Page 59 of Stick It
“…and that’s what we’re doing at practice tonight,” Coach finishes. “Shake off last night and come ready to work. Dismissed.”
The guys start filing out, chairs scraping against the floor, voices rising in chatter. I stand, making my way toward Jax with one question poised on my tongue—Why? Why did he sit up all night gluing my mug back together? Why did he punch his teammate, roommate, and friend for me? Why does he care?—but Griffin steps into my path, blocking me.
His face is blank, unreadable, the way it always is, and his voice is sharp when he demands, “Why does Reed have a black eye?”
I blink, caught off guard, before flattening my lips. A refusal to tell him anything.
“Does it have anything to do with the fact you couldn’t keep your eyes off Keller for the past hour?”
It takes all of my self-control to keep from denying that. He was sitting right behind me; of course, he saw every furtive glance. Instead, I narrow my gaze on Griffin, a silentnone of your business.
He studies me a moment longer before one side of his lips hitches in a feral smirk. As though my silence has confirmed something for him, and he’s delighted at the outcome. “Got it.”
He tucks his hands into his pockets and walks away, whistling a tune I don’t recognize but is somehow both upbeat and eerie. Like the tune in a horror movie right before shit gets gruesome. It sends shivers skating down my spine as I watch him leave, an ominous weight settling in my stomach.
Deciding that Griffin Price will do whatever Griffin Price wants to do and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it, I shake off the weird interaction before heading for the door. I’m hoping to still chase down Jax. However, when I make it outside, Ethan’s car is pulling out of the lot, Jax sitting beside him in the passenger seat.
I stop in the parking lot, staring as the car disappears down the street. Perhaps it’s better this way. Better to leave last night in the past. Jax did a sweet thing, helping me in a raw moment, but that kiss…
That kiss was dangerous. If I let it, it could ruin everything.
As much as I might wish to feel Jax’s firm lips on mine, his hands sliding over my skin, I can’t risk it.
I can’t risk my position on this team.
I can’t risk my reputation.
And I can’t risk the shredded remains of my heart.
18
DYLAN
Wren rummages through my closet,throwing clothes over her shoulder with a disgusted look on her face. “Seriously, Dyl, do you not own anything that’s not a hoodie, sweats, or leggings?”
“It’s called being comfortable,” I protest from my spot on the bed.
She makes a noise of disagreement. “What are you supposed to wear when you go out?”
“Easy. I don’t go out.”
She sighs, sounding as though she doesn’t quite know what to do with me. “Just as well I brought extras,” she mutters cryptically to herself as she moves to unzip the bag she brought with her.
“I thought we were just going to a bar?” I ask, glancing down at the black leggings and oversized top I have on. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
She gives me a look as though I’m a three-headed alien. “It doesn’t matterwherewe’re going. It’s a girls’ night out. The rules of girls’ night dictate that you must wear a short-ass dress and heels.”
It’s my turn to gape at her. “You never mentioned anything about a dress and heels!”
She shrugs. “I am now.” Rummaging through her bag, she pulls out a small, baby-blue dress that looks like it wouldn’t have fit me when I was five, never mind twenty-one. Holding it up in front of me, she glances at it, then me. “This will be perfect.”
“Yeah, perfect to strangle you with,” I snark.
She only laughs as if she thinks I’m joking. I’m not. I grew up watching hockey. Playing hockey. I am all about the violence when necessary, and if Wren comes even one step closer to me with that thing, itwillbe necessary.
She pulls out another, equally miniature dress, this one red, as well as a pair of silver and a pair of black heels. “Which do you prefer?” she asks.
“Neither, since I’m not changing.”
