A Hockey Tutor by Mary Smith Page A

would react once she found out about Wes. I focused on the game tonight.
    If she researched it on her own, then maybe she'd realize what an ass he really was. Why did I care if she stayed with him? I could get any girl I wanted. Of course, that hadn't always worked out for me. I'd never had a girlfriend in the old-fashioned sense. I'd just slept with them, maybe bought them a gift or two, and then hoped they never bothered me again.
    Hell, maybe I’m more like Wes than I thought. I shook my head, knowing that wasn’t true. He was a liar and a cheater. I would’ve never done what he had done.
    I felt the hot water turning cold, and knew it was time to get out. I toweled off, and slipped into a pair of dress slacks, before going back out to the bedroom.
    Katie was sitting on the side of the bed. Her hair was on top of her head in a large puff, her legs were crossed, and she was staring at her phone.
    “You’re not Googling, are you?” I questioned her.
    “No,” she said, looking up at me. “I’m reading a text from Wes. Ugh, I can feel a headache coming on already. I’m not sure if it’s because of the texts or a hangover.” Katie moaned as she rubbed her temples.
    What did the texts say?” Normally, I didn’t pry, much less care about Wes' affairs, but this was Katie he was messing with.
    “Just the typical “I’m sorry” texts.” She threw her phone down onto the nightstand. “I’ll worry about that later. I need to get home.”
    I walked over to her and took her hand again. “Just stay here. I’m getting ready to leave, so the bed is all yours. Plus, Lindsay is across the hall with Franks.”
    “Thanks again, Andrew. I mean it.” She leaned into me a little, and for a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me. And I realized I wanted her to.
    “Um,” she cleared her throat and took a step back. “You have a bus to catch.”
    “Yeah, you’re right.” I grabbed my bag and walked out of my bedroom before anything else could be said.

Chapter 9 – Katie
     
    Click. Click. Click.
    I stood in the middle of the campus courtyard taking pictures of the almost bare trees. Nature shots were my favorite to take, because they were real. There was no mask of makeup, or clothes to hide behind. It was the truth, plain and clear.
    I pulled my thick winter coat and wool scarf tight against me as the wind began to pick up. Even though the sun was shining bright, it almost looked like a ghost town around campus. On Sundays, at this time of the morning, most students were still sleeping. I sat down on an empty bench, just trying to wrap my head around everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
    I almost kissed Andrew. Why? When I put my head on his shoulder, something was different. It felt . . . right. When he was holding my hand, I had never sensed that type of contentment before, with anyone. Then there was Wes, who kept sending text after text about how sorry he was for being a jerk .
    The cold wind was too much for me today. I packed my camera back into my bag and walked to the apartment. I couldn’t get Andrew or Wes out of my head. I still hadn’t Googled anything, because I wasn’t sure what I was going to find. Part of me wanted to know, but another part didn’t want to confront whatever demons lay in Wes’ closet.
    I strolled into our warm apartment and saw Lindsay lounging on the couch, chomping on an apple.
    “Having a good morning?” she asked, smiling brightly at me.
    “Don’t ask.” I dropped into the chair.
    “Googled anything yet?” she inquired.
    I shook my head. When I finally got out of Andrew’s bed on Saturday, Lindsay and Franks were already up. On our way home, I told her all about Andrew, Wes, and everything that had happened that morning.
    “Still in love with Andrew?”
    “I am not in love with Andrew.”
    “Are you sure?” she asked in a singsong voice.
    “Shut up.” I yelled at her. I wasn’t in love with Andrew. I sure as hell didn’t love Wes,