I cleared my throat and stood straight. “Not at all. I know exactly where I am.” I flung up my pass that was set to expire any minute. Only for the damn thing to go flying out of my hand.

Troy bent to pick it up, flipping it between his fingers like it was a discarded business card.

“Yes, see. I belong here as much as you do.”

“Hardly. How did you get this?”

I snatched it away from him. “Look, I don’t have time to chat, but I do want to say one thing.”

He stared at me. Waiting.

Come on Harp, you rehearsed this. “I’m not crazy.”

His brows jumped but he also didn’t laugh, so that was good.

“I know I sound it, but I’m usually quite rational. I just—sometimes I take extreme measures to get to what I want.”

A devastatingly gorgeous grin spread his face. “And you wanted me naked?”

“No.” My finger shot up. “Let’s make one thing clear—I never have and never will want you naked. I wanted to—” I swallowed and my eyes fell slightly, but I lifted them to his again. “I wanted for you to see me in a way you never did, to seduce you, I suppose, and then—to humiliate you, just when you thought you had it all,” my voice wavered, and his expression shifted as the smirk on his face fell.

“Harper.”

There it was again. “Please stop saying my name like it meant something to you. Like you really do have regrets, because I still am the only one with them. You will never change. You’ll never feel what I felt and… that’s just not fair.”

His Adams apple bobbed and his jaw tightened. There was a conflict in his eyes I’d probably never understand but it didn’t matter at this point. I needed to go.

When he didn’t say anything, I shrugged. “Maybe someday you will, but it won’t be because of me.”

I stormed off and pushed through the back door. When it wouldn’t open, I flashed my card in front of it and the red light flashed.

Not green.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Turning to face Troy who watched me with a void expression.

He took a step toward me and glanced at the bleachers. “Sit.”

Sit? Before I had a chance to argue, he turned at the sound of his name.

“Hartman, get your ass in uniform. Now,” the coach called from the bench, pointing his clipboard toward the blue doors which I imagined led to the locker room.

Troy didn’t nod, but he didn’t move either. Instead, his eyes shot to the team’s alternate captain, Ryan Flemming. The guy who was with Troy last night at Finnigan’s. Ryan skated over, whispering a few words to the coach, who shook his head in response.