Page 39 of Stick It
Snorting a laugh, Kyle shakes his head. “I haven’t fucking touched you, man.”
“Consider this your only warning, then. That promise extends to her.” Griffin tilts his head in my direction. “Touch her, fuck with her, and it’ll beyouwho doesn’t see any ice time this season.”
Like the idiot he is, Kyle waves off Griffin’s warning like he’s swatting a fly. “Fuck off, Griff. This isn’t your fight.” Raking his gaze pointedly over me, he tacks on, “She’s not worth it.”
I bristle.Fucking asshole. But I know better than to rise to the bait. I already caved once to him, I won’t give him that satisfaction again. Won’t give him the opportunity to tell Coach that I’m starting shit. Causing issues.
Griffin doesn’t move. He shows no outward response to Kyle’s words. He may as well not have spoken at all. Not that Kyle waits long for a retort, before raising his voice, once again appealing to the crowd, hungry for drama.
“You want to know how she got that spot?” He asks loudly, smirking menacingly at me before he spins to address those gathered behind him. His voice drips with mockery as he declares, “It’s because she slept with the coach.”
The yard erupts. Gasps, laughter, murmurs—all blending together to form a twisted symphony.
My vision tilts, the world around me stuttering in and out of focus. I can’t feel the ground beneath my feet, and my ears ring, my shallow breaths all that I can hear.
Not again.
This can’t be happening again.
I shove past Kyle, unsteady on my feet and nausea churning precariously in my stomach. I have to get out of here.
“She didn’t even deny it,” he calls after me, voice smug with triumph. His words slice through the ringing in my ears. I don’t look back. I can’t.
I shove through the crowd, uncaring of who I’m crashing into. Faces twist as I push past, disgust curling lips, eyes narrowing in judgment, sneers cracking across mouths I don’t recognize. Someone spits the word“Slut”under their breath. Another snorts, “Figures.” A girl glares at me like I’ve confirmed every nasty rumor she’s ever heard.
I crash into someone and mutter a frantic apology before I look up. My breath catches in my throat. It’s Finn. His face is hard, brows dipped in confusion. I find myself scouring his face, hoping for…something. Whatever it is I’m looking for, I don’t find it. His lips are pressed in a flat line, eyes shuttered. Disappointment sinks like a weight in my stomach. He believes Kyle’s lies.
We stare at each other for a beat, and as time stretches, something shifts in his eyes, the pulling back of a curtain. Concern, tentative and unsure, seeps through the hardness. Lifting his head, his gaze darts around us, as if only just realizing the mob of people pushing in, baying for my blood.
He steps forward, fingers reaching out for me, but the pressure of the bodies around me surges forward, pushing me away. I lose sight of him as hands shove me back. The crowd closes in, bodies pressing in from all sides. My throat burns. My skin itches. My lungs won’t expand.
I can’t breathe. I can’t?—
There’s the sound of scuffling and anoomphfrom somewhere behind me. A fight, maybe. I don’t stop to look.
I keep pushing forward.Away. Away.
Half blind, I stumble through the house and out the front door, practically falling into the street. People mill about, wandering between house parties, oblivious to the wreckage inside, but it’s quieter out here than the backyard.
I suck in lungfuls of air, my vision still spotty, and as I fumble to pull my phone from my back pocket, I realize myhands are trembling. I stare at them for a long moment before shifting my focus to the black screen.
Then, I call the only number I can think of.
“I swear to God, Dylan,” Wren fumes, waving her arms around as she marches back and forth in front of the sofa I’m curled up on. She was the only person I could think of to call—the only BSU student I know and trust enough to consider a friend. Being the awesome person that she is, she immediately told me to come over.
I’d expected her to give me a dorm name and room number, but it turns out Wren lives alone in a tiny apartment tucked in the heart of Blackstone, on a quiet street lined with cobblestones and tall stone buildings. Independent bookshops and cozy little cafés press in around her building like something out of a postcard. It’s the kind of place that feels removed from everything, like the rest of the world can’t quite reach it.
If only that were true.
My knees are pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped around them, with my chin resting on top as I watch her fume.
“If I ever see that asshole, I’m going to—” She breaks off, fists clenched and practically vibrating with rage. “No. You know what? Iamgoing to see him. I’m going to hunt his sorry ass down, and I’ll—I don’t know—slash his tires? Superglue his helmet to his head? Shove a stick so far up his ass he whistles through his teeth?”
Despite everything, a laugh escapes me—weak, but real. “I think that last one might be a felony.”
She stops pacing, rounding on me with wide, furious eyes. “Don’t laugh! He humiliated you in front of everyone. If you think I’m letting him get away with this?—”
“I know,” I interject, voice pathetically defeated. “I was there, remember?” Shaking my head, I force strength into my next words. “It’s fine,” I tell her.God, how I wish I believed that. “It’s not like there’s any proof.”
