Page 3

two

I sway to the music as I wait for Chad to toss his ball toward my end of the beer pong table. His ball spins at the top of the cup, and my partner quickly reaches forward, slapping it out with his fingers before it could hit the liquid.

“Good job, buddy.”

My partner smirks. “What can I say, I’m good with my hands.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure you are, big guy.”

He laughs under his breath as he hands me the ball. “Thank you.”

I wait for him to make his shot and study him out of the corner of my eye.

For the life of me, I can’t remember his name, but I know he plays hockey with my brother. I want to ask his name, but at the same time, I don’t want him to get the wrong idea that I’m interested. I mean, I am, but I don’t want a relationship. Not yet. Hell, I’m not even sure I want to be here at school. The last thing I need is to toss a boyfriend or a fuck buddy into the mix. Even if he has sandy blond hair, a sharp jawline, hazel eyes, and makes me feel small standing next to him because of his height.

God, could you imagine the way Clay would lose his mind if he found out I had a fuck buddy? I smile at the thought. Especially if it was someone on his team. He would lose his mind.

“It’s your turn,” he says after he sinks the ball.

“Nice.”

Taking a deep breath, I raise my arm and flick my wrist. The ball goes sailing through the air and lands perfectly in a cup in the back row.

“So you’ve played a time or two,” he muses.

“You could say that.”

“You look familiar. Are you sure we’ve never met?” he asks.

I smile into my cup. I should probably just tell him I’m Clay’s sister, but I don’t. I kind of like that he doesn’t know who I am. It was my main worry about coming here. Living in Clay’s shadow all over again.

“I don’t think so. Maybe you’ve seen me around campus?” The lie flows smoothly off my lips.

He hums. “Maybe. What’s your name?”

“Tell you what, if we run this table for the rest of the night, at the end we can exchange names.”

He raises a brow. “So what am I supposed to call you in the meantime?”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” I tease.

His lips twitch. “How about I call you…beautiful?”

I roll my eyes and smile. “Does that line actually work for you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He smirks.

The team we are playing against sinks both balls because we are too busy paying attention to each other. “Okay, hotshot, let’s kick some ass, yeah?”

“You got it, beautiful.”

For hours we stand side by side, running the table. People around us offer us fist bumps and high fives after every match while our opponents walk away pissed off they aren’t the ones to beat us. A couple of times guys call him by a number, and when they do, he quickly glances at me. I keep my head down, pretending that I don’t hear it, because honestly the numbers mean nothing to me.

I really do need to study the roster, so I know who the guys are talking about.

“Are you still playing?” Brit asks as she approaches.

“Yep,” I say as I take a drink.

She shakes her head. “You’d really rather play this than dance?”

“One hundred percent.” I nod.

“Well, the girls and I are going to head back to the dorms. Do you want to come with us or stay here?”

Biting my lip, I think about it. Logically, I know I’ve had enough to drink and that I should head back with the girls who I came with. Yet, I’m not quite ready for the night to end.

I’m not ready to walk away from my hotshot…

He rests his hand on my back, bringing my attention back to him. “Do you girls want me to walk you back to your dorm?”

Brit’s eyes light up when she looks at him, making my stomach sour. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says quickly before looking back at me. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I probably should,” I say reluctantly.

He nods. “Come on then.”

Brit gathers the girls that we came with, and they all eye the guy next to me like they want to jump him. When we take off down the street, hotshot and I hang back, letting the group of girls walk in front of us. They keep looking over their shoulders at him, but he pays them no mind.

“So when are we playing again?” he asks.

“Huh?” I look up at him.

“Beer pong. When are we teaming up again?”

“You want to be my partner again?”

I’m honestly shocked. He didn’t seem to want to play at first, but now he wants to schedule another game?

“I mean, yeah. We dominated tonight, and I hate losing. Why ruin a good thing?” He pushes his shoulder into mine.

I chuckle under my breath. I wonder if he will still feel that way when he figures out who my brother is.

“I don’t know. I’m sure we can figure it out, though.”

We come to a stop in front of a building, and I wave my hand toward it while the girls step inside. “Well, this is me.”

He pulls out his phone. “What’s your number? That way we can figure out which party we will play at.”

I rattle off my number and feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket.

“Cool. I just texted you. For the record, you’re in my phone as Beautiful since you haven’t given me your name yet,” he says, raising a brow.

“You still want to know my name?”

“I mean, yeah. I wanna know who the mysterious girl is that I hung out with all night.”

Taking a deep breath, I hold out my hand. “I’m Cora.”

A beautiful smile covers his face as he grabs my hand. “Hi, Cora, I’m Kellan.”

As soon as his name leaves his mouth, my stomach drops.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That’s why he was so familiar. He’s Grace’s ex-best friend. The one who spent all of last year pining for her. I heard my fair share of Clay complaining about him on the ice too.

Kellan frowns. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just got tired all of a sudden,” I lie.

“It is pretty late. You should get inside,” he says as he drops my hand and stuffs his in his hoodie pocket.

“Okay. Bye, hotshot,” I say as I step around him.

“Until next time, beautiful.”

As I step into the building, my feelings run rampant, but I keep coming back to one thing. To me, he’s hotshot, not Kellan. I know I should delete his number and forget about everything that happened tonight, but I don’t want to. I really like him, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

Is it really a betrayal when they never dated? It feels like one.

I have yet another decision to make, and I hope it doesn’t send my entire world into chaos.

* * *

The whistle blows, and I slow down and circle back to huddle around the bench. Coach is standing there with a scowl on his face. Brett is standing to his left with an equally pissed-off look on his face. I don’t know if he’s pissed about what he just watched or because he can’t get on the ice.

Two weeks ago, while in the gym, he somehow managed to tear his ACL and MCL. He ended up having to have surgery on his ACL to repair it and is out for the season. Somehow the guy managed to convince the school to redshirt him for a year so he will be able to play for a fifth year after Clay and Beckett leave. Lucky me, I get the torture of being his teammate for another year.

“I want to know what the hell happened to my team who walked out of this arena last year. You fools looked worse than a peewee team out there.”

Everyone shifts, hating the comparison.

My jaw clenches, and it’s almost like Coach knows I disagree with him because he looks right at me.

“Do you have something to say, Cooper?”

“No, sir,” I mutter.

“Damn right, you don’t. For fuck’s sake, I think I saw you trip over your own skates at one point.”

I feel the corner of my eye twitch when he moves his wrath onto someone else and calling them out for their shit performance. I know I’m a little slower on the ice than I usually am, but I sure as hell didn’t trip over my skates.

My stomach churns. I knew I shouldn’t have avoided the arena. My fear of running into Clay has pushed back all the progress I made this summer.

And it’s sure as hell not going to get me the captain spot either.

“As far as I’m concerned, I only have three players who did anything over summer break, and that’s James, Hayes, and Scott.” Coach looks over at Brett. “And clearly Woods here, but we won’t talk about it.”

Of course Clay and his friends got the coach’s praise. I don’t even know why I’m surprised. He’s the coach’s favorite after all.

“Now as you all know, every year, I encourage the leaders of the team to put together a team-building event for all of you. I’m a firm believer that the closer you are, the better you play. That’s why instead of waiting for right before the season kicks off, I’m encouraging you guys to do it now. In fact, I’m demanding it.” He looks over at Clay, who nods before looking back at the rest of us. “I don’t care what kind of kumbaya bullshit you do to get on the same page, but you need to do it, and fast. Otherwise, I’ll start cutting players from the team. Does everyone understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” we all mutter in unison, feeling the threat take hold of us.

“Bury whatever issues you have with other teammates now while you still can.”

My eyes fly up to Clay and find him already looking at me.

“Yeah, don’t think I don’t know about the bullshit between you two. Resolve it and start acting like a team.”

“You got it, Coach,” Clay says like the ass kisser he is.

Coach looks over at me and raises a brow.

“It won’t be an issue, Coach,” I tell him, my tongue feeling like lead.

Coach nods but looks at me like I’m full of shit, and we both know it.

“Good to hear it. Now get the fuck off my ice. I don’t want to see any of you until five a.m.”

Shit.

I can’t let my shit with Clayton take the team from me. I just can’t. This is all I have and all I’ve ever wanted. I can let the shit between us go, right? Fake it until you make it and all that bullshit.

The guys and I skate off the ice and head toward the locker room. I keep my head down and stick to myself. Once in the locker room, I strip out of my gear and head for the shower. As the water pelts down on my face, my mind goes crazy, thinking of what-ifs. It all becomes too much, and it starts to become hard to breathe.

What the fuck is happening to me?

Why is this happening?

Shit, I need to get out of here.

I don’t even double-check that I rinsed all the soap off of me before I’m sprinting out of the shower and heading to my locker. Reaching inside, I grab my clothes and get dressed like the devil is chasing me.

“Hey man, are you okay?” Wyatt asks when I stumble while slipping on my shoes.

“Yeah, fine,” I say breathlessly.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Are you sure?” he asks again.

I ignore him and grab my bag. Turning, I head for the door as my vision starts to tunnel and it becomes harder to breathe.

Air. I need fucking air.

As soon as I rip open the door and step outside, I take a deep breath, or as deep of one as I can get. I hear someone say something, but I don’t pay attention to them. I put my hands on my knees and concentrate on sucking in as much air as possible.

Chuck Taylors with smiley faces on the tips come into my view, and a hand comes down on my shoulder. Just barely do I stop myself from flinching.

“Hey, hotshot, you good?”

Turning my head, I see Cora looking down at me with concern.

“I’m fine.” I clear my throat and stand. “What are you doing here?”

She shifts from foot to foot. “I was passing by and saw you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Sorry for worrying you. Practice was just a bitch and harder than I expected it to be.”

Cora nods, but the crease between her eyebrows tells me she’s not buying my lie, not that I blame her. Grace always said my face can’t hide shit and speaks for itself.

“That makes sense. Want to talk about it?”

Do I? Yeah, I do, but right now the air feels like it has been sucked out of my lungs.

“I can’t,” I tell her.

She must see something in my eyes because hers soften. “Okay. That’s okay. Maybe you can walk with me for a minute?”

I nod, falling into step beside her as she walks. After a moment, my breathing becomes easier.

“Do you want me to walk you to class or home?”

She shakes her head. “I’m meeting someone, but they can wait a minute. Are you really okay? You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I’m not, but I will be. Eventually.”

My watch vibrates, and I look down. The reminder that I need to get across campus for my next class flashes across my screen. “Sorry to cut this short, but I got to go to class. Can I text you later?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She looks as if she’s not sure about me. She shouldn’t be. I’m a fucking mess.

“Sure.”

That one word has me feeling better. I don’t have much, but I have hockey, and maybe I can have Cora too. Maybe I can put my life back together.

“Cool. Later, beautiful,” I say before brushing past her.

I feel her eyes on my back as I walk away, but I don’t turn around. I can’t. Not right now. Not after what she just saw.

Shit, I embarrassed the fuck out of myself. Yet, she still said I could text her.

I hold on to that as I rush to class.