Breakaway Goal (Sin Bin Stories #3)

Chapter 1

1

RHYS

I shouldn’t feel this way every time I look at my best friend’s little sister.

I know it’s cliché to say that my heart skips a beat when I see her, but I swear that’s what happens, every damn time. And when it gets back into its rhythm, the first beat thunders in my chest. Then it feels like there are a million wings fluttering in my stomach, and the edges of my lips pull into a stupid grin like they have a mind of their own.

That’s what happens every time I turn a corner, lift my head, or walk through a door and see Maddie Larsen in front of me.

And that’s what’s happening right now. I just stepped from the backyard into our house that’s packed wall to wall for our traditional party before the first day of classes. Immediately, my gaze lands on Maddie, who’s standing with her friend Jasmine in the middle of the living room.

It’d be a fucking game of Where’s Waldo to try and spot any one person in this house right now, with rowdy Brumehill College students packed like sardines in a way that must violate at least a dozen safety codes.

Still, Maddie’s exactly who my eyes naturally settle on the moment I glance into the crowded room.

Somehow, that’s the way it always is—whenever we’re close to each other, my eyes find her.

There’s a long beat of time where the loud music sounds distant in my ears while I drink up the sight of her. Her bright blue eyes, the way her pink lips form the perfect heart shape, the soft curve of her jaw, the alluring glow on the apples of her cheeks contrasting with her creamy complexion, the silky sheen of her dark black hair.

It wasn’t always like this between us. She didn’t always make my heart stutter in my chest the way she does now.

First, she was just my best friend’s younger sister, a girl who’d annoy us sometimes when I came over to hang out with Lane.

Then, as she got older, and the stock of memories we shared together grew, and I got to know her more, she became my friend, too. Almost as close a friend as her brother.

And then, somewhere along the way, she became …

I shake myself out of it. My friend is all she’ll ever be. I know that. I’ve accepted it. No matter what my stupid heart does whenever I look at her.

Forcing myself back into reality, I notice Maddie and Jasmine start to weave through the crowd of drunken college students toward the kitchen, where I’m standing.

I push down the feelings that swell so strongly in my chest that it feels ready to burst, those feelings that blossom in the wake of my skipped heartbeat every time I see Maddie. At this point, I’m an expert at doing so. It’s as second nature to me as handling a puck on the ice.

The side of my mouth ticks up as Maddie and her friend approach closer, and I realize they still haven’t noticed me. I take a step back out and to the side, hiding behind the wall next to the open door.

Maddie and I have a bunch of little traditions we’ve built up between us over the years, and I’m sensing the perfect opportunity to indulge in one of our more childish ones.

It all started back when I was twelve years old, and she was ten.

It was the day before Halloween, and I was over at her and Lane’s house like I was just about every day of the year. I’d just stepped out of the bathroom—and a figure wearing a black robe and a ghost mask leaped in front of me, holding up a giant knife.

In the heat of the moment, it didn’t look like the plastic prop it was.

I let out an extremely embarrassing high-pitched scream and jumped backward so hard that I fell and landed right on my ass on the hard tile of the bathroom floor.

While I cursed up a storm and rubbed my sore butt, Maddie cackled with glee underneath that mask.

Ever since then, sneaking up and trying to scare each other has been one of our things.

So now I’m hiding in wait next to the open door, hoping that Maddie and her friend are tired of the packed living room and decide to come out to get some fresh air. I’ll be in perfect position to pounce right as she unknowingly steps past me, yell boo in her ear, and see how high I can get her to jump.

Immature? You bet. A grin carves on my face just imagining her reaction.

I’m also imagining the rosy flush that’ll fill her cheeks when she turns around, the way her full, pink lips are going to be parted in a circle as she yelps in surprise … and the tightness in my jeans tells me I really need to stop dwelling on that image.

The song blaring on the speakers in the living room fades into a quiet ending. I strain my ears to see if I can pick up on a conversation between Maddie and Jasmine, expecting them to be at the kitchen island right by the door refilling their drinks.

My ears find the note of Maddie’s voice. “Let’s look around to see if we can find Lane or Rhys to say hi,” she’s telling Jasmine. “Maybe they’re outside.”

My lips curl higher. I’m practically rubbing my hands together, like I’m still a juvenile middle school boy who gets a kick out of scaring his best friend’s sister.

Thanks to my tattoos, well-earned reputation for rough play on the ice, and usually terse demeanor, most people wouldn’t think of me as someone who likes to play pranks. But Maddie’s one of the few people I feel like I can be my real self around.

Before the girls head outside, though, I hear another voice. And it’s one that has my grin turning into a scowl.

“Hmph,” it huffs derisively. “ You’re looking to get Lane’s or Rhys’s attention? Good luck.”

The words are dripping in haughty sarcasm, an exact tone I’ve heard way too many times at parties like these.

I peek through the open door to confirm what I’d suspected: Gina Hillis and her coterie of jersey chasers are sneering at Maddie and Jasmine from across the kitchen island they’re all standing around.

“Yeah,” a girl standing next to Gina in a similar skin-tight dress and exuding the same Mean Girl attitude sneers. “Get in the back of the line. Way in the back.”

“Yeah,” a third girl adds very unoriginally, sputtering a laugh as her eyes elevator judgmentally up and down Maddie.

I’m way better acquainted with these girls than I’d like to be. Any time a Brumehill sports team throws a party, they’re there with one goal on their minds: hooking up with the most popular player they can sink their claws into that night.

And, hey, if they were just girls who happened to have a thing for guys who play sports, I sure as hell wouldn’t judge. But it’s purely about an ego trip for these girls. And with those puffed-up egos, they spread negativity wherever they go, judging other girls who don’t meet their imaginary standards and treating anyone other than superstar athletes like shit.

Maddie’s the type to turn the other cheek when someone’s rude to her for no reason, but I know her friend Jasmine well enough to sense that she’s about to give those stuck-up puck bunnies a piece of her mind.

But I don’t let her.

In a second, my strides eat up the distance between us, and suddenly I’m right next to Maddie, slinging my arm snugly around her shoulders, pulling her close to me, and looking at my best friend’s little sister with a flirty grin that’s calculated to evoke jealousy from the three girls on the other side of the counter.

“Maddie,” I say, putting a low, coy rumble into my voice, “there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

She glances up at me with a bewildered look on her face. When our eyes lock for the first time tonight, and I feel like I could drown in the bright blue pool of her gaze, I have to remind myself that looking at her like this—like I’m starving and she’s the snack I’ve been dreaming about all day—is just an act to knock Gina down a peg.

I shoot her a wink and wiggle my eyebrows a bit, hoping to get the message across. Her forehead crinkles slightly, then her eyebrow perks up like she’s catching on.

“Oh, Rhys, heyyy ,” Gina coos from across the counter. Her voice is seductive and syrupy sweet—the kind of over-sweet that turns your stomach.

There’s an obvious hint of desperation in her voice, too. An insecure eagerness to seize my attention from the girl she just claimed could never warrant it.

I turn to Gina and her two hangers-on and give them the most dismissive look I can muster. I knit my brow, scrunch my nose, flatten and curl my lips like I’ve just caught a whiff of garbage on a hot summer afternoon.

Then, without even a word to dignify their presence, I turn my head back to Maddie.

My expression softens, and I make damn sure to beam a megawatt grin at her that the Mean Girl wannabees can’t possibly miss.

I lean closer to Maddie, picking up a whiff of vanilla from her hair that has my lower ab muscles clenching, and that reaction is no act.

“Didn’t I tell you I wanted to see you the second you got here … to show you my room ?”

Her eyes go wider with shock at my audacity. I have to tighten my grin to keep from laughing, both at Maddie’s reaction and at the envy palpably radiating from the girls who just dissed her.

I also have to fight to keep my cock from twitching at the way Maddie’s delicate, slender shoulders feel under my arm, at how good the contours of her body feel as she’s nestled against my side.

“Oh, right,” Maddie says, her words tentative like the steps of someone shuffling onto an ice rink for the first time. “Your room …”

Now I really have to struggle not to laugh. Maddie’s got a shit load of talents—way more than I do—but improv isn’t one of them.

“Well,” I say, my voice bordering on a growl now, picking up Maddie’s slack when it comes to selling this interaction for our little audience, “let’s not waste any more time.”

Then, not wanting to leave Maddie’s friend out of the performance, I turn to Jasmine. I bounce my eyebrows as I pretend to elevator my gaze up and down her appreciatively, shooting her a conspiratorial wink that I can tell she picks up on.

“And you,” I drawl, “I’ll be seeing you later.”

She flips her hair, propping her hip against the kitchen island. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” she coos in response.

She doesn’t miss a beat. Jasmine’s always been a hoot, and I’m glad Maddie has a friend like her.

With my arm still slung over her, I guide Maddie through the crowded living room and up the stairs. I look down at her with a grin on my lips and a glimmer in my eyes—and then I step into my bedroom with my best friend’s little sister, and close the door behind us.