Page 12 of Twisted Shot
“What happened?” Mila croaks, her voice a gravel pit.
Both heads swivel toward her. Jake looks relieved. Natalie is wild-eyed with fury.
Jake hands her a phone. “See for yourself.”
Mila pads across the kitchen tiles, stomach roiling, and peers at the screen.
The video is only thirteen seconds.
But it’s enough.
Shirtless and red-faced, Jesse stands on the bar in a glittery cowboy hat, arms outstretched like he owns the place. He’s swaying hard as a girl in a purple bralette and cutoff jeans pours tequila into his open mouth. Another presses close and licks salt off his stomach, giggling into his skin. Jesse grabs her by the face and kisses her, messy and uncoordinated, tongues questing and unmistakable. Around them, the bar cheers as if someone scored in overtime. The camera is shaky, but the details are crystal clear—and damning.
Mila winces. “Oh,Jesse.”
“It’s everywhere,” Natalie says, voice sharp. “Someone sent it to Jake this morning.”
“And he’s underage,” Jake echoes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If they check timestamps or location data, he’s not just breaking curfew, he’s committing a crime.”
Natalie throws up her hands, her voice cracking. “There goes everything he’s worked for. Everything my parents and I worked for.”
Mila says nothing. She can’t. Because she remembers it all—Natalie dropping out of her second year at Western to move back to Port Perry after her parents died. Trading campus parties and career fairs for grief counseling and early-morning rink drives. She worked three jobs to pay for Jesse’s skates, his sticks, his endless league fees. Gave up nights out, gave up dreams.
While Mila stayed in university, got her degree, and built her life, Natalie built Jesse’s.
“I thought you were with him,” Jake says, turning to Mila now, voice pointed. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
Mila freezes, then narrows her eyes. “Seriously?”
Natalie cuts in before she has to answer. “Don’t you dare put that on her. She’s not his babysitter.”
Jake lifts a hand. “I’m not blaming. I’m trying to figure out who was watching him.”
Mila sets the phone down, rubbing her temple. “Theo and I leftaround one. Jesse was still vertical, still loud, but not, you know…tequila fountain level yet.”
Jake raises an eyebrow. “You left with Theo?”
“Separately,” Mila corrects, sharper than intended. “Theo left around the same time. We weren’t... together.”
Natalie looks at her curiously, but doesn’t get the chance to question her best friend. The front door creaks open, and Jesse stumbles in like he’s trying to remember how gravity works. He’s in a stained t-shirt, sunglasses still on, and a half-eaten granola bar in his hand.
Gordie Howl barks once, winding his way around Jesse’s ankles, tail wagging furiously.
“Hey,” he says cautiously, leaning down to scratch behind Gordie’s ears. “Was someone yelling?”
“Are you insane?” Natalie roars.
Jesse flinches. “Okay. Definitely yelling.”
“Do you know how screwed you are?” Jake says. “That video’s gone viral.”
Jesse takes off the sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes. “What video?”
Jake shoves his phone towards Jesse. His voice is steely. “I’ve had that sent to me by at least five guys this morning, all from different teams. You’re trending,bruh. But not in a good way.”
“Jesse, you’re nineteen. That bar could lose its license. You could get benched. Fined!” Natalie shrieks.
“Okay, okay,” Jesse says, hands up. “I was drunk. It got out of hand. I didn’t know they were recording.”
