THE ENTIRE HOCKEY team pours through the front door and immediately heads toward the liquor cabinet.
I wait until Russ is about to walk past then grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “My room. Three-nine-nine-three.”
His face drops and he forces a nervous laugh. “You’re not my type, Cap.”
I tighten my grip when he attempts to walk off toward the rest of our team members, who are passing around beers in the living room. “It’s been a long fucking day. Don’t make me do this in front of the whole team.”
His shoulders drop in defeat, and he trudges up each step like a naughty school kid, his head hung low. I mean, technically right now he is a naughty school kid.
Sharing a rink right before the start of the season is a logistic fucking nightmare—not to mention when we have home games. Fuck. I feel like I have a migraine coming on already and we haven’t even attempted to work out a schedule yet.
The brown-haired figure skater was seething earlier. I’m surprised a vein didn’t pop out of her forehead when her coach told her to not worry about it. I was trying to discreetly listen in, which wasn’t hard since she was yelling.
I feel like doing the same when I think about “not worrying about it,” so at least she and I have something in common. Her boyfriend looked totally unfazed, so maybe he’ll help her calm down, or maybe not, judging by the way she shrugged him off.
She’s a funny little thing. Immediately sassing me, holding her head high, but I think she might have been warming to me. Minutes earlier, she was clearly on the brink of tears. I’m hoping she takes up my offer and we can have a drink, form a friendship of some sorts. It’ll make this whole situation easier.
I decide to let Russ wait for twenty minutes, hoping the guilt will be eating away at him, and it won’t be hard to find out what’s happened. He’ll be upstairs listening to people laugh and joke without him, but he won’t realize people are laughing about how fucking awful this season is going to be.
I feel sorry for them.
So much so, I’m not even kicking the rookies out as they drown their sorrows in their beer bottles. I feel like I need to make a motivational speech or something, cheer everyone up, but first I need to work out exactly why we’re in this mess.
Russ is sitting on my desk chair, spinning in circles, when I finally join him. I expect him to make a snide remark, moan about waiting so long—something I would have done when I was a cocky little shit—but he doesn’t say anything. He sits silently, waiting for me to make the first move.
“What did you do?” He rubs his hands together, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees. He’s uncomfortable. His face is pale, and he looks ill more than anything. “Buddy, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what I’ve gotta help with.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
I run my hand across my face, trying not to lose my patience. “I know you’ve done something, and I can’t fix it if you lie to me.”
When I first started playing hockey at Maple Hills, our captain was a dick, and everyone hated him for it. I never expected to become captain, but I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be like him. Russ has a shitty home life, and I know he didn’t work his ass off to get himself out of that situation to come here and be treated the same way by me.
Maybe I wouldn’t be this patient with some of the other guys on the team but being a good leader means knowing how to get through to your men.
Taking a seat on my bed across from him, I slowly watch about ten different emotions hit him all at once. “It wasn’t a prank, I promise.”
“Right, keep talking.”
“There’s this girl at UCLA. I met her at a party a couple of weeks ago. We started screwing around, and then every party I was at she’d be there. I thought she was single but…” he looks at his hands, picking at the calluses on his palms.
“But?”
“But she has a boyfriend. He found out somehow and sent me a message saying I was gonna fucking regret even looking at her. Then this happened so it must be that, right?”
“You still talking to this girl?”
He shakes his head. “I blocked her on everything as soon as I found out she had a boyfriend.”
“You don’t tell anyone this, okay? You’ll get kicked off the team,” I say seriously. “I mean it, kid. When they ask why you’ve been up here, tell them you got shit going on at home or something, and you wanted to talk to me.”
“Okay, Cap.”
I nod toward my door. “Get yourself a beer.”
I wait until he’s out of the room and stomping down the stairs before I scream every curse word I know into my pillow, for the second time today.
A FEW HOURS after my best attempt at being a responsible captain, the house is overflowing with people, empty bottles, and red cups. Part of me is expecting David Skinner to walk through the door, or worse, Faulkner.
I doubt Coach would be too thrilled we decided to end the worst day ever with a party we were told not to have. Normally Friday parties are full of tired athletes, aching from Friday games or practice, looking to unwind and watch other people make some questionable choices. But tonight, there’s something different in the air. It’s almost like being reminded we shouldn’t be misbehaving is making everyone want to go wild.
I spot Briar, Summer’s roommate, pouring herself a drink at the kitchen counter, which immediately makes me feel better. Those girls are inseparable, so if B is here, Summer will be here somewhere. She can’t reject me twice in one week, right?
Summer jokes the only reason I want her is because she’s not interested, and she’s the only woman who’s ever rejected me. Hearing her say she’s not interested makes me want her more, so thinking about it logically, she’s probably right. As much as I want a chance with her, we are good friends, which makes her rejection sting a bit less.
I push past the masses of people and put on my friendliest I wanna marry your best friend face. She’s so engrossed in the random liquor she’s mixing, she doesn’t even notice me as I lean against the counter beside her. “That looks like you’re gonna be throwing up on my lawn later, Beckett.”
Her head snaps up, long blond hair swishing as she finds me next to her. “It’s a good job I’m not drinking alone then, isn’t it,” she slurs, her accent an unusual mix of English and American.
Her green eyes are glassy, and her smile is more of a lazy, drunken smirk as she winks at me and pushes the cup in my direction, immediately reaching for a new one. “I heard you had a shitty day. I did, too, we can be sick together.”
I wait until she’s mixed another disgusting concoction before tipping my cup to hers. “To dipshit sophomores.”
She snorts. “To dipshit ex-girlfriends.”
I throw back the drink and fuck does it sting. “Jesus Christ.” I choke as the fluid burns its way down my throat. “Who the fuck taught you to mix drinks?”
“My Uncle James. He calls it a magic cocktail. You looking for Summer?” She rolls her eyes at me when I nod. “She’s playing beer pong with Cami in the den.”
“I’ll remember this beautiful moment when I’m making the speech at mine and Summer’s wedding.” I knock back the rest of my poison, trying not to gag, but failing.
“No you won’t!” she shouts after me. “She knows you fucked Kitty last night!”
Fuck.
Summer is bent over the table, lining up a shot, when I push my way through the crowd to stand next to her. She’s playing Ryan and CJ from the basketball team with her other best friend, Cami.
“You winning?”
“Go away, Nathan.” She laughs, not bothering to look up at me. “You’re going to distract me.”
“Rude. What if I’m your good luck cha—” I don’t even get to finish my sentence because I’m eating my words as she sends the ball bouncing across the room by accident.
She finally looks up at me, her eyes murderous in a way I find weirdly sexy. I clear my throat. “I’ll cheer you on from over here.”
She rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath knowing I won’t understand her. “Es buen cosa que eres atractivo.”
Scanning the den to see who turned up, I immediately spot Miss I-don’t-have-a-name. She looks significantly more relaxed than she did earlier; her long light brown hair is curly, bouncing around her face as she throws back her head and laughs at something her friend said. Her cheeks are flushed, ocean-blue eyes bright; she looks happy.
I like it.
She spots me before I reach her, and I might be imagining it, but I swear she checks me out. “You made it!” I say cheerfully, although she doesn’t react. I try her friend instead, who’s staring at me with an intrigued look on her face. “I’m Nate.”
“Sabrina.” She flicks her finger between the two of us, eyes narrowing. “Do you two know each other?”
“We met earlier,” I confirm, watching her ignore my attempt to get her to look at me. She takes a sip from—what I can see from my height advantage—is an empty cup. “Didn’t get your name though, sadly.”
She stops pretending to drink and finally looks at my face. She only looks like she wants to hit me with a hockey stick a little bit now, which is a huge improvement from earlier.
“Anastasia. Or Stassie. Whichever, it doesn’t matter.”
“Can I get you guys a drink?”
“I can get my own, it’s fine.”
Sabrina huffs and rolls her eyes at her friend, smiling up at me. “Ignore her, she doesn’t know how to play nicely with others. Only child thing.”
“Jesus. Okay, I’ll help you though,” Anastasia says, walking off toward the kitchen, dragging Sabrina behind her with her free hand. I jog after them, scooping the empty cups from her grip. “A drink isn’t going to charm me into not being mad about the rink, y’know.”
I can believe that. Nothing about this girl tells me she’s going to be easy to crack, and it’s made this whole rink situation a bit more interesting. “You haven’t even seen how charming I can be yet,” I tease, grinning ear to ear when I catch the corner of her mouth creeping up. “You’re going to be impressed.”
She takes the cups back from my hands and moves in front of me to place them on the counter, getting to work making two drinks. “I’m immune to hockey player charm.”
Robbie wheels his chair to my side and digs me in the leg, mouthing What the fuck behind the girl’s backs with wide eyes. He clears his throat and they both turn to face him. “What about charming assistant hockey coaches?”
“Oh, she’s definitely immune to those, but I’m not. Hi, I’m Sabrina.”
“Robbie.”
Sabrina elbows Stassie who mumbles a “Hi.”
“This is Stassie. She acts like she’s grumpy but she’s actually very nice.”
“Thanks for coming to my party,” he says, not taking his eyes off her. I don’t know whether to cringe or stand in awe as she flutters her eyelashes at him and giggles.
Unbelievable.
Anastasia has the same blend of confusion and amusement on her face as she looks between our friends. “Brin, I’m going to get into line for the bathroom. Are you coming?” Sabrina’s eyes flick to hers then back to Robbie’s, before shaking her head. “Okay, I’ll meet you back here.”
I hold out a hand to lead her toward the stairs. “Come on, you can use my bathroom.” She looks at my hand once then back up to my face, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I have a password-protected door and a private bathroom. You can join the line if you want?” I say, pointing toward the people drunkenly draping over the staircase.
She sighs in defeat and drops her hand into my palm, weaving her fingers between mine. “This isn’t me forgiving you.”
“Obviously.”
I navigate us through the crowd, keeping her body close to mine, her free hand resting gently on my waist until we reach the stairs. She walks around me to go first, and I immediately realize letting her go in front of me is a mistake, because as soon as she gets a few steps ahead, I’ve got her ass in my direct vision, swaying side to side as she takes each step.
I usher her in and point toward the bathroom, getting a weird sense of déjà vu watching her after this morning’s antics. At least she’s clothed. Wait, why am I saying it like it’s a good thing?
She exits the bathroom after a couple of minutes, stopping in her tracks when she spots me waiting for her on my bed. I hold up my hands defensively. “I didn’t want you to get lost.”
“It’s fine.” She folds her arms across her chest and tilts her head to the side in a way that almost looks playful. “I’m disappointed you’re here; I was going to snoop.”
It’s nice to see a different side to her after the one I met this afternoon. Not that there’s anything wrong with showing emotion, I just prefer to see her more relaxed.
For the first time, I get a real look at what she’s wearing. Tight leather pants that look like they were freaking painted on, and a black lace corset, showing her body in a way I’m not sure I even know how to describe. What I’m saying but not saying is she’s hot, and maybe getting to know her a little better won’t be a bad thing.
“Don’t let my presence deter you from snooping,” I joke. “I’ll wait right here.”
The sound of her heels clicking echoes around the room as she walks slowly toward my desk, not taking her eyes off me. Her fingers travel across the pile of biology books littering my desk. “What’re you studying?”
“Sports medicine, you?”
“Business.” She picks up a picture from my desk, analyzing it thoroughly before looking back at me. “West Coast kid?”
“Mountains.”
“Wyoming?” she asks, putting the photograph down and picking up the one next to it.
“Close.” I stand and walk over to the desk, taking the picture from her hand and replacing it with one of me and Robbie at our first hockey game when we were five. “Colorado. Eagle County. You?”
“I’m from Seattle. That’s Vail right? Rich kid hockey star from Eagle County is a bit predictable, isn’t it?” I sit on the desk so we’re at eye level, folding my own arms to match her guarded stance. “A little bit cliché?”
I can’t keep the smirk from my lips as her ocean-blue eyes lock with mine. “You think I’m a star?”
Turning quickly, she scoffs and heads across the room, sitting on my bed. I want to follow her like a little puppy, but I force myself to stay put, watching as she places her hands behind her and leans back, letting her silky brown hair drape over her shoulder.
“I’ve never watched you play,” she says with a bit more cheer than I’d like. “I strongly dislike hockey.”
“I’m offended, Anastasia. I’ll have to get you tickets for rinkside seats at our next home game.”
“I don’t need tickets for an event in my own arena. That’s if you guys don’t fuck up before then and your team gets axed.”
There is almost a bit too much optimism in her tone when she says the word axed. It’s like being verbally abused by Tinkerbell.
“Who did you guys terrorize enough to deserve getting your rink trashed?”
This isn’t going to be the last time I get asked this question, so I need to buckle up to take it, even though I hate lying to people. It’s a white lie, but I’m not a fan of starting a friendship with a negative. “We haven’t done anything, so I’m not sure.” Her eyes narrow because she clearly doesn’t believe me, so I panic. “I promise, Anastasia.”
Her eyes soften and I immediately feel like shit. Why the fuck did I promise?
“Should we head back downstairs?”
“Sure. Robbie has probably charmed the pants off your friend by now.”
She chuckles and it’s borderline embarrassing how happy I feel finally getting her to laugh. “Trust me, Sabrina is more than happy to be charmed by a hot guy.”
This time I’m smart enough to walk in front of her down the stairs, resting our interlocked hands on my shoulder for her to use me to balance. It’s not until I’m on the bottom step I see her
boyfriend—who I’d forgotten existed—standing there, staring at me like all hell is about to break loose.
