Page 8 of The Rule Breaker
I’m about to shove him when a sharp shout cuts through the music. My head snaps toward the far end of the room, where Cole has some guy pinned against the wall, fists clenched. “Fuck my life,” I mutter, already pushing off the couch.
Nathan’s arm shoots out, pressing a hand against my chest before I can take another step. “I got it.”
My jaw tightens, but I let him handle it, watching as he grabs Cole’s arm and yanks him back. This isn’t new. Cole’s got a temper. Loves to fight. He’s a right-wing for a reason.
Across the room, Tommy, the frat leader, sneers, beer sloshing over the rim of his cup. “Fucking told you hockey pricks,” he says, jabbing a finger in Cole’s direction. “If one of you started shit, you wouldn’t be welcome here anymore. Get the fuck out.”
Cole’s jaw flexes, his hands balling into fists. “Fuck you.” He shoves Tommy back a step. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Tommy blinks, lifting a brow. “Yeah? I’m sure your coach would love to hear about his underage players getting wasted at some random frat party.”
Nathan tightens his grip on Cole’s arm, but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in. “And I’m sure the school would love to hear about all the underage drinking going on in this house.” His smirk widens. “This shit goes both ways,Tommy.”
Tommy’s jaw ticks. A second passes. Then another.
Finally, he exhales sharply, flicking his gaze to Nathan. “Get him out before you’re all kicked out.”
Nathan tugs at Cole’s arm. “Come on, man. It’s not fucking worth it.”
Cole stays rigid, muscles tight like he’s still debating whether to throw a punch. But after a tense beat, he exhales sharply through his nose and lets Nathan pull him toward the exit.
I drag a hand down my face and blow out a breath. I knew I shouldn’t have come out tonight. If I’d just stayed in, I wouldn’tbe dealing with this shit, I wouldn’t be freaking out about tomorrow and?—
“Hey, Ryan.”
The sound of my name cuts through my thoughts. I turn, finding two girls beside me, both flashing bright smiles.
“Hey,” I say, forcing one of my own.
The brunette steps closer, her eyes twinkling. “Good luck in the game tomorrow.”
Christ. I wish someone—anyone—would talk to me about something other than hockey for once in my life. It’s all I ever think about. I came here tostopthinking about it.
“Thanks,” I manage, forcing a half-smile.
Her friend, the one with light orange hair, places a hand on my arm, tilting her head. “You must be so nervous.”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Nah, I’m fine. Just trying to relax a little?—”
“You look so hot in your hockey gear,” the brunette interrupts, tugging her glossy lip between her teeth, eyeing me like I’m her next meal.
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. I’ve heard that one about eighty times freshman year. Nice to know it still works for some girls. Not on me, though. Not tonight. Right now, all I want is to get the hell out of here and take a hot shower.
“Thanks,” I mutter, already scanning the room for an exit. My gaze lands on Austin, who’s laughing with a girl curled up next to him, looking like he’s having the time of his life.
“Want us to help you release some tension?” The brunette’s voice drops, a playful lilt in her tone.
I glance down at them both, her friend grinning at the question, andgod, this is every guy’s dream.
I push away from them, offering a tight smile. “I’ve got a massage gun at home, but thanks.”
Their expressions shift, dropping at the rejection. I feel the awkwardness hang in the air before I turn away, squeezing through the crowd toward the exit.
I don’t know why I thought coming out tonight would help clear my head. It hasn’t. I’m not the same guy I was in freshman year. I can’t just forget about hockey and party away like it’s?—
My rambling thoughts are interrupted when I get hit by someone and my skin chills as the liquid from their cup soaks into my shirt.
“Oh my god,” a female voice gasps. “I’m so sorry.”
