“I don’t even like jocks,” Deidre protested.
“He’s smart,” Arwen pulled up a page on the internet. “He graduated university even while playing the NHL with a degree in business economics and a four point oh.”
They were sitting in the middle of Arwen’s bed, sharing a pizza, and looking up Mathis online. Deidre had Miley on facetime and was texting Portia frantically. Arwen was reveling in her cousin behaving like a typical nineteen-year-old woman and was coaxing and prodding her.
“Why is he interested in me? I’m plus sized, scarred and lame.” She twisted her hair over her upper lip like a mustache as she contemplated the way the six-foot four athlete had towered over her five-foot-six frame.
“It’s the eyes,” Arwen teased.
“He’s out of my league,” Deidre moaned in confusion.
“If he mak
