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AVA’S POV

HAPPY FREAKING BIRTHDAY

Chase Rivers, all 6 '1 glorious feet of him, is leaning against the bar counter, an opened beer bottle dangling from one hand while a cocky smirk stretches across his annoyingly perfect face. Dressed in his signature blue varsity jacket with his dark hair falling over his eyes, he looks every bit the arrogant hockey captain everyone on campus seems obsessed with. He's wearing the same infuriating grin that has made me want to slap the living shit out of him since the day we met. Which, well, was when I was nine. Yeah. My hatred for him has really festered over the years that I no longer know anything else to feel for him except for the loathe burning through my veins even at the mere thought of him.

As usual, he's shamelessly flirting with one of the bartenders, flashing that stupid lazy smirk like it's some kind of weapon. Judging by the way she's giggling and twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, it's working and as a matter of fact, way too well.

Ugh.

For the life of me, I can't wipe the scowl off my face every time he wanders into my line of sight. Actually, that's a lie. I'm the one who keeps looking his way. I just don’t understand how him and I exist in the same fucking universe at the same damn time.

"Earth to Ava."

Emma, my best friend since we met during freshman-year orientation outside the administration block, snaps her fingers right in front of my face, startling me out of my murderous thoughts.

"Quit staring."

"I'm glaring," I correct, refusing to look guilty. "Big difference."

Leon snorts into his drink.

"Girl, today is your birthday," he reminds me, shaking his head. "Don't let his existence ruin your mood."

Our third roommate and honorary voice of reason makes it sound so simple. If only.

"They just had to throw their victory party tonight." I frown, throwing another venomous glare across the crowded club. "Of all the days in the year, it had to be today."

My eyes find Chase again, because apparently I enjoy torturing myself. I swear that the douchebag of a captain deliberately picked this venue just to get under my skin. Why else would the university's beloved ice hockey team decide to celebrate here of all places? There are literally hundreds of clubs scattered across the city, especially around the off-campus district where college students practically live on weekends. Yet somehow they ended up at the exact same place I'd booked weeks ago to celebrate my birthday. Coincidence? Not a chance. Knowing Chase, he'd probably heard I would be celebrating my birthday party here, rubbed his hands together like the menace he is, and thought, You know what would be hilarious? Ruining Ava's night.

Because that's what he does. He exists solely to make my blood pressure spike. And judging by the smug smile that refuses to leave his face, I'd say he's succeeding.

"Let's focus on something less negative," Emma says, raising her cocktail in the air. By now, all three of us are pleasantly tipsy, the alcohol taking the edge off the irritation that's been simmering inside me all night.

"Yeah," Leon chimes in with a grin. "Like... where's your man? And where's Jill?"

"They went to pick up the birthday cake." I glance down at the elegant silver watch wrapped around my wrist-the one Rodney gave me last year for our second anniversary. A smile tugs at my lips despite everything.

Unlike a certain arrogant hockey captain currently infesting this club, Rodney has never made hockey his entire personality. Sure, he's the starting goalie for Ashford University's ice hockey team, but he's also thoughtful, and somehow manages to have an identity outside the rink. He never struts around campus expecting people to worship the ice beneath his skates. He doesn't flirt with every girl who breathes. Most people would even argue that I'm the center of Rodney's universe.

Honestly, sometimes I believe they're right. He spoils me shamelessly, never misses an anniversary, remembers every little detail I mention in passing, and somehow always knows exactly what to say whenever I'm having a bad day. Everyone on campus knows I'm dating the best goalie in the league, and lately there's been a rumor that national team scouts have been attending our games just to watch him play. As if that wasn't impressive enough, his father was just reelected mayor of the city.

"He sure is taking his sweet time," Leon mutters, checking his phone.

"Maybe they got caught in traffic," I offer, although even to my own ears it sounds like I'm trying to convince myself.

"Happy birthday, Trouble." My entire body stiffens at that. I whirl around, already recognizing the voice before I see him.

Of course. Chase stands behind me with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face, one hand shoved casually into the pocket of his jeans while the other holds a bottle of beer. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. Ugh. That stupid nickname.

"I was wondering how long it'd take before you crawled over here," I mutter.

His grin only widens,"I couldn't miss wishing my favorite enemy a happy birthday."

"You don't have favorite enemies."

"Come on, Trouble. We both know that’s not true,"

I roll my eyes so hard they practically threaten to get stuck.

"I'm surprised you're alone," I say sweetly. "Where's your little sidekick?"

His eyebrow arches, "You mean your brother?"

Yeah, did I mention my older brother and my boyfriend happen to be best friends forever and that he is also in the hockey team?

Unfortunately, I have exactly zero interest in continuing this conversation. Grabbing my purse from the table, I sling the strap over my shoulder before turning to Emma and Leon.

"I'm going to call Rodney."

Emma nods. "Tell him to hurry up. I'm ready for cake."

"I'll drag him back if I have to."

Without sparing Chase another glance, I weave through the crowded dance floor and push open the club's front doors. The cool night air hits my face instantly, replacing the pounding bass with distant traffic. I pull out my phone and dial Rodney's number.

It rings but there is no answer. A small crease forms between my brows. I try again and this time it goes straight to voicemail.

That's odd. Rodney never ignores my calls. Lowering my phone, my gaze drifts across the parking lot. That's when I see his car, parked beneath one of the flickering streetlights. Relief washes over me. I almost thought he’d gotten in trouble. But then again, it’s Rodney we are talking about. He never gets in trouble. I can't help smiling.

Of course. They're probably already back and forgot to check their phones while carrying the cake.

Shaking my head, I start toward the car but then I stop so abruptly my breath catching in my throat, everything inside me freezing.

No. My eyes are definately playing tricks on me. But the windshield isn't dark enough to hide what's happening inside. I can see Rodney- my Rodney- sitting in the driver's seat and someone straddling his lap. His hands are tangled in her brunette hair as they kiss with the kind of desperate hunger that leaves absolutely no room for misunderstanding.

My heart plummets when the woman shifts slightly, the streetlight illuminating the soft pink fabric hugging her body in all the right angles. Recognition slams into me so hard it steals the air from my lungs. I know that dress. Hell, I picked out that fucking dress. Just this afternoon, Jill had stood in my bedroom asking which outfit she should wear to my birthday party.

I'd smiled and told her the pink one looked perfect. Now she's wearing it while making out with my boyfriend.

In his car.

On my fucking birthday.

My best friend and fourth housemate, arguably closer to me than Emma, is kissing my boyfriend.

What the fucking hell?