Page 45 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

nineteen

I t’s eleven o’clock, I’ve eaten a shit-ton of carbs, we haven’t made it to the party, my dad’s already texted once, and Bradford’s the cherry bomb on top. Now I’m hiding in a bathroom stall, trying to pull my shit together. This is not how I expected my evening to go.

Wear something nice tomorrow. We’re meeting with Phil Anderson for brunch before we leave.

Something white to play up your innocence.

And wear your hair down.

Anderson. Why does that name sound familiar?

Sydney 11:09 PM

Will Mr. Anderson’s wife be joining us?

I don’t know if he actually has a wife, but I take a stab in the dark. All these assholes have wives.

I re-read the texts from Bradford I was hoping I had misread.

Bradford 10:47 PM

I was trying to surprise you, but I see that’s kind of backfired since you’re not home.

Sydney 10:47 PM

Seriously?!!

Bradford 11:10 PM

Where are you?

What the actual fuck? I take several deep calming breaths as I try to wrap my head around why he would do something so idiotic.

I am on a date with the Lucien Morrow and today of all days, Bradford pulls this shit. I specifically told him not to come, and he came anyway. It’s just like him to do this. I should have known better; he never listens to me.

I brace a hand against my stomach, breathing through the nausea before texting Bradford back.

Sydney 11:11 PM

Bradford, I told you not to come. I’m out with some friends right now. We’re having a last supper kinda thing.

Dad 11:11 PM

No, which is exactly why you’ll be joining us. His son is supposed to be in attendance as well, but even if he isn’t, you still have a job to do.

It dawns on me just then. The Andersons. The family that’s out to get Lucien suspended from the team.

Shit.

Sydney 11:12 PM

What about Bradford?

Dad 11:13 PM

What about Bradford? He understands his role as should you.

Bradford 11:13 PM

Is that important?

I stare at both text threads, ready to flush my phone down the goddamn toilet. It almost falls into said toilet when I suddenly hear a group of girls loudly talking and giggling as they enter the bathroom.

“Did you see Morrow outside?”

My ears perk.

“God, even in sweatpants that man is delicious. I bet if he stood up, he’d be rocking a monster package,” a sultry voice says.

“I don’t get all of the hype, if I’m being honest. I mean, he’s cute and all, but everyone knows he’s crazy,” another girl says.

“Who cares? I hear he’s especially crazy in the bedroom,” says another girl, apparently in agreement with the first. I listen intently as they take out different makeup items from their purses and debate Lucien’s sanity.

My teeth clench and my acrylics claw at the fucking walls.

“You just have a thing for that whole bad boy look,” one argues.

“Yeah, and you have a thing for football jocks who’ve been hit in the head one too many times. But you don’t hear me judging,” she quips back.

“‘Bad’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. Did you see the game earlier? He’s fucked. They’re probably going to expel him this time.”

I lean on the toilet to get a better look at the girls through the gap between the door and the stall wall.

“Whatever. They always let him back on the ice. He wins games,” says the first, staring at herself in the mirror as she swipes the excess lipstick from around her lips.

“Seems like a lot to let someone get away with just for being talented,” says the redhead that’s apparently not his biggest fan.

“And hot. Don’t forget hot. The pretty privilege is real,” says the blonde fixing her ponytail alongside the first.

“Yeah, but did you hear what happened to the guy he fought?” asks the redhead.

A beat of silence.

“What about him?” asks the blonde.

“Well, I heard it was the school president’s son and that he had to be medevaced to Seattle General for emergency surgery.”

“Nuh uh,” gasps one of the girls. “You’re totally lying.”

“I’m totally not. Christy heard it from Tonya, who heard it from Becca because her sister’s boyfriend’s cousin works at the hospital.”

“No way?” Another jumps in.

Well at least that takes care of the brunch issue.

The other two gasp.

“Yeah, and he almost coded on the way there because he swallowed too much of his own blood and teeth.”

One of the girls makes a gagging noise.

“Eww,” at least three girls say in unison.

“Sure, you still want to fuck him after hearing that?”

“Yep,” they harmonize again as they all head back out to the diner.

I roll my eyes and redirect my attention to my phone, which already has a return text from Bradford.

Bradford 11:16 PM

Does your dad know you’re not home?

Sydney 11:16 PM

No.

Are you going to tell him?

I wouldn’t put it past him to snitch. He loves being in my dad’s good graces, he enjoys the perks that come with his approval. I can’t really blame him; I do too.

Bradford 11:17 PM

Of course not. Do you want me to meet you at the restaurant? Tell me where and I’ll come pick you up.

Sydney 11:17 PM

No.

We’re about to leave.

Bradford 11:18 PM

Okay, cool. You wanna meet me at my hotel afterward?

I stare at the texts. How the hell am I supposed to get out of this? I can’t afford for Bradford to find out about Lucien and I’m definitely not forfeiting my time with Lucien so . . .

Locking my phone, I thrust it back between my tits.

When I’m all cleaned up, I check my own makeup in the mirror.

Pushing the bathroom doors open, I turn the sharp corner back to our table but stop in my tracks.

I’m seeing red. Red lipstick to be exact.

The same girls from the bathroom are flocked around our table flipping their hair and batting their mascara-crusted falsies.

Oh, hell no . One girl has her hand on his shoulder, pressing her stuffed boobs in his face.

I’m so busy seething over the girls; I completely miss the group of guys approaching from the opposite side.

“Sasha, what the fuck? Get away from him!” A big guy steps forward, whirling on Lucien, his finger pointing menacingly at his face. “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend, Morrow.”

Lucien moves to get up, but I park my ass right into his lap before he can push himself up. I’m staking my own claim. He’s mine. For one night only Lucien Morrow belongs to me .

“Tell your girlfriend to stay the fuck away from Lucien ,” I snap.

The boyfriend peers down at me, taking a moment to admire my tits, before he glares over my shoulder at Lucien.

“And who are you supposed to be? His girlfriend?” he sneers, flicking his gaze back to me.

Lucien and I both tense with my newly appointed title but as has been established it’s of little consequence who I am tonight.

“ I’m the lesser of two evils. So, how about you kindly back the fuck off and leave us alone?” My smirk doesn’t exactly scream evil like Lucien’s, but it challenges him all the same.

“Morrow, you might want to muzzle your bitch before she gets you hurt,” the asshole sneers.

Lucien moves beneath me, but I force him back down, bearing my weight and using every last ounce of strength I have to keep him braced to the seat. It’s not enough. He’s ten times stronger than me, but he won’t throw me off— of that much, I’m sure.

“Move, Sydney,” Lucien growls against my ear, but I can’t afford to do that. He can’t fight them all. We’re grossly outnumbered, even if we exclude the girls, and though the thought of clawing out their eyes and pulling hair extensions is tempting, I’d rather not break a nail. So it’s up to me.

I ignore Lucien’s command. And then . . . I scream, forcing large crocodile tears to fall from my eyes as I do.

“Ah! Oh my God! I didn’t do anything! Ah, please, stop, go away! Don’t jump me! Oh, Lucien , please hold me!”

I cradle myself into Lucien’s arms, burying my face into his neck. He holds me awkwardly, his movements stiff as he’s taken just as off guard as everyone else. Out of the corner of my eye, I see patrons start to look our way, concerned and pulling out their phones should they need to call the cops.

“Yo, shh, you crazy bitch!” Our disrupter whisper-shouts, panicked by my outcry.

I cry more, harder. I fucking wail.

“Why would you say that?! I’m not a bitch. I’m a woman. We were just trying to have a peaceful meal, and you all came over to us. . .being so mean.” I sniffle and dab at my eyes. My makeup may be ruined, but my performance is flawless.

“Are you being fucking for real right now?” the boyfriend hisses.

“We don’t want any trouble! Why won’t you leave us alone ?” I bawl.

Our waitress walks up, and everyone starts to back off, a blend of scared and confused faces, not knowing what to do with the scene I’ve caused.

Too easy.

“I’m gonna have to ask you all to leave,” says our waitress, addressing the gaggle of assholes in front of us. “These nice folks weren’t bothering anyone before you came in causing problems.”

The boyfriend sucks his teeth before looking back at us.

“This isn’t over, Morrow,” He jabs a finger at Lucien. When he looks to me, the corners of my lips lift. Looks like I win . He glares at me, malice dripping from his features, but when the waitress turns back, I’m hiccupping and trying to regain my bearings as I swipe away my fake tears.

After they’re gone, our waitress returns to the table. “Sweetie, are you two alright?”

I nod my head, hiding my face with the rough napkin she hands me. I almost break character and laugh when I catch the happy couple arguing outside the window behind her.

“Aww, why don’t you get yourself cleaned up? I’m so sorry for the disruption of your cute date. I hate guys like that. Your dinner’s on us and I’ll bring you guys some milkshakes. On the house, okay?”

I nod my head.

“Thank . . . you,” I sniffle.

Her hand covers her heart before she walks away to get our free milkshakes and comp our meal. I unfurl myself from around Lucien.

When I’m sure she’s out of earshot, I turn around to find him staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“That was . . . You’re kinda insane, aren’t you?”