Page 7 of Beyond the Lines
It’s... moving?
No, not just moving. Breathing.
I whirl around and find myself face-to-chest with someone who is definitely not a wall, though he’s built like one. I tilt my head back, following the line of a very nice chest up to a face that makes my breath catch.
No, I tell myself firmly.No, no, no. Remember the embargo.
“Sorry,” I say, though I doubt he can hear me clearly over the music. “I thought you were a wall.”
“I get that a lot, actually.” His lips twitch, and I wonder if I’m about to make a connection with someone, despite the embargo. “I?—”
But before he can finish his sentence, his face goes slack. Then green. Then?—
Oh no.
I leap back just in time as he doubles over and vomits spectacularly, missing my wedge sandals by inches. The nearby crowd parts like the Red Sea, creating a circle of horrified onlookers around us. More than one person shouts at him that it’s not cool to hurl inside, but I’m more focused on making sure to avoid it.
The maybe-wall-maybe-cute-guy straightens up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I... I don’t feel so good,” he mumbles, then throws up again.
And this is why I swore off boys, I think as I back even further away from the growing puddle.And parties.
After one last scan for Em or anyone else I recognize from earlier, panic starts to creep in. The air feels thick, heavy with the collective body heat of too many people packed into too small a space. My skin prickles with sweat, and the sweet-sour smell of spilled drinks and puke isn’t helping, either.
I pull out my phone and type a quick message to Em:
Getting out of here. Text me when you’re done living your best life.
No immediate response. Not surprising.
I spot a sliding glass door through the crowd and make my way toward it, dodging elbows and drinks with the agility of someone who really,reallydoesn’t want to end up wearing a stranger’s beer. The door leads to a backyard that’s also full of people, though noticeably fewer than inside.
The music is muffled out here, and the night air feels like heaven against my overheated skin. I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. But, as my body cools and my mind calms, I suddenly get cold. The dress that’d seemed perfect for dancing now feels woefully inadequate.
“I shouldn’t have let Em talk me into this,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself.
But any anger or resentment flares out quickly. I don’t owe Em or the others anything. Hell, I barely know them, and part of their college journey is finding their own path, as much as mine will be. And despite the party being a flop, the rest of my first day on campus at Pine Barren has been pretty great.
Em included.
The thought of her makes me check my phone. Still nothing in response to my message. The others are probably having the time of their lives, and I’m out here still feeling sorry for myself after Chris broke my heart, all the while standing next to an inflatable kiddie pool full of... is that Jell-O?
College is weird.
And I’m about to leave the party in my dust when I’m startled by a male voice behind me.
“Hey.”
two
DECLAN
First practice,and I’m already feeling it.
After Linc fires off a pass, the puck hits my stick with a satisfyingthwack, and I’m already moving before my brain catches up. Pure instinct takes over as I weave between Maine and Mike, my skates carving clean lines across the fresh ice.
I spot an opening and take it, winding up for a shot on goal. Rook—still green enough to fall for it—takes the bait. When he’s anticipating a high shot, his shoulders tense just slightly. Currently, they’re as loose as a freshman at their first kegger, and there may as well be a neon sign pointing at the net.
I fire the puck high and left.
