I slip a clean T-shirt over my head and ignore the twinge of pain in my left arm, which is still sore as shit from the bone-jarring body check I took at the championship game last week. “Hell yeah,” I answer, already fumbling around for a shirt.
That way if one of those activities doesn’t help me with my don’t-think-about-Hannah goal, the other can serve as backup. Actually, no-I want to get wasted and screw someone’s brains out. Getting wasted is a surefire way to stop myself from thinking about Hannah. I dive off my bed faster than you can say pathetic, because a party sounds like a fan-fucking-tastic idea right about now. Luckily, the loud knock that rattles my doorframe comes from my other roommate, Dean, who waltzes inside without waiting for an invitation. Or open their mouths, for that matter, because hearing either of their voices right now will only bum me out even more. No revenge fantasies to be had, because I don’t hate Garrett, not in the slightest.Ī door creaks open and footsteps echo in the hallway, and I pray to God that Garrett or Hannah doesn’t knock on my door. I can’t even hate the dude who’s tapping the chick I want. That’s what makes this a trillion times harder. The best center I’ve ever skated with and the best person I’ve ever known, and I’m comfortable enough with my hetero status to say that if I did play for the other team? I wouldn’t just fuck Garrett Graham, I’d marry him. He plays it off like he’s a cocky sonofabitch, but truth is, he’s a goddamn saint. They’ve been a couple for six months now, and not even I, the worst friend on the planet, can deny they’re perfect for each other.Īnd hell, Garrett deserves to be happy. I see the way she looks at him, and I see how they are together. I guess I’m in the mood to torture myself tonight. I popped the ear buds in with the intention of drowning out the sounds of Garrett and Hannah in the other room, but I still haven’t pressed play. I’m not even pretending to scroll through my iPod library anymore. I’m on my bed, flat on my back and staring up at the ceiling. Every thump of the headboard smacking the wall as someone else screws the girl I can’t stop thinking about. See, I live in a house with very thin walls, which means I can hear every breathy moan that leaves Hannah’s mouth. This one’s a given, because it’s kind of hard not to hate yourself when you’re fantasizing about the love of your best friend’s life.Īt the moment, the awkwardness is definitely winning out. I can’t speak for all men, but I’m pretty sure that no guy wants to leave his bedroom and bump into the girl of his dreams after she’s just spent the whole night in his best friend’s arms. Lusting over your best friend’s girlfriend sucks.įirst off, there’s the awkward factor.
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