Not So Loved (West Coast Campus Series Book 2)

Chapter 1

The walls are covered in hockey posters and records, along with some vintage clocks resting in random places. The walls are now this dark navy blue, big studio ceiling lights hanging in front of the stage.

Dozens of portraits hang on the backwall behing the stage with a sign that says Wall of Singers above it. I notice Allie has a photo up there just as I spot her hair in the sea of people.

Still in her white-washed jeans and black sweater from earlier, she practically skips up to me when she spots me weaving through the group of hockey players.

It must be a hockey thing because I would say half of them are wearing black dryfit long sleeve tees.

But I'm not complaining.

They all look delicious and edible.

"Maeve! You actually came!" I can barely hear Allie over the loud music as she drags me past the seven tables Noah's hockey team takes up and heads to one directly in front of the stage, recgonizing Allie's friends Kyla and Seth, who've come to the coffee shop with Allie on rare occasions that Noah can't be there.

"You guys remember Maeve, right? She manages that coffee shop, Waves , the one near our old apartment?"

Kyla gasps so loudly Allie practically jumps besides me, looking behind her shoulder before Kyla starts,

"Oh. My. God! Where the hell did you get that dress?"

I shrug.

"I would so let you fuck me 'cuz you look that hot." Kyla sighs, fanning herself.

Seth snorts at his girlfriends outburst, tugging at her hand to pull her in the seat beside him.

He practically purrs. "Babe, leave the girl alone. You have me for that."

Allie hides her gag in Noah's shoulder who responds by wrapping his arm around her waist before a beer bottle smashes on the floor beside us.

Noah snaps. "Mike. Watch it."

The newcomer pales. "Sorry, Allie."

Allie smiles in response, gently patting his shoulder when he buys her an iced tea.

Besides the hockey team, they're aren't many other people crowding the bar.

Sure, there are puck bunnies who have ogle eyes glued to their faces when they stare at some of the men in here, wearing such short dresses that I want to go over there and slap them, which coming from me is definitely saying something.

Walking up to the bar, I grab a light beer and pretend to be interested on what Kyla's talking about but loud hollers behind me has Noah and Seth groaning in their seats.

"Oh, fuck off." Noah mumbles.

"Why can't you control him, Cap? Put him on a leash or something. I beg you." Mike says.

Noah's eyes flash when he stares over my head before turning back to Mike.

"If I had my way, he would be in a fucking cage."

Now, that gets my attention.

Curious to what's gotten them so riled up, I turn, searching for a moment before I look towards the door.

There's about three guys standing at the bar, downing beer after beer, throwing their hands above their heads and shouting after every empty bottle.

"He's not that bad." Allie says, but with the way Noah moves her closer to him, I think otherwise.

Seth grunts. "I don't know why Coach hasn't kicked him off the team yet."

"Hey! I heard that dick face! And I'll have you know that Coach thinks..."

My drink is halfway to my mouth when I freeze.

That voice.

I know that voice.

I fell in love with that voice.

And I want nothing to do with it.

I fully turn in my seat when I lock eyes with him.

The laugh he was enjoying moments ago gets stuck in his throat as he catches my eyes. I watch the colour from his face actually drain and watch the way his eyes loose all their life for a second before he brings his hand up to his throat and scratches.

His tell for when he's nervous.

But I'm already out of my seat, my heels echoing loudly throughout the bar as I push my way through to him, ignoring the shoulders I get caught on until I'm inches away from his face, his breathe hot on my skin.

He visibly swallows, looking anywhere but me.

And when he finally does meet my fuming stare and opens his mouth to speak, I snap.

Over seven years of bottled up rage against him comes flying out.

Using my free hand, I punch him across the face at the same time I drive my right knee up as hard as I can, hitting him square in his shrivelled up little dick.

He folds from the pain, falling right to floor at my feet.

How all men should.

The bar is silent. No one dares to move as they stare at the scene that's unraveled in front of them.

Even Kyla stops talking.

Rhys grunts from where he lays on the floor, his hands cupping his dick.

He groans once more before turning onto his back, his head pushed into the floor.

But when his navy eyes meet my fuming ones, he merely smiles a bloody grin and says,

"Hey, Nova. Miss me?"

So I kick him again.