Page 8

noah

The nutty scent of freshly roasted coffee hits my nose before I reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Morning Starshine,” Silas’s deep voice rasps from where he’s sitting on the couch. His morning hair is ruffled and going every which way as he sips his coffee, wearing nothing but black-and-green Lions sweat shorts and tall Nike socks.

Skipping the creamer, I pour steaming coffee into my favorite LCU hockey mug.

“It’s fucking freezing.” I shiver, sticking my free hand into the pocket of my sweater. I give his bare, tattoo-covered chest a pointed look as I sit down on the couch beside him.

“I run warm.” He shrugs in response.

ESPN highlights roll as we drink our coffees and sit in a comfortable silence.

Sometimes, I forget that Silas didn’t grow up with Maverick and me.

Our duo has become a trio over the past three years together.

On the surface, he’s still one of the more reserved guys on the team, but I feel lucky to know the real Silas.

He’s one of only four players on the team that have had scouts interested in him, who show up to games with their eyes set on him.

He’s also one of the only guys on the team who doesn’t have an end goal of going pro.

I guess that’s what happens when you’re real estate royalty, though.

His family owns The Miller Group—the top real estate development company on the coast. Linden Creek is a quiet, old town, but a short two hour drive from here sits everyone's favorite vacation spot. Bayview Beach might as well be a different country with its miles of white sandy beaches and multi-million dollar vacation homes. It just so happens that about eighty percent of those houses have been developed by Silas’ family.

He always says he’s here to get his architecture degree and help Maverick and me look good on the ice.

“You bailed kind of early last night,” he says around the rim of his mug.

If by early, he means an hour after we got to the bar, then yeah, I bailed early.

After winning our first game back, I was riding a high.

Coach gave us the weekend off and we were all ready to celebrate.

Rowdy’s had to be close to max capacity by the time we got there, but I spotted that pretty head of dark hair immediately.

I thought I’d order us a round of drinks and surprise Savannah with them, but I was the one who ended up surprised when I looked over and saw her talking to another guy.

It wasn’t until her back went ramrod straight when he put his hand on her thigh that my jaw was clenching and I started acting slightly out of character.

I was by her side quicker than what should have been possible in that packed bar.

I can still hear the hitch in her breath when I threaded my fingers through her hair and cradled the back of her head. I might have been joking about us dating, but at that moment, I didn’t hate the idea.

I don’t know what that means, but last night I learned that I have a weakness for her smile.

Getting one out of her isn’t difficult, but getting her to not hide them is a whole other beast. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want to like me—but for a brief moment there, I thought I might be getting somewhere with her .

You’re all the same and you don’t care about who you hurt to get what you want.

Her words replay in my head. I was caught off by her assessment of me. Not just me, but anyone who plays hockey. It was a lot to unpack especially in that setting, but I’ve not forgotten.

Silas looks over at me like I need to catch a one-way ticket back down to earth, and I shake my head, clearing the thoughts.

“I was tired,” I lie. “That first game back wore me out.”

“I swear, easily ten girls came up and asked me where you were. As if I wasn’t right there, ready and willing.”

I huff a smile and laugh. “Did you fuck?”

“In the bathroom.”

“Of Rowdy’s ?” He wiggles his eyebrows and I feel mine pinch together. “There’s barely even a sink in that bathroom.”

“No, but the floors are covered in old beer, and that shit is stickier than glue.” He leans forward, sets his coffee on the table in front of him, and puts his hands out in front of his hips like he’s holding on to something. “I just planted my feet and mm, mm, mm. ” He thrusts his hips.

I drop my head on the cushion behind me, barking out a laugh. “You’re sick.”

He opens his mouth, but a loud moan interrupts our conversation. It’s part feminine, part animal. I whip my head to the side before realizing it’s coming from the only bedroom on the main level.

“Fucking Mav.” I drag my fingers through my hair and Silas reaches forward, turning up the volume on the remote.

“That’s fake, right? Either I’ve been doing it wrong or he’s got a paid actress up there.”

“Well, considering you fucked against the wall in stale beer, I’d say it might be a little bit of both.”

Silas chucks a pillow at me, but I catch it easily.

Fifteen minutes into Pardon the Interruption and the door to Maverick’s room opens. He winks when he sees us, but the girl following behind him in a slightly wrinkled white top doesn't even notice us.

“Not what I was expecting,” I mumble out of the side of my mouth.

“You think the accountant outfit is part of her role-playing?” Silas whispers back.

Mav walks her to the door, dips his head, and pecks her lips once, twice, and on the third kiss, she wraps her arms around his neck and jumps on him. Her legs wrap around his bare torso, and he holds her up with one arm while the other stays planted on the door frame.

Silas and I both turn our attention back to the TV, listening to Tony Kornheiser talk like he’s the most interesting guy in the world.

After a moment, the door clicks shut and Maverick absently rubs his chest as he heads into the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you invite your office manager to stay for breakfast? She seemed lovely,” I say with a sarcastically sweet smile.

“You liked that, aye?” He pours himself a coffee. Unlike me, he doesn’t skip the creamer. “I didn’t see—or hear—anyone in your room this morning.”

“I’m surprised you could hear anything with all that yelling going on in your room,” Silas interrupts.

“What can I say?” Maverick rolls his eyes, sticks his tongue out, and wags it back and forth.

“Don’t puff your chest, no one believes those screams were real.” I smile around my mug.

“Oh, yeah? So her honeypot just always feels like a summer day in Mississippi?”

“Jesus.” Silas shakes his head, crossing his ankles on the coffee table.

Maverick leans his elbow on the kitchen counter, not bothering to hide his smile. “What’d you do after you followed the tequila thief out last night?”

He knows I left, he just doesn’t know that I came straight home and went to bed.

I watched Savannah weave her way through the crowd with her friend, and it wasn’t until she was out the door and fully out of sight that I realized three eager girls were surrounding me.

Silas and Mav were able to move on, but I suddenly lost interest in being there.

Silas turns to face me, and I know I’m about to be the center of their ridicule now. I disregard both of them, sinking further into the couch, hoping to quickly get out of the shit storm they’re going to throw my way.

“She was hot,” Mav says, but I continue to ignore the rise he’s trying to get out of me. “If you didn’t follow her home, I definitely would have.”

“What was her name, again?” Silas chimes in. “Sienna? Serena?”

Maverick grins as Silas plays along. “It doesn’t matter, I would just be yelling out ‘ That’s it, baby ’ when I’m balls deep in?—”

I see red. “First of all, she wouldn’t have given you a second look after the way you were drooling all over her friend.

And second, her name’s Savannah, and she’s cool so stop fuckin’ talking about her like that.

” I’m half off the couch pointing my finger at him when I finally take in his shit-eating grin.

I look to my left and Silas’s mouth hangs open, but the corners of his lips are lifted.

Goddamnit.

“Aw, buddy. You fell for his shit.” Silas ruffles my hair as he passes me, heading to the kitchen.

“So, what? You got a girlfriend now?” Maverick bats his eyelashes and kicks his feet up. Silas laughs along with him, but I’m telling myself it’s more at him .

I might not have hated the idea of it last night.

Even now, in my chilly but sunlit living room, the idea doesn’t completely turn me off—but when I commit to something, I have to give it my full attention.

It’s the way I’ve been wired my whole life.

Between hockey and classes, I’ve never had time to give anything else my full attention, let alone a relationship.

A hook-up here and there is all I’ve had time for.

All I’ve cared for, honestly, but between that little outburst and how much I enjoyed last night, I don’t have it in me to argue with them, because they’re right.

I can hope it’s just a case of wanting what you can’t have and hoping it goes away, but the desire to talk to her and the craving to be near her are definitely there.

I don’t know what that means, because no one has caught my interest for longer than an hour or two, but I can’t deny that I am interested.

I grab my coffee and pass them as I head up the stairs. “You guys are assholes,” I call over my shoulder, and their answering laughs and kissing noises cut off when I shut the door to my room.