Love To Hate You | 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙷𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚜 ❈

Twenty Three

I sat on the bus, the seat beside me remaining empty and I prayed it would stay that way. I hadn't spoken to Jack since he dropped me home last night, and now, I was silently panicking. We'd kissed, sort of, and now I was spiraling into anxiety about the boy. So, we'd been caught in the middle of a kiss, which cut it short, it shouldn't have bothered me at all. I'd wanted him to kiss me, but, for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about it, and how he hasn't tried again.

Was I a bad kisser?

Granted, the kiss had lasted, maybe five and a half seconds, still, that was enough time for Jack to realise maybe I wasn't too great at the activity. Truthfully, I hadn't had much practice in the art form, having only kissed Reid a handful of time, most of them non consensual.

My track record for kissing boys so far had been . . . Less than ideal. And now, we were stuck with friends for three days, more than likely with no alone time, no rink time, no time to pick up where we'd left off.

"What you thinking about, Lyla?" Stella grinned, flicking my forehead in a playful manner. I jumped, startled, before smiling back.

"Honestly, nothing," I lied, shaking my head to rid myself of all thoughts of Jack. He still wasn't here, maybe he'd decided not to come on the camping trip? Maybe he was avoiding me? He hasn't texted me all morning, and I was staring to worry that our moment had scared him off.

Luke walked on the bus then, his hair blonde and perfectly styled and his eyes catching my own. He smiled, and when I gave him a tiny grin of my own, his smile grew. My stomach did a flip, but not in the way it often did for Jack. No, it flipped with fear. I was afraid that what Jack had told me was true.

Luke didn't like me, right? He'd just said that, to cover up for his own feelings . . . Right?

Luke took a seat beside Calum, and I found myself breathing a sigh of relief. He pulled out his headphones, burying himself in his phone, and I silently thanked the heavens.

The bus was really starting to fill up, meaning I wouldn't be alone in my seat for long. Izzy sat with Michael, Stella sat with Ashton, and Luke with Cal. I guess, they all assumed I'd sit with Jack, but, he still wasn't here.

"Where's Rowdy?" Michael asked me, as if reading my mind. I shrugged, glancing at him cluelessly, indicating that I didn't know. "He didn't text you?"

"Nope," I stated, popping the 'P' as I slumped back in my seat, glancing at the students still filing into the bus, silently wondering the same thing.

Michael squinted at me, suspicious. "Did something happen between you two?"

"No." I tried not to give myself away, I really did. I even avoided eye contact, but the look on my face, the redness of my cheeks and nose and forehead and the way I shifted uncomfortably in my seat told Michael I was avoiding answering him on purpose.

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sure."

Jack jumped on the bus, seconds before the door closed. He was panting, hard, and I silently wondered why. Dylan was about to sit in the space beside me, but Jack looked like he was on a mission. He made a direct beeline for the seat I was in, eyebrows furrowed and face set on the back of Dylan's head.

"Don't even think about it," he warned, slipping through the aisle and throwing himself into the seat beside me. He glared up at the goalie.

"Man," Dylan whined. "You won't even let me shoot my shot!"

I leaned into Jack, suddenly thankful he'd taken Dylan's intended seat. Dylan was sweet, and sure, he was cute, but I didn't want him to shoot his shot, not ever.