There is just the slightest nip in the air now, enough for the non-northerners to don a light jacket for the treks across campus. We’ve had two-a-days quite often now that we’re a week out from our first home game.
I feel better than I have, partially from how well the team seems to be meshing even with the parasite Kane looming over me every practice; but mostly because of a snarky figure skater who has her little fist clenched into my chest.
Bennett pretends the night in the hotel room never happened. Just like he and Freddy pretend not to notice how often I leave after dark for a quick “midnight run,” which is only a mile to the dorms—and back with a little guest in tow. I sneak her in, but I know they know.
I find myself at her door in between classes more often than I’ll admit. I go down on her often, my favorite being her on her back on my bed, legs over my shoulders while I kneel and jack myself off. It’s impossible not to with the sounds she makes, her taste, her blunt little nails on my scalp.
Her touch soothes me as much as it ignites me. I was floating before, feeling nothing but numbness. She makes me feel alive for the first time since that game. Like a whole man again.
We haven’t slept together, not yet. Partially because by the time I get my fill of her, she’s come at least three times and I can’t keep myself from following her over the edge with a slight touch.
The other reason, the one I can barely admit to myself, is that I’m scared.
Sadie is ingrained into my body and mind in a way that going even a day without her makes me anxious to be near her. I want more than just her hands on my skin in dim light. I want her everywhere—her hair all over my room, her voice in the noise at my games, her toothbrush in my bathroom—and I worry she’ll get her fill of me and move on. So I hold back the one card I have to play in our friends-with-benefits agreement.
Like the mythical cheerleader waiting to give it up to the quarterback, I’m waiting for her.
I walk beside Bennett from our calculus class, one I’ve put off until now. I’m not even sure why Bennett is taking the class because I’m fairly certain he took it freshman year. Not to mention he’s a genius in his own right.
Freddy and Holden, with freshmen in tow, meet us on the green and we all head towards the wellness cafe for lunch.
“Do we have a two-a-day Friday?” Holden asks, sliding his backpack strap over his shoulder again from where it slipped.
“No, just an early day.”
He nods. “Great, then party?”
“Which house?” Freddy asks, his eyes flickering to Bennett like he really wants to beg. Bennett’s face is a little harsh, but he blows a breath and shrugs.
“We can use ours, or theirs—I don’t care.”
Freddy and Holden slap hands like twins and start to discuss which of the two off-campus hockey houses we want to use to host our annual back-to-school party.
We live in the “Hockey House.’ It’s been passed down to teammates for longer than I really know. Bennett and I got first pick the year the seniors moved out, and we took the nicer, slightly more expensive choice—a two-story colonial painted pale blue with the Waterfell Wolve’s flag flying off the wide front porch.
It’s closer too, an easy walking distance to the main hub of shops on South College and only a little further to hit the dorms and campus. The other house, affectionately called the “hockey dorms” is a seven-bedroom with a split on bathrooms that wasn’t so appealing to Bennett who likes full control of his spaces. Still, Holden and Freddy lived there happily their first year. Freddy moved in with us last year after he joined the first line, like a bonding experiment. The fourth bedroom that’s been vacant since Davidson left will be filled once one of the underclassmen decides.
“The dorms are bigger,” I offer, before trailing off.
Because she’s here.
I spot her just as she spots me. She’s across the green, walking in the direction of the arena, dressed like she might be headed to practice.
There’s a guy with her. Tall, muscular, dressed in a similar tight all black ensemble with her bag—complete with that same fucking hang tag, slung on his shoulder. And just that sight shoots a pang through my already tight chest.
She says something to him quickly, before running towards me with a wave. I preen under her open attention; the way her eyes never leave mine as she jogs over.
Sadie bounces on her toes for a minute, smiling as she blurts, “I found a song—oh.”
She takes a step back, cheeks glowing as she takes in the group around me. Freddy smirks at her, Bennett raising a quiet eyebrow while Holden and the freshman stop their conversation to look at us.
“Sorry.” She steps back again. “You’re busy.”
“I’m not.” I laugh, but there’s a kick in my chest like maybe this isn’t what she wants. Is this a secret too?
Afraid to think about what that means, I nod towards the guys and cart her off with my hands on her wrists again pulling her a few feet away.
“You found a song?”
She smiles again and it feeds my soul. “It reminds me of you, I added it to the end of the playlist last night.”
“I’ll listen to it on the way to my class.”
That sentence alone makes her smile somehow grow until her eyes nearly disappear, crinkling at the edges.
It makes me want to do more of whatever makes her look at me like that, so I add, “I’ll text you what I think.”
“I won’t see you tomorrow morning?”
My stomach drops. Fuck.
“Shit,” I mutter. “Gray—I’m so sorry. I have… fuck, I have two-a-days all week. I have to be at the arena in the morning.”
Her face shutters, a glimpse of real, raw disappointment before she builds a wall of resentment. I’ve seen it before, the movements of her face almost identical to Oliver’s. It’s just another sign, one that I slip under a list of things that make me worried about that family—something else has happened to them, made them like this.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize to me, Oliver’s the one you promised.”
I try to reach for her as she shuffles back, hating how quickly this conversation has changed. “Sadie—”
“It’s fine, Rhys. We aren’t dating, you don’t owe me anything. We’re fine without you.”
It feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach, and again when she stalks back to the handsome, arrogant fucker still holding her bag for her as they take off together.
The boys are gone from the green, Bennett strict enough about his schedule not to bother waiting, but Freddy has waited, for some reason that I don’t care to know. He settles in step next to me, backpack half-slung over his shoulder as a girl sends him a happy, coy greeting when she passes, which he enthusiastically returns while slapping an arm over my shoulders and pulling me away, breaking my view of Sadie.
“Still just sharing ice time?” Freddy asks, his tone serious despite the easygoing smile he has. “Cause with the death glare you’re giving Luc; I’m thinking it’s a bit more than that.”
“If it was more, I think I just fucked it up.”
“One step forward, two steps back. You’ll be fine.”
I shake my head. “Who’s Luc? The guy she’s with?”
“Oh god, you don’t know that guy?” I shake my head and Freddy laughs, patting my chest before pushing the doors to the cafe open, blasting us with a burst of cold air. “Good for you. I can’t fucking stand him.”
That doesn’t help considering Freddy likes everyone. “Who the hell is he?”
We grab trays for the food line—it’s the major hub for athletes here at Waterfell for any meal. Serving grilled chicken, full-fledged salad bars with every topping imaginable. Greens, potatoes—mashed or baked or diced—it has anything we can and will eat, especially during the season.
“He’s a figure skater, a pair; or he was. He has trouble staying with his partners and not sleeping with them.”
There’s nothing I can do to stop the slight surge of adrenaline that surges through me, fingers gripping the tray tight as I grab nearly every piece of grilled lime chicken that Freddy leaves behind. I take a calming breath.
It’s not like he said Sadie’s sleeping with him.
“He was Olympic bound before he ended up here, I think. Thinks he’s god’s gift to women, or some shit.”
I snort. “Takes one to know one, eh, Freddy?”
He laughs, nodding. “Sure, sure.” He’s already got a little potato popped into his mouth as he chews and talks, walking us towards the hockey table.
A couple of people nod their heads as we settle, myself at Bennett’s right, Freddy directly across from me. Where we all have heavy smorgasbords of food within our set diets, Bennett has a sectioned bento box of his meals he makes at home.
“I know you said you’re not together or anything,” Freddy continues, his voice quiet even amidst the roar of the crowd. He rubs a hand along the back of his neck. “But I swear I think he and Sadie used to be a thing.”
Damnit.
Bennett looks up at me for a second. “Sadie likes Rhys. She’s at our place all the time. I don’t think she’d have time for anyone else.”
I sigh and nod towards him in a silent thanks. “She’s got plenty of time for it now.”
“Yep—and if that’s the case, Captain, you’ve got plenty of time for other girls. What about P?”
As if she’s been wished into existence by the utterance of her own name—let alone just the letter—Paloma sinks between Bennett and I, her arms dusting both our shoulders while she angles a wink to Freddy.
“Bragging about me again?” She smirks, stealing a potato wedge from my plate and dancing it around her painted lips.
Paloma Blake is gorgeous and she knows it. Blonde hair, lightly tanned skin, thick, pouty lips and a body nearly every player at the table—hell, maybe the entire male population of the school, has salivated over at one point. Everything about her looks like a sexed up runway model, with an overconfident attitude to match. She might be all flirty winks and blown kisses, but I’ve always suspected the girl has hidden claws.
“Rhys pretends you guys never dated.” Holden laughs, flicking his head with a wink towards her. “If you want someone to brag, just give me a night, P. I’ll never shut up about it.”
Paloma smiles again, all sultry, and every piece of it so fake I want to jerk my entire body away.
Bennett does, pulling away entirely and she melts into his seat without a second thought as he leaves the cafeteria.
“What’s his problem?” she sneers, body spinning to watch Bennett leave, leaning entirely on my side. I lightly jostle her off me.
“Maybe he didn’t want you all over him,” I whisper. I’m not mean, I just don’t care anymore. Old Rhys would’ve let her lay there, let her flirt a bit before refocusing on practice. “You know how he is.”
“I don’t, actually,” she argues, her tone defensive. “But what’s your fucking problem?”
“No problem.”
“Clearly.” She rolls her eyes. “What crawled up his ass and died?”
Holden snorts, stuffing the last of his grilled chicken in his mouth in one overly large bite. Freddy looks up and laughs, shuffling his head towards me as he answers Paloma.
“He likes a girl that isn’t falling all over him for once.”
Paloma raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow as she peels back the lid of a brightly colored kid’s yogurt that seems like it appeared from nowhere.
“Who?”
I don’t want to say, because if her reaction is anything to go by, Sadie might be keeping us a secret. But I know that if anyone on this campus knows everything, it’s Paloma.
“Sadie Brown.”
There’s barely a twitch in her face, her perfect features forever in place against any reaction.
“The figure skater?”
I pause and look at her. “Yeah—you know her?”
She smiles and it makes my stomach hurt. “Oh I know her—she’s fun.”
Something about the way she says it makes me uneasy.
“Fun?”
Paloma shrugs, but that gleam in her eye doesn’t disappear. “She’s wild. She pops into parties for quick, not-so-quiet hookups and bounces, so it’s given her a reputation. I don’t think she slept with anyone on the hockey team, but… the others? Yeah. She has a type—athletic, rough. I haven’t seen her around in a while, but last semester she was wild.”
I want to ask, but I force my mouth closed. If I’ve learned anything from the time I spent dating her, Paloma isn’t who this information should come from.
I force myself to eat, despite the sour feeling in my stomach. We’ve got practice in a few hours, which might give me enough time to talk to her and make it up to her if she wasn’t already at practice.
But I know her schedule like I know my own, because I want to know it. I want to see her every second I can, and for two busy student athletes, that’s a scheduling game itself. It’s surprisingly easier for me to find the time for her than she can for me. More often than not, she is taking care of her brothers. I get the sinking feeling in my gut, the more I am around her, that she is the only one taking care of them.
Shoving back from the table, I excuse myself quickly and toss my scraps in the bin on my way out. Then dive into my phone and pull up Sadie’s text thread, debating exactly how to fix it.
But not before opening her playlist for me, queuing up the new song “Yippie Ki Yay” by Hippo Campus. I can’t help the smile that spreads at knowing exactly why she chose it.
