Page 26 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Drew

I nurse my beer, barely tasting it. Barton’s is a zoo.

Blue jerseys and smeared face paint are everywhere, high from the win.

I’m at a high-top with Easton, Blake, Ryan, and their girlfriends.

I roll my shoulder, and let the win take the edge off.

Jade’s supposed to be here. Our project is on track, sure, but it’s her laugh from that late-night study session that’s stuck in my head.

My fingers tap my glass. Restless. Waiting for her to walk through that door.

“Earth to Drew.” Ryan waves his hand in front of my face. “You with us, man?”

I blink, dragging my attention back to our corner booth where Ryan, Easton, and Blake are crowded with their girlfriends. Maddy, Ryan’s girl, is tucked under his arm, her dark hair falling across her face as she laughs at something Easton just said. Amanda keeps touching Blake’s arm, giggling.

But my girl? She has to be kept a dirty little secret.

I fucking hate it.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just thinking.”

“About that filthy goal you scored.” Blake raises his glass. “That was sick, man. Coach Howell was practically getting off on the bench.”

Everyone at the table laughs. I force a smile and take another sip of my beer.

“Did you see the scout from Pittsburgh?” Easton leans forward. “He was watching you like a hawk.”

I nod, but the truth is I barely noticed the scout. My eyes were searching the stands for someone else entirely.

The bell jingles, and Jade strides in, her hair loose, “Kiss the Player” mug dangling from her hand like a statement. My pulse kicks up, but it’s the table’s reaction that pulls my focus.

Blake straightens, his captain’s instincts kicking in. “Heads up, boys,” he says, voice low but firm, like he’s calling a play. “Coach’s niece. Keep it chill, or we’re all running suicides Monday.” His eyes scan Jade, not lustful but wary, like her presence could tip the team’s balance.

Easton leans back, a grin splitting his face.

“Well, damn, Klaas, you didn’t say she brought her own mug to the party.

What’s next, a PowerPoint on how to bruise your ego?

” His laugh’s sharp, cutting through the bar noise, but there’s a flicker of respect in his eyes, like he knows she’s no puck bunny.

Ryan, next to me, sets his drink down, his gaze softer, more knowing.

“She’s got you rattled, man,” he murmurs, just for me.

“Never seen you check your phone that much. You sure you’re just working on that project?

” His tone’s gentle, like he’s seen the way I light up when Jade’s around, the way I haven’t since Jake’s shadow took over.

I grunt, but my attention locks on her. Her messy blonde hair falls around her shoulders as she walks into the bar, fitted jeans hugging every curve. Callie’s with her, probably to help ward off unwanted attention. And yeah, by unwanted, I mean mine.

Jade spots us, her smirk faltering as she catches the team’s stares. I stand, waving her over. Callie’s face stiffens, she says something to Jade, and heads to the bar.

My hand brushes Jade’s arm as she slides up to us. “You made it,” I say, voice steadier than I feel.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she shoots back, but her eyes flick to the guys, wary, like she’s sizing up a rival team. “What’s with the welcome committee?”

Blake clears his throat, all business. “Just making sure we don’t end up in Coach’s doghouse. No offense, Howell, but you’re trouble by association.”

Jade snorts, leaning forward. “Takes one to know one, Captain.”

Easton laughs. “Oh, she’s got claws! Bet she could out-skate half of us. You teaching her the knuckle-puck yet, Klaas?”

Ryan’s smile is quiet, but he leans in, voice low. “Ignore them. They’re just jealous Drew’s got someone who keeps up with him.” His words hit closer than I’d like, and I catch Jade’s eyes, a spark there that makes my chest tight.

“Ah, don’t worry. I won’t yuck your yum.” She winks and gives a little wave. “Have fun, boys.” She holds my gaze as she slips by and heads to where Cassie sits.

“That girl is pure trouble,” Blake says.

“With a capital T,” I murmur, not peeling my eyes off her tight ass.

And for the first time all night, I do.

“Think you can make it through the night without a meltdown?” Ryan asks.

My jaw tightens. I force a laugh, but I’m still too focused on Jade as she leans against the bar, hip-to-hip with some guy who hands her a drink.

“Dude,” Easton says. “This is brutal. Fuck what Coach says. Just go talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees. “Before you have an aneurysm.”

“Weren’t you the one warning me against her?” I ask.

“You played with purpose tonight. If she had anything to do with that, then I’m team Jade.” He nods her way. “Go talk to her.”

I shake my head. “I’m good right here.”

But I’m not. Not with every other guy in this place closing in on her. I catch Blake’s eye. I don’t miss the caution sign he’s throwing up. I may have the team’s permission to talk to her, but I certainly don’t have Coach Howell’s.

A burst of laughter cuts through the crowd and draws my attention back to Jade. She talks to Callie and that random guy. I barely notice when Ryan starts again about the game, the scouts, and how my goal is going viral online.

The tension at the table grows when I don’t answer. I’m staring holes into Jade. Fixated.

On her.

On my number, centered and bold, across the curve of her back.

She may not be able to shout it out to the world that we’re together, but the silent statement she makes by wearing my jersey says it all—she belongs to me, not the douchebag hitting on her.

My knee starts bouncing under the table, restless. Ryan nudges me, then gives Easton a what-the-hell shrug.

“Bro, you good?” Easton whispers, not letting the girls hear. But he’s one to talk. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Callie this entire time.

I lock in on the movement at the bar. The guy leans in, too close, saying something in Jade’s ear. She doesn’t flinch and gives him a wicked, dismissive smile. One I know too well. It means try harder, see what happens.

The guy, older than me, maybe a grad student, flushes but pushes back. They volley a few more words. He gestures to her drink and signals the bartender. I hate him immediately.

She catches me watching and doesn’t break eye contact.

I can’t decide if I want to walk over or turn away, so I just sit here, glued to the booth like a moron.

My skin tingles with the memory of her shirt stretched across her back, the way her hips tucked under my hands.

I want to touch her again, to remind myself I can.

Then the guy says something that makes her laugh for real, her head tipping back and the sound slicing through me. I bite down on jealousy so hard my teeth hurt. I try to play it cool, order another beer, but the heat in my cheeks and the tightness in my jaw give me away.

Ryan leans over. “Looks like your girl’s making friends. You gonna let that slide?”

I consider flipping him off, but don’t bother. Instead, I nurse my beer and stew in my seat, watching Jade toy with the guy. She always said she liked making people uncomfortable. Usually, that meant me.

“I just—” I swallow. Jade faces the bar, her jeans painted onto her legs, and I can’t stop staring. I can’t sit here, unable to go to her. “I just need some air.”

I set my beer down and push up from the booth, ignoring their surprised looks. The crowd parts for me as I stalk across the room. Maybe I look like I’m about to start a fight. Maybe I am.

My head spins with jealousy, need, and frustration as I head straight for Jade. Her back is still to me. And there it is again, my number, right above her perfect ass.

I can’t stop myself from reaching out when I pass and brushing my hand against her lower back.

It’s possessive and intentional, but the joke is on me as electricity zips up my arm like a live wire straight to my chest. Jade stiffens, turning around, and her eyes meet mine with a snap.

It’s like the rest of the bar doesn’t even exist.

Her skin burns into my palm like an aftershock. Even walking away, the imprint of her against my hand feels like she’s stitched into my fucking bloodstream.

I give her a look that says it all, hoping to see her crack. She doesn’t, but I keep walking straight to the hallway, away from the crowd.

I lean against the wall, thankful for the low-lighted sconces. Closing my eyes, I try to get a grip, but it just makes things worse. All I can think about is her sitting at the bar, wearing my number like a brand.

The sound of scuffling boots echoes down the hallway, and I know it’s her before she says a word. I crack my eyes open to find her standing there, half-smiling.

“You wore my number tonight,” I say. “You did that on purpose.”

She lifts her chin. “Maybe I just like the color blue.”

“Or maybe you like having me wrapped around you.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Hockey Boy.”

I look her up and down. I don’t bother to hide it.

She crosses her arms and leans a shoulder into the wall. The hallway’s empty except for us and the wash of golden light from the bar behind her. In this space, her eyes look almost silver. I wonder if she knows how badly I want her.

“Why are you out here?” she says.

I should give her some smooth lines, but I stick with the truth. “Couldn’t watch that guy hit on you anymore.”

Her lip quirks. “I was just getting a free drink.”

“Did you want it?” I nod to the beer in her hand.

She shrugs. “Not as much as I want other things.”

My hands go cold, then hot again. I step closer. The space between us warps, my body tuned to hers like a magnet.

She tilts her chin, looking up at me like a dare. “You gonna start a fight, Drew?”

“Maybe,” I say, and lean in. That vanilla scent she wears floods me, and suddenly I can’t help myself.

I brace a hand on the wall behind her and cage her in. She doesn’t back up. Not even a millimeter. “You know you drive me insane, right?” I say.