Page 36 of Icing on the Cake

I plod over to my locker stall but don’t bother getting dressed yet. I sit down on the bench and ignore the fact that my towel is growing damper by the minute. I clutch my face and will the dull pain away as more guys filter out of the shower.

“G, you sure you’re up for celebrating?” Oliver asks. “We can always do something low-key at the house and party hard another day.”

I gape at him. He knows as well as I do that a “low-key” thing at the house will turn into a rager. That’s how it always goes with this team.

“I’m up for it,” I say, though I’m not entirely convinced. “Just need a few more minutes.”

Oliver nods but doesn’t move away. “You know we won’t think less of you if you sit this one out.”

I sigh. “I know.”

He claps me on the shoulder and heads over to his locker between Drew and Kyle. They’re my best friends in the world, but right now, I kind of hate them for being whole and uninjured when I’m such a wreck.

Leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, I close my eyes and hang my head. Memories of past game nights flash through my mind—celebrating our first win as freshmen, dancing like idiots after making it to the Frozen Four, last season’s tear-filled bash when we sent off the seniors.

I open my eyes and stare at my feet. Getting dressed feels like climbing a mountain right now, but if I don’t make a move soon, someone will come over and drag me out half-naked.

Screw it.I stand up and immediately regret it as the room tilts on its axis. I close my eyes again and take a few deep breaths until things level out.

One night. That’s all it is. It won’t be the death of me.

8

ELLIOT

“Jackson!” I hiss as he takes off down the hall. “I’m not a jock. I don’t run.”

He screeches to a halt, his sneakers creating scuff marks on the pristine tiled floor, and scowls at me. “Pretend like the building is on fire.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because then you’ll run.”

“I’mnotrunning.” I walk at my usual pace—languidly—and Jackson rolls his eyes.

“For Pete’s sake.” He jogs back to me, his athletic shorts swishing with each stride.

Before I can protest, he grabs my hand in his larger one. “Jackson, what are you—” He takes off again, dragging me along like a rag doll. I nearly fall on my face, trying to match his pace. “Slow down!” I wheeze as we careen around a corner. The squeak of our sneakers against the polished floor is almost as loud as my heartbeat.

Jackson shoots me a mischievous grin over his shoulder. “Can’t. They’re gaining on us.”

I risk a glance behind me and nearly trip. Two burly securityguards have appeared at the end of the hall, their faces set in grim determination.

“This is ridiculous. They’re going to catch us.”

“Not if I can help it.” Jackson’s grip on my hand tightens as he pulls me through a set of double doors. We emerge in a dimly lit stairwell with concrete steps that disappear into the gloom above and below.

“Up or down?” My voice echoes in the cavernous space.

“Down. Definitely down.”

We take the stairs two at a time, and I’m pretty sure my lungs are about to explode. I haven’t done this much cardio since…never.

Just as we reach the bottom, the door above us bangs open. “They went this way!”

Jackson yanks me through another door, and we stumble into a deserted hallway. The air here is thick with the smell of sweat and stale popcorn. A sign on the wall to our left reads, “Security Offices.”

“We’re busted,” I moan as we creep past.

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