Paul’s expression hardened, dark blue eyes taking on a malicious gleam. “All I’m saying is that if you’re determined to be a puck bunny, there are probably better options.”

“Excuse me?”

“Going straight from being Morrison’s girlfriend to Carter’s girlfriend is a bad look, don’t you think?”

Asshole.

I glared at him, scrambling inwardly for something to say but coming up woefully empty-handed. Chase would have had something cutting and witty to fire back. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as quick on my toes when it came to offering up retorts on the fly.

Especially when my brain was imploding.

“You can save your fake concern,” I said. “As for the article, I’ve got all I need.” Throwing my bag on my shoulder, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the coffee shop, narrowly missing two people standing near the door who threw themselves out of my way as I approached.

For the sake of my position with the paper and my portfolio, I would write the article diplomatically, even if I wanted to shred Paul and his bloated ego to pieces, word by word, paragraph by paragraph. Complete with a headline that read something like, “Assistant Captain with Inferiority Complex Revels in Captain’s Absence.”

The title had a nice ring to it. Obviously, I couldn’t publish that. But I might write it anyway for my own petty enjoyment.

Continuing my brisk pace, I sped down the tiled hallway and pushed open the glass door, exiting the student commons. Fresh, crisp air washed over me, and I sucked in a breath, but it didn’t quell the nausea in my gut. And, of course, I’d forgotten my half-full coffee on the table. Clearly, even the smallest things would go wrong today.

I had planned to go to the Callingwood Daily office, but I couldn’t face Zara and Noelle. My stomach was in my throat, and my hands were shaking—they would know something was up the instant they saw me, and I was in no condition to discuss the interview from hell. Instead, I turned right and cut across the quad, heading to the library to hide at a table somewhere deep in the stacks.

As I walked, I tried to see things objectively. Paul’s intentions weren’t sincere. That was a given. He was probably trying to mess with Chase by messing with me. But despite that, a small part of me wondered if what he said was true. If Chase had been flirting with some girl…or worse. I didn’t want it to be true, and I wanted to rule it out, but I’d been wrong about these things before.

And was I just someone who went hockey player to hockey player? A puck bunny?

* * *