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SHAWN

“Where are you going?” Jacob asks as I pass the door to the den. He’s slumped on the sofa in the dark, playing soft music like a sad thirty-something who has just been dumped. Hayes is nowhere to be found.

“Study group,” I say.

“Don’t you fucking start.”

I laugh but don’t share the truth. I don’t like lying to my brother, but omitting details is bearable. “You staying in to make doilies or some shit?” I ask. “Crocheting to jazz?”

“Fuck you.” He tosses a throw pillow at me, but it’s a half-hearted attempt that barely misses his own head.

“Well. Don’t wait up.”

“Shawn…” His voice sounds tight, and I duck my head to study him closer. The tightness of his brow isn’t new, but his skin looks pale in the glow of the hallway light.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think is going on with Hayes?”

“Our baby brother’s growing up,” I say. “Keeping secrets from the adults of the family is a totally normal part of teen development.”

When Jacob snorts, it’s a relief. “You’re not keeping shit from me, are you?”

“Nah, bro. You know me. I’m an open book.”

He shifts on the sofa, grunting like his body is hurting. That’s not unusual after a game, but we only had practice today. Maybe he’s still carrying bruises since Friday night. “We only have each other,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. “We can’t ever take that for granted.”

“I don’t,” I reply firmly, gripping the doorjamb with guilty fingers. I know I’m not doing anything wrong by wanting a private life, and neither is Hayes. It doesn’t mean I love my brothers any less or that I’d put anyone else before them. But Jacob has a rigid understanding of loyalty and love. It means total transparency and nothing and no one else ever being a priority. While I understand the reasons for his beliefs, I don’t agree with them. We’re not kids anymore, and this level of sibling intensity isn’t sustainable.

We might have grown up in the same house with the same parents, but we didn’t have the same experience. Dad was hardest on Jacob, who took it upon himself to shield us from the worst of the verbal abuse. Jacob craved our mom’s attention the most, and when she was withdrawn and chose other relationships instead of us, the disappointment cut him deep.

A psychiatrist would have a field day with our childhoods, but there’s no way Jacob would confess to any kind of weakness. To the outside world—even to himself—he’s bulletproof. As his brother, I’m well aware that reality is totally different.

***

It’s a clear night, and I need a clear head, so I walk to meet Riley. There are a lot of decent bars in town where we could have met: The Red Devil, where Jacob first spotted Riley; O’Connor’s, which is too loud and sporty for the kind of night I’d wanted to have; Sugar Plums, which is a soul-jazz venue filled with flowers and pink accents—too romantic—and my favorite, Spencer’s, which isn’t a student hangout.

I guess the prospect of me combined with alcohol was too much for Riley. Or maybe she wanted to get me into swim shorts again. I wonder if she’ll be wearing that one-piece. Just the memory of her in the form-fitting swimwear has everything below my waist flaring to life.

It’s polite to be early, and I’m inside fifteen minutes before we arranged, so I hang out in the locker room, swiping through my phone to kill time. The photo Malik was waving around this morning appears on my timeline, posted by a shared friend. I zoom in to get a closer look at my brother and the girl he was with, but I still can’t make out who it is.

With five minutes to go, I pad across the tiled floor to the pool area, finding it deserted again. This could be a sign that the universe wants us to have some alone time, or maybe Riley isn’t coming. I shower and then sit on the poolside, letting my legs splash in the warm water. Across the pool, the women’s changing room door opens, and Riley appears, this time in a bright pink one-piece that leaves very little to the imagination. It’s cut high on the leg, accentuating her hips and thighs, and has a cutout at the waist on one side, revealing gorgeous skin. She’s slow to smile, glancing around at our surroundings and noticing we’re alone. When she reaches the poolside, she jumps into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a second before emerging like a graceful mermaid.

Jesus.

Like she’s a magnet and I’m metal filings, every fiber of my being is drawn to her.

“Shawn,” she says as she swims towards me, a half-smile playing on her lips. With a face scrubbed of make-up and wet hair pulled into a twist at her nape, she has this simple glow about her, like something good inside is radiating out.

“Riley.” I grin, sliding into the water to meet her.

This really is the perfect date. We’re half-naked without undressing, and the water is warm and inviting. We can get close where there is no one around.

“I thought I’d find you swimming lengths.”

“I was waiting for you. Thought we could do them together.”

“Sounds good.” She starts to swim to the end of the pool, and I follow, cutting through the water in a crawl.

She smiles before pulling her goggles over her eyes, then pushes off, dipping into the water with each stroke. I follow, opening my eyes beneath the water, hitting a faster pace, and reaching the other end easily. I turn like a professional, emerging for long enough to spot Riley almost at the end, then focus on swimming. We lap each other, both caught up with the exertion of the exercise, until I’ve hit twenty lengths, and I haul myself out of the water, panting but satisfied. Rolling my shoulders, I find them loose and warm.

When Riley sinks onto the cool tiles beside me, swiping water from her face with her palms, I reach up and rub the back of my neck. For once, the usual swagger I carry around women is nowhere to be found. For whatever reason—history, desire, something to prove—I want this to go well. I want Riley to like me, not just tolerate me or be impressed by the surface-level charm or my hockey potential. I want her to see me, and that realization shakes me more than I care to admit.

“So, Shawn Drayton. You’ve got me here. What do you intend to do with me?”

“We’re in a public space, Riley. Have some decorum.”

She laughs, resting back on her outstretched arms, the tension leaving her body. That’s a good sign. I want her to be relaxed and happy.

“I don’t remember you being a swimmer.”

She glances sideways at me, then faces the end of the pool again. “I always loved swimming. My mom used to take me, and when she couldn’t anymore, my dad stepped in, understanding how much the routine meant to me. It keeps me strong, and it’s relaxing, you know.”

“It is. My brothers don’t get it. They prefer hitting the gym to keep in shape, but that’s like work to me. This is pure pleasure.”

She turns to look at me, her lips twitching into a small, almost mischievous smile. “Pleasure, huh? I thought you hockey bros know how to live.”

“Oh, we do,” I admit, letting the words hang between us. “But it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Riley arches a brow, her body language shifting slightly. “How do you mean?”

I lean back on my hands, matching her posture but keeping my eyes locked on hers. “You know how Christmas is the most magical time when you’re a kid? There are presents, and special food, and a whole load of other stuff you have once a year.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, imagine that Christmas was every day. The music, the food, the opening of presents would get old pretty quickly.”

“I guess.”

“That’s what it’s like when you play hockey. The sport is amazing. I love what I do. I love my team. I love that I share it all with my brothers. But the shit that comes with it that was great at the start—getting noticed, getting treated special, getting girls without trying—all of that feels exhausting now.”

She studies me, and I let my eyes travel over her body, following water rivulets as they drip over places I want to explore with my mouth. How is it that girls at frat parties and clubs who throw themselves at me are as interesting as shredded cardboard, but Riley looks like a gourmet dessert?

“So, you’re saying you’re tired of women?”

“Tired of a certain kind of interaction.”

She purses her lips, nodding, even while the rest of her body language screams disbelief. If I were a more manipulative man, this could be a great way of getting a girl to feel special. I remember an episode of Friends where a character was duped by a guy who used the same sob story about an ex over and over. I hate that shit, but it’s not uncommon where men are concerned.

“So, how come we’re here?”

“Well, I like swimming, and I like you…” I flash her my cheesiest Drayton grin.

Her response is a shake of her head, which dislodges a curing tendril from behind her ear. “Stop making eyes at me, Shawn.”

“I’m not in control of my eyes,” I say, holding a hand to block my vision. “They go where they want when they want. They’re kind of perverted. I really should gouge them out.”

“I think that might be taking it a little too far.” When I drop my hand, Riley’s sliding back into the water. I follow, grateful for the warmth, and we tread water, staring at each other.

“Looking at you now… it’s like going back to high school as a college student. The place looks the same, but it’s different in a way you can’t quite put your finger on.”

She hooks her arm over the side of the pool, resting her back in the corner. I anchor myself next to her and move close enough that our knees brush beneath the surface.

“Maybe you’re different,” she says softly.

“You were always pretty.”

She scoffs and shakes her head like I’m the world’s biggest bullshitter.

“You were,” I insist. “You had these deep brown eyes that seemed to hold a lifetime of hurt.”

“Poetry isn’t your strength.”

“And this skin with a dusting of freckles.” I slide my wet index finger down the bridge of her nose, watching her eyelids lower. She still has freckles, like a sprinkle of stardust across the center of her face.

“And…”

“You can stop now,” she interrupts. “The charm… that thing you do that gets all those other girls into bed. It’s not going to work on me.”

“No?”

Riley rolls her eyes, focusing on a point over my shoulder. Despite her objections, I move even closer, bracketing her between my outstretched arms.

The air between us is charged, all the playful tension giving way to heavier, more tangible intentions. When her gaze drops briefly to my lips, my heart picks up, and my dick thickens. It could happen. I could kiss Riley. I could taste her sassy mouth and get the length of me pressed up against the length of her. My hands could slide over unexplored territory.

The water ripples as I move even closer, crowding her. She doesn’t retreat; she just watches me, her breath hitching slightly as I reach out, my fingertips tracing the curve of her collarbone.

“Shawn,” she murmurs, quieter now, almost unsure.

“Yeah?” I say, my voice low. My finger dips just beneath the strap of her swimsuit, skimming the damp fabric.

She exhales sharply, tilting her head slightly as if weighing whether to let this moment go further. Then, just as I think she’s about to lean into me, her expression hardens, and she pushes lightly against my chest, creating a few inches of space between us.

“Let me ask you something,” she says, her tone suddenly sharper. “Did you and your brothers make some kind of pact? Like, an agreement to play games with me?”

I blink, her question throwing me completely off balance. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” she snaps, her frustration chilling the moment. “First Jacob, with his arrogant attempt to seduce me. Then Hayes last night... and now you.” She shakes her head, her voice rising slightly. “I don’t like games, Shawn. I’m not here to be a trophy in whatever weird competition you three are running.”

Her words hit me like a slap, but it’s the name she drops that really lands. Hayes? Last night?

“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “What does Hayes have to do with this?”

She lets out a disbelieving laugh, brushing a hand over her face like she can’t believe I don’t know. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

I lower my chin, tipping my head to the side. “I promise you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stares as her gaze searches my expression for truth or lies. “He didn’t tell you?”

“I saw my brother this morning, and he looked like somebody had eaten his birthday cake before he blew out the candles. Did something happen between you two?”

The prospect of Hayes and Riley fills me with a rush of jealousy that I struggle to contain. My hands tighten around the pool edge, and I brace my feet against the wall, holding myself immovable.

“He took me out last night, but it was all just a game. He was trying to win some contest with you and Jacob. Scoring points. Marking territory, but I’m not fucking Everest, Shawn, and this… this pretense that you’re not doing exactly the same thing…”

“I’m not. I promise you.”

She scoffs. “Drayton promises don’t mean much to me.”

Her words leave me reeling, my stomach knotting as I try to understand what she’s saying. I fight against the instinct to defend myself because this dispute is clearly rooted elsewhere. “Riley,” I say in a low, careful tone, “that doesn’t sound like Hayes. He’s not like that.”

“Oh, come on, Shawn.” Her voice is sharp, her eyes blazing as she jabs a finger in my direction. “You’re telling me your golden-boy brother didn’t view me as a way to one-up you? That he wasn’t gloating over breakfast this morning. Give me a break.”

“I’m serious,” I insist, my voice rising slightly. “Hayes doesn’t play games like that. If he was with you, it’s because he really likes you, and whatever happened between you two left him down. He was…” I don’t know how much I should say to betray Hayes’ trust. “What happened between you?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, but I don’t believe her. No girl gets so wound up about nothing.

“You kissed?”

“You know, because he told you. Bet you had some laughs over your Lucky Charms, didn’t you? Hayes gets to third base. Maybe Shawn can hit a home run.”

“Jesus, Riley.”

I drop my head and take a deep breath. Not only have I kept secrets from my brothers, but Hayes has done the same, and now we’re in a situation where we want the same girl.

“I just… I wanted to test how far you’d go. I wanted to confirm that you haven’t changed… that I’m right about you and tell you to stay away from me.”

“This is all a big misunderstanding,” I say. Riley scoffs, folding her arms across her chest, but I press on. “I don’t remember when Hayes was last with a girl. He keeps his personal life close to his chest, always. So close that me and Jacob thought he might still be a virgin.”

She blinks quickly, and a few droplets flick from her long eyelashes.

“I can’t believe you thought this was a setup. I can’t believe that’s what you think of us.”

“That’s it, Shawn. Turn it all around. Classic tactics.”

She tries to duck under my arm, but my instinct is to crowd her more. I need her to understand that she’s got us all wrong. Doesn’t she remember that we were good kids? Doesn’t she know that we’d never play games like this?

I duck my head so we’re almost nose to nose, forcing her to look right into my eyes. “Riley. I didn’t know. Hayes didn’t share. You’ve. Got. It. All. Wrong.” I say the last part so she has to consider each word, and her shoulders drop a fraction, but before I can read into it, I blurt out a stupid question. “Did you enjoy it?”

She looks at me, startled. “What?”

“What you did with Hayes,” I say, my voice quieter now. “Did you enjoy it?”

She hesitates for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Until he made me feel like shit.”

I push my breath through tight lips as the weight of her words settle over me like a punch to the gut. This close, I can still smell her vanilla and rose scent and sense the heat radiating from her body. All my desire for her is still there, magnified even because it’s layered with a need to claim her for myself. Jealousy can be a powerful aphrodisiac. So, instead of pulling away, I lean in, lowering my head until our faces are inches apart.

“Then let me give you something to compare it to,” I murmur, and before she can respond, I press my lips to hers.

She gasps softly against my mouth, her hands coming up to push against my chest, but there’s no real force behind it. After a moment, her resistance melts, and she kisses me back, her lips soft and warm against mine.

The kiss is everything I’ve wanted since the moment she came into our lives again. It’s swelling heat and clawing need. It’s the past and present colliding, fantasies becoming reality. But just as I start to deepen the kiss, Riley pulls back, breathing raggedly as she looks up at me, her expression torn.

“I can’t,” she says, shaking her head. “This is... we shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.”

“Riley,” I start, but she’s already pushing away, moving down the side of the pool. “Listen…”

She pulls herself out of the water, and just as I’m about to follow, three other students make their way from the men’s locker room and invade our privacy, and my chance is gone.

All I can do is watch her leave.