The Fifteenth Minute Read Free Page A

into a booth against the wall. And Bridger’s girlfriend Scarlet who plays goalie for the women’s team.
    I’m oddly jittery, waiting for DJ to appear, which is crazy. The room is full of attractive guys, but none of them affect me the way DJ did that night in December. It was partly those dimples and the way his big, dark eyes crinkle in the corners when he grins. But it wasn’t just his looks. His smile makes me feel warm inside. While we talked, he looked at me the way a boy looks at a girl he’s trying to get to know—not like a fan or a dude who thinks I’m an amusing celeb sighting. And DJ knows a lot about music, which means that we had plenty to talk about. The night I met him, we nerded out about the rise of EDM during the last decade.
    Distracted by this geeky memory, I accidentally knock over my beer in its plastic cup. “Damn it,” I swear, standing up so it won’t run off the table’s edge and onto my jeans. Smooth, Lianne. Real smooth .
    Trevi moves fast, tossing a small wad of pizza napkins onto the spill. “Let me get some more,” he says.
    “I’ll grab them,” I insist, darting away before he can do it.
    When I return, there’s another girl sitting in my seat. She’s very attractive. I’d almost say stunning, except there’s something hard in the smile she gives me.
    “Hi?” I toss the napkins onto what’s left of the spill and brace myself for a Princess Vindi joke.
    The interloper smirks. “Can’t you, like, wave your wand to clean it up?”
    Yep. There it is. A Princess Vindi dig, and she’s taken my spot.
    “Amy, seriously?” Bella snaps from my elbow. “You’re in her seat.”
    The girl puts a hand on Trevi’s arm. “I need to see my man. You don’t mind, right?” She grabs the dampening wad of napkins and chases the last of the liquid across the wooden surface.
    From across the table, Orsen winks at me. Then he moves over one seat, making space on the other side of Bella.
    So I move, because it’s the path of least resistance. Besides—Amy’s portion of the table will be sticky, and now that’s her problem. Though I still want to punch her. Sitting in my ex-chair, she’s angling her body toward Trevi, showing me her back.
    I’ve noticed that some people at Harkness are determined to ignore me. Like they’ve decided I’ve had more than my share of attention, and it’s their job to even things out.
    The hockey team has been mostly nice to me, though. Maybe it’s because these are the real celebrities of Harkness College. Their team made it to the Frozen Four last year, and with most of the team still intact, they’re expected to do well this year, too.
    Trevi refills my beer and then pours one for his evil girlfriend. He’s missed Amy’s bitchy exchange because he’s busy arguing with another hockey player about the Winnipeg Jets.
    I’m just about to ask, aren’t the Jets in New York? But then I remember those Jets are a football team and save myself the embarrassment. My sports ignorance knows no bounds. I’m bored by their conversation, but I wish I weren’t. It’s nobody’s fault I grew up among people who bet on the outcome of the Tony Awards instead of the Stanley Cup.
    I want to fit in—it’s just that I don’t speak the language.
    Even as I’m rounding out this depressing thought, another male body appears in the doorway.
    I don’t have to turn my head to be sure it’s DJ. I’ve been waiting so long to see him again that I just know . He’s there in the periphery, hands stuck in his jacket pockets, leaning against the door frame talking to one of the players. The muscular breadth of his shoulders is exactly how I remember it. His confident stance draws me in.
    All at once, my pulse quickens and I feel a little dizzy. As if I’d walked out onto the edge of a diving board, and felt it wobble beneath my feet. Am I going to talk to him again tonight? Could it possibly be as much fun as last time? And what will I find to say?
    The sad truth