Page 22 of The Rule Breaker (Colton U Playbook #1)

RYAN

I try my best to avoid Greek row, given that they hate hockey players and think they run the school.

But the guys—or Austin, I should say—dragged me out of bed and threw a shirt at my face, telling me to get my ass up and stop wallowing in bed like a damn hermit.

I kinda wish I was Cole right now. Since that fight last month, he’s been banned from frat parties altogether. He’s probably at home, warm, comfortable, with no loud music and no girls shoving drinks in his face every two minutes. Lucky bastard.

Girls swarm towards us as soon as we walk in, their eyes glistening like we’re some rare species on display. They size us up, checking out the team.

“Hey,” Logan greets a blonde in the crowd, throwing her a flirty smirk that she returns right away.

When I first met him, I thought he’d be a dead end with girls.

He’s the rookie, younger than all of us, and I figured he’d be the one sitting on the sidelines while the rest of us did our thing.

But nope. The guy gets more action than anyone, except maybe Cole.

Who the hell knows what that guy does? He’s a fucking enigma.

Logan flashes his signature grin and swings an arm around her shoulder. “I’m Logan. Single. Hot. Solid eight inches.”

I roll my eyes, trying not to laugh.

Nathan scoffs and shakes his head. “Seriously? This is how you got two girls to go upstairs with you?”

Logan just winks at him. “Don’t pretend you’re not curious,” he teases, turning to face the blonde. “So, what’s your name?”

“Daniella,” she says, practically melting into his side.

Logan chuckles, pulling her in closer. “You like what you see?”

She hums and stands on her tiptoes, leaning in like she’s about to whisper something sweet in his ear. Instead, I hear it loud and clear. “I’d like it even more if there were no clothes in the way.”

I snort, shake my head, and take a sip of my drink. If some girl said that to me, I’d probably burst out laughing. I’m not about cheesy pick-up lines. I like girls who tease me, who talk about something other than fucking hockey. I like?—

“Izzy!”

My head snaps to the left so fast, I swear I hear my neck crack.

The noise of the party—laughter, the pulse of music, the clinking of glasses—fades into nothing. None of it matters. Not when she walks in.

My stomach tightens the second I spot her.

Goddamn, she looks like she’s been pulled straight out of my fucking fantasies.

She’s wearing a flowy, white top that hangs just right, and jeans that fit her like they were made for her body.

Fuck, her curls are back, bouncing with every step, looking soft as hell, and all I can think about is how I had my hands buried in them, pulling her closer, kissing her, tasting her, feeling her grind against me.

Isabella doesn’t even glance my way. Not a single look. It’s like I’m invisible, standing here like a ghost. And honestly? I fucking deserve it.

I’ve been avoiding her ever since that kiss.

Keeping my distance, trying to pretend it never happened.

For her sake, for Nathan’s, for my own damn sanity.

I thought it’d be easier this way—acting like we didn’t just tear down every line we had between us.

But I can’t forget it. It’s all I fucking think about.

I keep my eyes on Isabella, watching her walk past me like I don’t exist, and my stomach sinks.

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” Nathan says, lifting his chin toward her roommate. “Did you drag her out?”

Aurora scoffs. “Who else? If it wasn’t for me, she’d have stayed at home all night crying over a documentary.”

Isabella narrows her eyes. “The penguins were in love. It was sad, okay?”

I want to laugh, because it’s so like her to cry over penguins she’s never even met, but the tension in the air is thick, and I know better than to do that.

Austin swings his arm around my shoulder, shaking me slightly. “Same with this guy,” he says. “He wanted to stay at home tonight, but I dragged him out.”

Isabella’s eyes flick to mine. It’s brief—probably just a second—but in my mind, it feels like fucking hours.

I suck in a breath as I stare at her, those big brown eyes pulling me in, making everything else around me blur into nothing.

Her face—that gorgeous face I can’t stop thinking about—and those sweet, pink lips. God, I can still taste them.

I fucked up.

I messed around with my teammate’s little sister. First mistake.

Then I ignored her. Pretended like nothing happened. Second, and the biggest mistake of all.

I shift away from Austin, letting his arm drop.

“I need a drink,” I mutter, turning toward the drink table.

I don’t actually want a drink. I want to apologize to Isabella.

I want to kiss her again, to feel the rush of her lips against mine without any of the consequences hanging over us. But I can’t.

So, drink it is.

“Hey, man.”

I turn my head at the sound of a tap on my shoulder. It’s Dylan, one of the football guys. Normally, hockey and football players don’t tend to get along, but we’ve never given a shit about that.

“That was a hell of a hit last week. You good?”

I let out a sigh, my jaw tightening at the reminder. Not that anyone’s let me forget it. “Yeah, I’m good,” I mutter, nodding at him. “You know me. I’ll get back up.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, tell that to Jordan. The idiot gets hit once and sits out the whole season.” He scoffs.

“Football guys are weak, man,” I tease with a smirk as he laughs.

“Alright, alright, Reed’s got claws.”

I shrug, taking a sip of my beer. “I’m a wolf for a reason.”

He laughs, and I take another sip, my eyes scanning the room. That’s when I notice a group of girls staring at him, biting their lips and whispering. I can’t blame them—the guy is tall as hell with broad shoulders, deep brown skin, and has the kind of face that belongs on a movie poster.

“Fuck,” he groans, dragging a hand over his jaw, fingers brushing his goatee. “Who the hell is that?”

I follow his gaze, my stomach sinking when I see Isabella by the couch with Aurora. My heart stutters.

“The blonde?” I ask, hoping he says yes.

“The brunette.” Fuck . “The one with curls and incredible rack.”

Of fucking course he’s interested in her.

“That’s Isabella, Nathan’s sister,” I reply, gritting my teeth.

He lets out a low whistle, dragging a hand over his chin as a slow grin spreads across his face. “Damn. She’s hot.”

He’s not wrong—she is hot. But she’s more than that.

She’s beautiful in a way that knocks the air out of my lungs.

Has a laugh that I can’t get out of my head.

Scrunches her nose when she’s uncomfortable.

She’s smart, funny as hell, and one day, she’s going to own every room she walks into, whether it’s as a sports analyst, or running a team from behind the scenes.

But none of that matters to him. He doesn’t see her like I do. Doesn’t know her. And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve to want her the way I fucking do.

You had her In your arms, and you fucked it up.

Yeah, I fucking know.

Before I can react, Dylan’s already making a beeline for her.

And I just stand here… watching.

My stomach twists with every step he takes until he’s right in front of her. He’s smooth, I’ll give him that. Wears that cocky grin like armor, and somehow, she smiles back. At him.

The same smile that used to be mine.

My jaw tightens. My fingers clench around the red solo cup until the plastic creaks. Every word they trade, every laugh she lets slip, every time he leans in like he belongs there. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion, and I can’t look away.

She’s right there. Right fucking there. And I’m just standing here, watching her slip through my fingers while he makes it look easy. Like he doesn’t even have to try.

And it’s driving me insane.

I watch, like a glutton for punishment, as Dylan slides his hand around her waist and leans in to whisper something in her ear. She nods. Then lets him take her hand, following him toward the stairs like it’s nothing.

Blood floods my head, a roar building in my ears. The world blurs at the edges. My fists clench, muscles coiled so tight they might snap.

No. Fuck no.

She’s not going upstairs with him. I won’t let that happen.

I move before I can think. Shoving through the crowd, shouldering past bodies and brushing off whatever noise or looks I get. I don’t care. I don’t give a shit about the consequences anymore.

I just know I can’t lose her.

I take the stairs two at a time, and there she is—just reaching for the bathroom door.

Before she can disappear inside, I catch her wrist.

And without a word, I pull her into the nearest empty bedroom and shut the door behind us.

She whips around, eyes wide, breath catching in her throat when she finally looks at me.

“Ryan?” she breathes.

God, the way she says my name…

It’s been too damn long since I heard her voice, since we laughed, since I had my fingers tangled in her curls, teasing her like it was second nature.

I miss it.

I miss her.

I swallow hard, my hand tightening around the doorknob. “What the fuck were you doing with Dylan?”

Her expression shifts, hardens like steel. “You have no right to ask me that,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at me. “ You made it clear you regretted what happened.” She glances away, shrugs like it doesn’t cut deep. “And I told you I wanted a rebound.”

The words hit like a gut punch.

She was really going to do it, wasn’t she?

With him? In some stranger’s disgusting bathroom?

No.

She deserves better than that.

Bitterness slips in before I can stop it. “I thought you said you couldn’t sleep with someone you didn’t know?”

Her head snaps back to me, her eyes locking onto mine, and my heart stumbles.

“Yeah, well,” she says with a shrug, “I changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind, huh?” I almost want to scoff, but I hold it in, taking a step closer.

She’s so close now I can smell that sweet, familiar perfume—the one that’s been stuck in my head for weeks, driving me fucking insane.

“Too bad,” I murmur, my voice low as I lean in, closing the space between us until I can feel her breath on my skin. Her chest rises and falls quickly, and I feel the heat radiating off her. “Because I’ve changed mine.”

She blinks, my words working through her. I watch, waiting for it to click, and when it does, she shakes her head and takes a step back—only there’s nowhere to go.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice unsteady.

What am I doing?

Exactly what I should’ve done the first time I saw her.

What I wanted to do in the locker room, instead of walking away like a coward.

What I’ve wanted to do every damn time she’s near me.

And this time?

I’m not fucking running.

I reach out, curling my hand around the back of her neck, my thumb brushing softly over her skin.

She gasps, breath catching, and her eyes flick to my mouth—lips parted, glossy, so damn kissable it hurts.

A low groan rumbles in my chest as memories crash over me—her taste, her sounds, her body pressed tight against mine.

I can’t hold back anymore.

“Taking what I fucking want.”

Before she can react, I yank her against me, crashing my lips to hers.

Every second I’ve spent denying myself, every night I’ve laid awake thinking about her—it all explodes the second our mouths meet. She doesn’t stop me, doesn’t pull away. She melts into me, her fingers curling into my shirt, gripping me like she needs this just as badly.

A low groan rumbles in my chest as I tilt her head back, deepening the kiss, sliding my tongue between her parted lips. Fuck, she tastes good. Addictive. Like something I’ve been dying for but never let myself have.

It’s fire. It’s reckless. It’s perfect .

When I finally pull back, both of us gasping for breath, I take her in—the way her lips are swollen, the way her chest rises and falls too fast, the way she’s still clinging to me like she’s afraid I’ll move away.

I drag my thumb over her bottom lip, smirking when her breath catches.

“You want your rebound?” I let my lips brush against hers again, feeling her shiver. “You fucking got it.”