Page 2 of Breakaway Goal

My lips curl higher. I’m practically rubbing my hands together, like I’m still a juvenile middle school boy who gets a kick out of scaring his best friend’s sister.

Thanks to my tattoos, well-earned reputation for rough play on the ice, and usually terse demeanor, most people wouldn’t think of me as someone who likes to play pranks. But Maddie’s one of the few people I feel like I can be my real self around.

Before the girls head outside, though, I hear another voice. And it’s one that has my grin turning into a scowl.

“Hmph,” it huffs derisively. “You’relooking to get Lane’s or Rhys’s attention? Good luck.”

The words are dripping in haughty sarcasm, an exact tone I’ve heard way too many times at parties like these.

I peek through the open door to confirm what I’d suspected: Gina Hillis and her coterie of jersey chasers are sneering at Maddie and Jasmine from across the kitchen island they’re all standing around.

“Yeah,” a girl standing next to Gina in a similar skin-tight dress and exuding the same Mean Girl attitude sneers. “Get in the back of the line.Wayin the back.”

“Yeah,” a third girl adds very unoriginally, sputtering a laugh as her eyes elevator judgmentally up and down Maddie.

I’m way better acquainted with these girls than I’d like to be. Any time a Brumehill sports team throws a party, they’re there with one goal on their minds: hooking up with the most popular player they can sink their claws into that night.

And, hey, if they were just girls who happened to have a thing for guys who play sports, I sure as hell wouldn’t judge. But it’spurely about an ego trip for these girls. And with those puffed-up egos, they spread negativity wherever they go, judging other girls who don’t meet their imaginary standards and treating anyone other than superstar athletes like shit.

Maddie’s the type to turn the other cheek when someone’s rude to her for no reason, but I know her friend Jasmine well enough to sense that she’s about to give those stuck-up puck bunnies a piece of her mind.

But I don’t let her.

In a second, my strides eat up the distance between us, and suddenly I’m right next to Maddie, slinging my arm snugly around her shoulders, pulling her close to me, and looking at my best friend’s little sister with a flirty grin that’s calculated to evoke jealousy from the three girls on the other side of the counter.

“Maddie,” I say, putting a low, coy rumble into my voice, “there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

She glances up at me with a bewildered look on her face. When our eyes lock for the first time tonight, and I feel like I could drown in the bright blue pool of her gaze, I have to remind myself that looking at her like this—like I’m starving and she’s the snack I’ve been dreaming about all day—is just an act to knock Gina down a peg.

I shoot her a wink and wiggle my eyebrows a bit, hoping to get the message across. Her forehead crinkles slightly, then her eyebrow perks up like she’s catching on.

“Oh, Rhys,heyyy,” Gina coos from across the counter. Her voice is seductive and syrupy sweet—the kind of over-sweet that turns your stomach.

There’s an obvious hint of desperation in her voice, too. An insecure eagerness to seize my attention from the girl she just claimed could never warrant it.

I turn to Gina and her two hangers-on and give them the most dismissive look I can muster. I knit my brow, scrunch my nose, flatten and curl my lips like I’ve just caught a whiff of garbage on a hot summer afternoon.

Then, without even a word to dignify their presence, I turn my head back to Maddie.

My expression softens, and I make damn sure to beam a megawatt grin at her that the Mean Girl wannabees can’t possibly miss.

I lean closer to Maddie, picking up a whiff of vanilla from her hair that has my lower ab muscles clenching, and that reaction is no act.

“Didn’t I tell you I wanted to see you the second you got here … to show youmy room?”

Her eyes go wider with shock at my audacity. I have to tighten my grin to keep from laughing, both at Maddie’s reaction and at the envy palpably radiating from the girls who just dissed her.

I also have to fight to keep my cock from twitching at the way Maddie’s delicate, slender shoulders feel under my arm, at how good the contours of her body feel as she’s nestled against my side.

“Oh, right,” Maddie says, her words tentative like the steps of someone shuffling onto an ice rink for the first time. “Your room …”

Now I really have to struggle not to laugh. Maddie’s got a shit load of talents—way more than I do—but improv isn’t one of them.

“Well,” I say, my voice bordering on a growl now, picking up Maddie’s slack when it comes to selling this interaction for our little audience, “let’s not waste any more time.”

Then, not wanting to leave Maddie’s friend out of the performance, I turn to Jasmine. I bounce my eyebrows as Ipretend to elevator my gaze up and down her appreciatively, shooting her a conspiratorial wink that I can tell she picks up on.

“And you,” I drawl, “I’ll be seeingyoulater.”

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