And me? I stood frozen. My heart aching in several places. My best friend looking straight at me... and not recognizing me.
Varna Soni. The girl who once wore gold hoops in her right nostril, laughed loudly and hugged like she couldn't get enough of it. The one who took me in when I ran away from my parents at eighteen and had nowhere else to go. The one who would say my name-Reyna-and the words "my sister" after.
Now her eyes were bloodshot, her skin grayish, lips dry and cracked. Her smile long gone with the coke.
Because of him.
Evander Gabriel. Grentwood College's hockey star and golden playboy. The one who made her fall for him, then shattered her, leaving her to numb the pain with drugs.
Varna's parents pressed her diary into my hands that night. The pages smelled faintly of her favorite coconut shampoo. The ink was smudged in places with tears or spilled coffee; I couldn't tell.
I read every word. Every aching confession. Every line where his name pierced like a dagger through my best friend's heart.
I cried and cried until I couldn't breathe.
And I made a promise. A promise to avenge Varna Soni.
Play the playboy at his own game. Manipulate him into falling for me, then crush him in front of everyone. Make his heart bleed until he feels the pain Varna felt.
~~~
That was three months ago.
Now, I'm halfway across the country, in Minnesota, at Grentwood College, as a transfer student.
I sit at the front row of the metal bleachers, watching a practice game.
The air inside the hockey rink bites at my cheeks. My breath fogs in front of me, hitting the glass.
He's here.
Evander Gabriel.
On the ice, he moves like a man destined to be on the rink. The puck snaps off his stick in a sharp strike, slamming into the net before the goalie even reacts. The crowd on the sidelines, mostly girls, erupts.
He's twenty-four, the team captain, "Ice King" to his rivals. Has third year Sports Science lectures in the morning, hockey practice in the afternoon, and a reputation for being killer at chess.
You'd think the devil has horns. This one wears beauty.
Evander Gabriel is six-foot-two of trouble. Broad shoulders, lean muscle, and black hair that stays perfectly tousled no matter how hard he plays. His ice-blue eyes scan the world like he owns it, softening only when he wants something.
Even the faint scar above his left eyebrow looks intentional, like the universe had decided perfection needed a flaw.
And that lazy, yet confident smile that fits his sharp jawline perfectly is the reason girls keep lining up to get their hearts broken.
As practice ends, Evander glides off the ice to the bench area, helmet under his arm. His teammates slap his shoulder, laughing. The girls rush forward, crowding around with towels, water bottles, and excuses to touch him.
He touches their arms, says their names, dishes out compliments, and eats up the attention like oxygen.
I cross my legs and pull my sketchbook onto my lap. To anyone watching, I'm just a twenty-two year old behavioral science major sketching the rink, with a headphone around her neck. To me, it's a revenge mission.
"Be clever if you want. You're on your own." That's what my father used to say before I stopped letting his words mean anything.
Through the horde of fangirls, his gaze slides over the front row... and lands on me.
He smiles. Slow and confident. Like he's so certain I'll worship him like the others.
But I don't give him the satisfaction.
My face bends into a frown. Then I slip my headphones on, stand up, and walk away.
From the corner of my eye, I catch him still watching me, no longer focused on his girls. His head is tilted slightly, like I've just moved a chess piece he wasn't expecting.
I smile to myself. Target acquired.
Golden boys always want what they can't have.
Evander Gabriel... I'm going to enjoy breaking you.
I swear it!