Page 44 of Stick It
I swear one corner of his lips quirks, the tension between us fizzling out.
“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up his index, middle, and ring fingers.
I roll my eyes. “Of course you were a Boy Scout.”
Grinning, he even seems to stand straighter, as though, by apologizing, he shed the weight of his guilt.
Exhaling heavily, I rattle off my number, and he punches it into his phone, relief flickering briefly in his eyes.
“For the record,” I say, my voice quieter now. “I spent the night with a friend.”
Ethan nods, slipping his phone into his pocket a second after mine vibrates against my ass. I’m guessing he texted me, so I have his number too. “Good.”
“You should get some sleep,” I add when the moment grows fraught between us once more. “You look like shit.”
He scoffs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Carter. Quite a way with words, you’ve got there.”
Despite everything, I smile. It’s small, fleeting, but it’s there. For the first time since the party, it feels like I can breathe.
Maybe I can rely on more than just Wren to help me survive this season.
Maybe, for the first time, I can trust my captain.
And if I’m lucky, perhaps by the end of the year, I’ll have the support of my team.
14
FINN
The crowd is roaring,but I can’t hear it. All I hear is the scrape of blades, the slap of the puck, and the dullthudof bodies slamming into the boards. My blood’s already running hot, and it’s not just because this is our first game of the season.
It’sthem.
Our greatest rivals: Northern Summit Glaciers.
I hate everything about them—their smug attitudes, dirty hits, and how they skate around like they own the ice. They think they’re hot shit, when really, all they are is…shit. It used to give me a sick sense of satisfaction, knowing that they had a girl on the team—how much it likely pissed them off.
But now the roles are reversed.
Guess the joke is on me.
With the stick in my hand and the hint of blood, metal, and cold ice in my nostrils, I’m at home. This is where I thrive. Where chaos reigns. As I push down on my skates, chasing the puck down the rink, the roar of the crowd is muted, like it’s happening underwater. There’s nothing but the sound of my steady breath in my ears, the hollow clunk of the puck as it collides with my stick, and the blue crease up ahead.
Except tonight, something feels…off.
One of the Glaciers crashes into me before I can line up the shot, sending me tumbling into the boards while another snatches up the puck before I can recover.
Cursing, I take chase.
The Glaciers have always been our biggest rivals. Not because they are as good as we are—which they aren’t—but because our universities are situated a measly twenty miles apart. It has created an intense rivalry that has withstood the centuries. Even during an exhibition game, such as tonight.
However, this year, there’s something different.
This year, there’s Dylan.
I don’t recall playing against her before, but her low stats and vague comment about having to fight her teammates for the puck suggest that she didn’t see much ice time at NSU.
The same can’t be said for her time as a Steelhawk.
