Page 8 of Fault Line

“Invite only? What are these guys—fucking celebrities?”

“I mean, kinda? They have to be careful with who they let inside.” Her tone sounds so matter-of-fact, like we should all just agree that hockey players deserve the royal treatment. “One wrong move and it could cost them their spot on the team. And then, eventually, their entire careers.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I agree with a shrug, unwilling to argue semantics at this time of night.

“Don’t worry, you’ll—”

She’s cut off by the double doors swinging open in front of us. A tall guy with tan skin and dark hair greets us with a smile; it’s brilliant and huge, one of the most genuine I’ve seen coming from a complete stranger.

“Hey, ladies, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rai.” He slides a phone out of his back pocket, pulling up what I can only assume is an invite list. He peers down at the device, tapping his foot, casually flicking his thumb across the screen as he asks, “Can I get your names?”

“Lizzie Davis and Kaia Karras,” my roommate confidently rattles off, attempting to charm him with a sweet, glossy smile of her own.

Rai’s head darts up, one brow shooting skyward. “Sorry, did you just say Karras?”

I rear back, carefully studying his mystified expression. “What, do you know my sister or something?”

His answering grin is nothing short of giddy—there’s an almost creepy, unrestrained glint in his eye now—but I have no fucking clue what he could be so happy about. It’s strange considering the fact that I’ve never seen this man before in my life.

“Or something.” He rapidly taps out a text before slipping his phone back into his pocket. As he sidesteps next to us, one of his giant arms wraps around our shoulders, guiding us inside the open doorway. “Come in, come in. It’s gonna be a great night.”

4

HOLDEN

If I getone more text from Rai telling me to get my ass downstairs, then I’m going to bang my head against my bedroom wall. I already explained that I wanted a chill night to myself for once. I had a rough week, I’m tired, and I don’t feel like drinking.

I’d be fine socializing with just the guys, but I don’t even know half of the people here right now.

I let Rai and our other roommates, Bodie and Will, host this party because it’s a tradition for us. It’s the last big drinking night before the season officially starts. And the guys really needed to let off some steam, too. I don’t mind the noise or the chaos generally, but Rai needs to learn that no means no.

I’m not going down there, no matter how many times he begs me to.

Stretching my legs out on my king-sized bed, I use my PS4 controller to scroll through Netflix on the big screen. I’m looking for something high-action, with an excessive number of explosions and car chase scenes to drown out the pop music. Something loud and chaotic.

There’s never anything good to watch, but at least I’ll have some decent background noise while I scroll through my phone.

As I make my final selection, my bedroom door swings open, and a very confused girl stumbles inside. She has dark, shoulder-length hair, a short skirt that accentuates her hips, and legs that go on for days—ones that I’d recognize anywhere.

“Karras?” Cocking an amused brow, I toss my controller to the side, pleasantly surprised—and equally confused—by the intrusion. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” She mumbles something unintelligible, but I’m fairly certain it’s derogatory. “I’m guessing this isn’t the fucking bathroom, is it?”

I chuckle, gesturing toward my splayed-out position on the bed. Inside my room, there’s a flat-screen TV and a well-stocked minifridge. My five-level bookshelves are lined with textbooks, trophies, and mementos from the last twenty-one years of my life.

It’s enormous, but seeing as I’m the one fronting two-thirds of the rent, the guys let me claim the main bedroom for myself.

“Not sure what kind of bathrooms you’ve been going in lately.”

“Your guy Rai, he told me to come up here.” She crosses her arms over her chest with a huff, pushing her tits directly into my line of sight. I strain to keep my gaze focused elsewhere. “Second door on the left, no?”

“That little fuckwit.” I can’t control my smirk. “He sent you in here on purpose. No wonder he’s been messaging me all night.”

“Very funny.” She stares at me with a blank expression. It takes her a few extra moments to fully register my words before she shakes her head, narrows her eyes, and asks, “Well, then?”

“Well, what?”

“Do you have a bathroom in here or not?”

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