: Chapter 2

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f you could get picked up by any team, what team would it be?” Gage asks.

“That’s easy, Toronto,” I reply. “Brodes, what team would you want to play for?” Brody has already been drafted and so have I. But Ottawa has their eye on him, and Vancouver wants me.

“Anywhere but Toronto.” Brody tosses a stress ball into the air with one hand and catches it with the other.

“But playing for the same team as your brother would be so cool,” Gage says. “You’ve got those good Stiles genetics.”

“Yeah, but the pressure would be stupid. And he would want to mentor me, or challenge me, and then it would just be me trying to mirror his career and that would suck. I’ll already always be compared to him.” Brody bounces the ball on his elbow, catches it, then repeats the move on the other side.

Tristan is one of the top players in the league, so I can see how much of a double-edged sword this is for Brody. I have an older sister and a younger brother, neither of which are into sports, so there’s no one to compete with.

We leave the locker room and are immediately rushed by a group of girls hanging out in the arena foyer. I don’t know them, but two of them seem to know Gage. Brody tucks his hands in his pockets and plasters on a smile, but this shit always makes him uncomfortable. His brother had a reputation last year, until Tristan started dating his teammate’s sister. Now he’s in a committed relationship. But the rumors still follow him around. And because Brody plays hockey and looks like a younger version, people expect him to be the same way.

One of the girls turns to me and starts chatting as we head for the exit. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her at a party before. Brody and I have the same class next, so we make our way to the science building while Gage heads to Rocks for Jocks with the two girls. A rush of students floods the stairs to the lecture theater. We fist-bump guys and accept hugs from girls. It’s like this wherever we go. Hockey is what Tilton University is known for, so we’re basically royalty. It doesn’t matter that we’re freshmen, plus Brody’s brother instantly elevates our status.

I’ve never been this high on the social food chain and while I’ve enjoyed the hell out of it for the past couple of months, it’s becoming repetitive. Every weekend it’s another party, another hookup, another girl’s number in my phone who I don’t connect with in any way other than physically. They don’t want to know me anyway. They want to talk about pro hockey players and my dream car when I secure my first contract.

I glance to the right, where a pint-sized girl with a hood covering half her face climbs the stairs next to me. Someone on their phone nearly collides with her, but she pulls a Matrix move and ducks out of the way. She mutters “excuse you too, dickface” and continues up the steps. We reach the doors at the same time. I raise my arm above her head—it’s not hard, she’s at least a foot shorter than me—and leave enough room for her to pass through the gap.

She pauses, head turning, chin tipping up. Gray eyes lift to meet mine. I feel her gaze like a shot of tequila to my soul. And other parts.

“After you.” I motion her ahead of me.

Her eyes flare. Her mouth opens and closes. Someone almost bumps into her from behind. Other bodies stream past us. She murmurs a barely audible thank you and scurries past me. I lose her in the crowd, disappointed because she has a face I want to keep looking at.

Class is long. And today we’re talking about cell structure, so I’m forced to take copious notes, in part because I only managed to read half the chapter in preparation. After class, Brody and I meet up with a few of our teammates to talk strategy for the upcoming game before we return to the dorms.

I should stay in tonight and study. Catch up on my reading for bio and get to bed early. But the second we walk through the doors, Annabelle and Barbie are there, telling us about another off-campus party.

“Cover is only like twenty bucks, and they have a keg and coolers,” Barbie says.

“And if you’re on the hockey team, they said they’ll let you in for free,” Annabelle adds.

These two are always around. Always. Wherever we go, they go. We don’t invite them; they just show up and tag along. I don’t dislike them. But I don’t particularly like them either. None of us have ever expressed an interest in hooking up with them. I always get the sense if someone made that mistake, these two would immediately declare girlfriend status and it would be four more years of them always being around. Currently, they function as a semi-deterrent for other girls, which Brody isn’t completely against because he’s hung up on some high school crush he’s never gotten over, so I tolerate them.

“I’m game, how about you guys?” Gage says.

Gage is always up for a party. It’s a big part of the reason he’s already skating the academic probation line.

I shrug and look to Brody. He shrugs back.

I glance to the right, where a pint-sized girl wearing a hoodie with the phrase “social battery on empty” scrawled under a frowning battery over her chest speed walks toward the elevators. Could it be the same girl from class earlier today? She jams her thumb on the button.

“Come on! It’s a nice night. Soon it’ll be snow and crappy weather and we’ll have to go to bars instead. It’ll be fun!” Annabelle whines.

“I’m not staying late,” Brody says.

“Me neither.”

“Yay!” Barbie and Annabelle jump around while clapping. “Let’s get changed and meet down here in twenty minutes!”

We move as a group toward the elevators.

Gage rushes for them, trying to get there before the doors slide closed. The elevators take forever here. The girl at the front lifts her head as she reaches for the panel inside.

Thick dark lashes, gray eyes rimmed in charcoal. I swear it’s the girl from my class this morning. But the doors close before I can confirm her identity.