Page 27 of What Are The Odds?
I trailed off when Levi’s eyes darkened. I followed his eyeline. Ryker was strolling this way. A smile stretched across his face when he caught my eye. I smiled and waved back. Like Levi, Ryker was dressed for his workout. Ours had been extra early this morning. Probably a conscious decision from our coach to ensure we didn’t get in the way of the hockey or football teams.
“Hey Grace.” Ryker’s tone shifted. “Holloway.”
Levi responded with a head nod. Ava scrambled back to her feet. Stella followed suit.
“We’re going to hit the ice baths,” she said. “You ready, Grace?”
Nodding, I got to my feet too. I wrapped my t-shirt around my neck, using it as a sweat towel. My chest was still heaving from the workout.
“So, Saturday night?” Levi prompted.
Ryker shifted from foot to foot. “What’s happening Saturday night?”
Levi squared his shoulders. “Grace is coming to my game.”
“Really?” Ryker faced me. “I’m free. If you’d like company.”
Stella poked her head around my body, a smile transitioning her face.
“Grace would love that.”
Ryker winked at me.
“It’s a date.”
15. Head out of the gutter
Levi.
I dropped my bag by the front door. Loud music was coming from the kitchen. I groaned. I didn’t have the energy to entertain. My body was sore from this morning’s practice, and each class I’d had today resulted in a stack of homework.
“Everyone better be decent,” I shouted before walking into the kitchen.
You never knew what you were going to get in this house. There’d been too many questionable encounters. The safe thing to do was announce your arrival. I was surprised to find Grace in the kitchen with Tripp. They had their backs to me as they fussed over something on the bench, bickering like siblings.
“You can’t taste the vodka in this batch, Hughesy,” Tripp complained.
“That’s a good thing. You shouldn’t be able to taste the alcohol,” Grace snapped back.
I cleared my throat. They turned my way. As usual, Grace was dressed in too many layers. She was wearing black leggings, which tucked into white socks and chunky sneakers, an oversized grey-hoodie, a thick brown vest and a black beanie. Tripp on the other hand was in nothing but a pair of gym shorts. He towered over Grace as he sloshed his drink around. The kitchen counter was a mess. It looked like Strawberry Shortcake had thrown up in here. Countless ingredients were half-open, and a yellow liquid was dripping down the splashback.
“Perfect timing,” Tripp said. “Try this.”
He thrust a frozen yellow drink in front of me. Grace watched me, her eyes wide and eager. Reluctantly I took the glass from Tripp and took the smallest sip. I coughed. It was strong. The alcohol burnt my throat as I swallowed. I screwed up my face before handing back the drink.
“Is there anything in there other than vodka?”
Grace cheered, triumphantly. “Told you. Let’s do my recipe again.”
Groaning, Tripp threw back the vodka-heavy drink while Grace started prepping the next one.
“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting at one of the barstools.
Wait, I was meant to be going upstairs. Why was I sitting down?
“Hughesy is helping me perfect a passionfruit daiquiri.”
“And why are you trying to perfect a passionfruit daiquiri?”
