Page 32 of Stick It
“She…” Kyle’s voice has lost any amusement it held earlier, his eyes slicing through me. “So youcanplay on a girls’ team.”
My body goes rigid, the easy humor evaporating in an instant. The air shifts, the atmosphere turning heavy.
Before Kyle can say anything else, Ethan cuts him off, his voice calm but firm. “Nope. We’re not doing this.” His tone carries the kind of authority that makes you sit up straighter, even when you’re not the one in trouble. He leans forward slightly, his sharp gaze pinning Finn first, then Jax and Griffin, before landing on Kyle. “Tomorrow is Roster Day. We’ve all done our best, worked our hardest, and Coach will make whatever decision is best for the team.”
Kyle scoffs. “Easy for you to say. Your position isn’t at risk, all for a pathetic PR stunt.”
“And,” Ethan continues, raising his voice and talking over Kyle as though he never spoke. “We willallrespect his decision.” His voice hardens, lingering on Kyle a beat too long, a warning simmering just beneath the surface. “Regardless of our individual positions, all of us are a team. We work together to dowhat’s rightfor the team. So, from here on, there will be no more fighting. Not on the ice, not in the locker room, and not here. Understood?”
A murmur of agreement goes up around the table, but Ethan isn’t done yet. Fixing Griffin with his piercing stare, he gestures toward Kyle and inquires, “Are you two good?”
“If Reed doesn’t have a problem with me, then I don’t have a problem with him. I’m here to make sure when you idiots fuck up, the other team doesn’t get a goal.” He softens his statement with a crooked smile.
“Har har.” Jax jabs him with his elbow, rolling his eyes.
“Please,” Finn teases. “The only reason you’re the number one goalie in the state is because we make your job a breeze.”
The mood lightens somewhat, but the damage is done. The easy atmosphere from before dissipating like smoke in the air.
“Thanks for dinner,” Griffin says a short while later as he pushes his chair back and stands, glancing briefly around the table. His gaze lingers on Kyle for half a second, some of that boyish charm hardening into steel, before he looks away, waving goodbye as he walks out of the room.
I watch him go, my fingers fiddling with my knife. I should probably say something—acknowledge what he did for me yesterday in the locker room. Except…what would I even say? Thanks? For what? All he said was that I’m better than Kyle, which isn’t exactly a groundbreaking statement. Everyone knows that, even if they are unwilling to say it aloud. It’s a low bar if I’m going to start thanking anyone who gives me the mildest compliment.
Maybe I should apologize? But again, for what? It’s not like I asked Kyle to start shit with him. None of this is my fault. Griffin doesn’t seem like the type who wants pity, and an apology from me would probably come across as just that.
In the end, I decide not to say anything. If Griffin shows upin the sports center or on the ice tomorrow, we’ll go back to the routine we’ve established—ignoring each other unless absolutely necessary. And if he doesn’t…well, I’m used to being alone.
Shaking off the thought, I focus on the clinking of dishes. Kyle has disappeared upstairs, and I can hear the TV on in the living room, along with Ethan’s and Jax’s low voices as they watch the highlight reel of a recent game.
Forcing myself to move, I grab a dish towel and join Finn at the sink. He is already elbow deep in soapy water, scrubbing a plate.
“I’ll dry,” I tell him, keeping my voice neutral.
He tenses beside me, his shoulders stiffening at my close proximity, but he doesn’t tell me to leave. I pick up a clean plate, drying it methodically while the silence stretches between us.
Eventually, I glance at him from beneath my eyelashes, my frustration bubbling over. “What’s your problem with me?”
The only response I get is the tightening of his jaw as he scrubs harder at a pot.
“The rule doesn’t apply in the house,” I press, my voice sharpening. “So, why are you giving me the cold shoulder?”
Still nothing.
“Is it because I didn’t tell you who I was right away that first day? ’Cause, if so, that’s unfair. I was caught completely off guard. I didn’t know what to do, what was?—”
Finn slams the pot down, the loud clang making me jump. Before I can react, he moves.
In a blur, he closes the distance between us, his wet hands gripping the edge of the countertop on either side of me. The hard edge presses into my back as he pins me there, our chests barely brushing. His face is inches from mine, and I can feel his breath, warm and ragged, fanning over my cheek.
My own breathing turns shallow, my pulse hammering in my ears. “Finn…”
His gaze drops to my lips, green eyes turning molten. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and gravelly. “You’re about to destroy my best friend,” he says, his words cutting and raw. “And instead of worrying about him, all I can think about is doing this.”
His mouth crashes against mine. It’s quick—just a press of lips, firm and demanding—but it sends a jolt through me, leaving me shaken.
Then, as quickly as it began, it’s over. He abruptly pulls back, his eyes not quite meeting mine as he turns to pick up the pot he’d dropped.
Dazed, confused, and shocked, I blink at him for a full minute before I shove out of the kitchen. My hands tremble as I sprint for the stairs, and my heart is still racing when I reach the relative safety of my room.
