surrender as I started removing it.

“No, you’ll freeze,” he said. “I brought a hoodie for myself. Keep that one. Give it back later.”

I nodded.

Then Nicolas glanced over his shoulder, noticing the Tritons were splitting their attention between warming up and watching us, so he skated to the small gate leading off the ice and stepped through, walking toward me on the blades.

With the skates, he looked even taller, and I had to tilt my head back to talk to him.

Still, there was something calm in his eyes and posture, as if he had no idea how intimidating his size could be.

He scratched the back of his neck and spoke quietly.

“Are you okay? After yesterday and...”

When I bit my lower lip, Nicolas stopped talking.

“I...” I cleared my throat under his gaze. “Yesterday was not my finest moment.”

“Not even the kiss?” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched.

“Especially the kiss.”

He placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded.

“I’m fine. I just came here to talk to Declan and...”

Just like Clint, Justice, and Jessica, he grimaced at the mere mention of that name.

“The Bruins just got off the ice. He’s probably in the shower,” Nicolas said reluctantly. “Still time for you to leave before he sees you.”

I crossed my arms and stared into those handsome brown eyes, slightly narrowed like he was annoyed.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Herrera.”

“I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, Hendler,” he said in the same tone. “I just didn’t like hearing you cry last night.”

Hear me, because I had refused to open the door. Nicolas Herrera had seen me in pajamas and messy hair many times, but never with my face swollen and smeared from crying.

And if I had stood in front of him, I probably wouldn’t have been able to hide the sobs.

I doubted even the heavier-than-usual makeup I was wearing could hide the damage now.

“I was sad because I’m without Declan,” I explained, which should have been obvious. “But now I’m going to talk to him and explain that you and I are nothing and—”

Movement from the locker rooms became audible.

I noticed Clint and Justice emerge first, hair wet and backpacks slung over their shoulders, followed by the rest of the team.

And finally, Declan.

He had a bandage over his nose and cuts and scratches across his face.

It took him a second to notice me there, and I shivered with anticipation when his eyes landed on me.

A second later, they shifted to my side — to Nicolas.

He shook his head.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Without saying goodbye to my neighbor, I hurried over to Declan, noticing up close that the skin around the edges of the nose bandage was bruised purple.

I could kill Clint and Justice for this.

“Declan, can we—”

He shook his head and stopped walking.

Declan Hawkins wasn’t as tall as Nicolas, but unlike him, he puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders, making himself seem huge beside me.

“With Herrera again, Barbara?”

I swallowed hard.

“I was just talking to him,” I explained. “He’s just... that kiss was only to get your attention. I don’t have anything with him.”

Declan crossed his arms, looking me up and down.

“So this jacket isn’t his?”

I could have lied and said it was Gabe’s, and that giant Labrador would probably back me up, but Nicolas’s had the captain’s C on it.

“It’s just a jacket,” I said with a shrug. “You know it’s you I like, Declan. Can we please talk?”

He smiled without humor.

Pure contempt.

“After crawling and begging forgiveness, you went to his room while sending your pit bulls after me, is that it?”

His words hit like a slap and made me step back.

My eyes burned instantly.

“I didn’t go to his room! And I didn’t send Clint and Justice—”

“And to think I actually considered trying again with you,” he continued. “But I guess I like you more than you like me, Barbara.”

Another slap.

How could he think that?

“How...?”

“I love you,” I said quietly, trying to control the trembling in my lips. “Can we please really talk?”

He sighed.

“I don’t know, Barbie. If I say yes, which one of them are you going to kiss next?”

I hunched my shoulders.

Damn it. Did I really have to kiss Nicolas?

“I heard Hayes hooks up with anyone, so you’ve got a chance.”

One stubborn tear fell, and I wiped it away quickly.

“I only want to kiss you, Declan!” I pleaded with my eyes. “If you can forgive me for Nicolas and... God, I can’t believe they hurt you.”

I rose on tiptoe and placed my hand on his cheek, gently stroking the smooth skin there except for the rough stubble beginning to show.

His face was angular and handsome.

Sharp jaw.

Beautiful eyes.

And I...

I could kiss him right there and remind him I was the right person for him.

“Barbara, stop,” he said before my lips touched his. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Just talk to me, Dec—”

“I don’t see you the same way anymore, okay?” he said, grabbing my wrist and removing my fingers from his face.

I tried to pull free, but he held tight.

“And we’re not having a conversation with your boyfriend watching.”

I didn’t look to the side, but I could feel Nicolas’s stare as strongly as I felt Declan’s fingers crushing my wrist.

“You are my—”

“No. I’m not.”

Declan released me with force, flinging my arm and making me stumble backward.

Before I could even grab my wrist with my other hand, Nicolas had shoved himself between us and slammed a hand into Declan’s shoulder, sending him back three steps.

When I looked up, all I could see was Nicolas’s broad back, tense beneath his practice jersey, like a wall built in front of me.

“What the hell is your problem, Herrera?”

I had never seen Nicolas furious before, so it took me a moment to recognize that posture and voice, almost a growl when he answered:

“If you’ve got a problem because I kissed her, then why don’t you settle it with me?”

“Because my relationship has nothing to do with you, rector’s spoiled son,” Declan sneered. “Barbara—”

“Don’t talk to her,” Nicolas said when Declan tried to look over his shoulder. “Better yet, touch her like that again and I’ll finish wrecking your nose until it turns to dust.”

Some of the Tritons noticed what was happening, but Gabe was the one who looked ready to intervene.

I shrank into myself, feeling guilty.

I should have waited outside.

“Nicolas, don’t...” I said, placing my hand on his forearm. “It’s okay, really.”

He was still tense, but he looked back over his shoulder at me with concern and shook his head when his eyes landed on my hand, tiny against his bicep.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Clint yesterday: she likes me, idiot,” Declan said, backing away. “Enjoy her. Barbara, we’re done.”

“Declan...”

I tried to call after him, but the Nicolas Herrera wall in front of me blocked any path forward.

My eyes filled with tears again as he shoved through the arena doors and left.

I only realized I had let out a sob when it escaped loudly, and Nicolas turned toward me, looking at the wrist I was holding.

He gently took my hand, carefully turning it over.

Even through the tears blurring my sight, I could see the red marks of Declan’s fingers on my skin.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes were worried.

My instinct was to snap.

“Just when I start thinking maybe I could like you, Nicolas! Why the hell did you get involved?”

He blinked several times, confused, like he couldn’t understand my reaction.

But I felt anger.

So much anger.

Why had he interfered?

We would have worked it out if he had stayed away.

“He was yelling at you and hurting you!” he said, lifting my wrist to show me.

I shook my head and yanked my arm from his fingers.

“He’s my boyfriend — or at least he was — and you got in the middle of something that...” I growled again, rubbing my face. “Damn it, Nicolas, you ruined everything! Stay the hell out of my life!”

With that, I pulled his jacket off my shoulders and threw it at him before storming outside, even though the cold wind seemed to cut straight through my skin without the warm, heavy, comfortable fabric.

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