Page 5

Reese exhales a frustrated sigh. “You better be.”

“Y’all be safe,” he says, before spinning around and ambling back toward the party.

“Is he going to be okay?” I ask, watching as he climbs the deck stairs and slides his arm around a girl’s waist. She nuzzles affectionately against his side.

“Probably,” Reese says, taking Twyler’s hand. “He’ll feel like shit in the morning, but that’s his problem.”

“How about you?” Twyler asks, waiting for me to fall in line with them as we head down the road toward our house. “Are you okay?”

Other than being a third wheel of a couple who are so perfect together I can’t be mad about it? Jealous, totally. Mad, not a bit. “I’m fine, Twy. It was no big deal. Brent was just flexing, like always.”

She doesn’t seem convinced, but Reese distracts her with a kiss on the cheek. She blushes, embarrassed at his affection. I smile encouragingly, pretending like everything’s okay.

Because that’s what I do best.

2

Axel

Thud,thud, thud.

The pounding outside my room sounds like a herd of cattle running down the hall.

This is what it’s like living with three other hockey players.

“Reid! Shut the hell up!” I shout, face pressed into my pillow. “It’s the goddamn middle of the night!” Even though the words come out in a rasp, the sound of my voice reverberates back, shuddering against my temple.

Thud, thud, thud.

I blink, or try. My eyelids are heavy.

Jesus.

That’s not cattle. Or my roommates.

That pounding is coming from inside my head.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

The voice drags me out of sleep. Thefemalevoice or rather, the hand of the female under the sheets wrapped around my–

Holy boner!

I force my eyes open, the glare of the sunlight harsh and painfully bright coming from my bedroom window. It shouldn’t be this hard to look over at the girl holding onto me like a hockey stick. When I finally peel them open, a blonde is grinning back. “Morning.”

Even with the bedsheet crease on her cheek and bedhead, she’s cute. I can see why I brought her home, but I also have no freaking idea who she is. No memory of… fuck, much of anything. I drop my eyes to her chest. How the hell did I forget those tits?

She frowns, her lips parting downward. “You okay?”

I rub my face. It feels numb, like I’m still wasted. “Yeah, sorry. My head is killing me.”

How much did I have to drink?

She licks her bottom lip and I see the glint of gold on her throat. Squinting, I make out the name Chantelle etched across a flat disk. “How about we do what we didn’t get to last night because you passed out and then we can head over to the dining hall for Sunday brunch. They have the best waffles and it’s still open for another hour.”

The mention of food makes my stomach roll, and not in a hungry sort of way. I fight back a gag, and blink again, trying to clear the cobwebs in my head. “Sunday?”

“Yeah, Sunday.” The look Chantelle gives me makes it pretty clear she thinks I’m a total dumbass.