Chase: A Devil & his Birdie: Havenwood University Book Two

Chapter 8

I SLOWLY OPEN one eye and the small movement painfully ripples through my whole head. The assault of cool air on my eyeball causes a whole body shiver. Make. It. Stop. I shut my eyes and reach for the blanket to tuck it closer to stop the shivering that now won’t quit.

I’m gonna be sick. I lean over and puke into a garbage can that has been strategically placed.

“That’s it, puke it all out now, we have practice in two hours and you know if you upchuck on the ice, Coach will make you lick that shit up on your hands and knees.” Wait where the fuck am I? It sure doesn’t feel like my bed. “You”re in Drew’s room, we had to spend the night here.” I’m too hungover for our triplet-speak right now.

“Get out of my head, A, I don’t want you lurking around in there,” I tell him and pull the blanket over my head.

“Afraid I’ll uncover all your deepest and darkest secrets? Newsflash, I already know them, ” he says at the same time he rips off the blanket.

“No you don’t,” I say defensively and automatically think of Sloane and how I end up finding her. Watching. Wanting. Staring. Unable to stay away. He’d chain my feet together if he knew.

“You really went fucking balls to the wall last night,” he says and interrupts my mini freak out that he’ll figure out what I’ve been doing. I wash out my mouth with a few sips of water from the bottle that’s on the bedside table along with two Advil. I chug the rest of it and rollover.

“Can say the same for you too, at one point you had your hands full of Delta girls,” I’m expecting him to at least smile at that but he just frowns.

“We”re not talking about me right now, we”re talking about you, what the fuck man? I haven’t seen you that fucked up in a long ass time. You were drowning in tequila and then you got into a fistfight with some asshole who got a little too friendly with Red.” Yeah, that about sums it up. I groan and turn over to lay on my back and throw my arm over my eyes in an attempt to block out more than just the overhead lights.

“You got your ass knocked out,” he laughs. “You got some solid hits in though.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumble and the smell of my own vomit breath causes me to gag.

“Too fucking bad, I do,” he says and smacks my face with a pillow. I sit up to glare at him and the sudden upright movement is too much and I immediately crumble back into the fetal position. There’s no way I’m going to practice today.

“You’ve got thirty minutes and then we gotta go,” I swear he’s in my head again.

“Stop listening to my thoughts, it’s annoying as hell. And shut the fucking lights off.” Fucking brothers.

“This is your fault we even have practice today. Maybe after your cat nap you’ll want to tell me what the fuck happened and why you were drinking your ass off,” he says while shifting his weight on the bed to turn the lamp off for me. He’s sweet like that.

“Not likely,” I mumble.

“Fine, then I’ll stick to my own conclusions about your floundering mental health. Which we will be talking about eventually.”

“Yeah, definitely not, asshole,” I tell him.

“Go to sleep, dickface, I’ll wake you up when we gotta go.”

I shut my eyes for what feels like ten seconds before A is nudging me to wake up so we can head home to shower, eat a protein bar, and head to the arena for morning skate. Fuck.

Within the hour I’m skating like a toddler on shaky legs, missing passes, and even fumble my stick. It’s just as bad as yesterday. I don’t want to fucking be here, and everyone out here knows it.

I feel like I’ve been run over, and my head is full of shit from last night, plus my face is fucking sore from the punches I took. Who the fuck was that asshole and why did he think he could fucking touch her? I don’t give a shit if it was just a little dancing. It pissed me the fuck off.

“Wilton, you smell like Jose Cuervo and disappointment. Get your ass off my ice, and go shower. You’ve also earned yourself an extra few shifts of volunteering this week. I also want you in my office tomorrow morning, 9:00 AM, don’t be a second late. Next time you drink like a fucking fish I’ll gut you like one, that goes for all you jackasses!” I’m not the only guy out here looking green, but I am definitely the most hungover I’ve been this season. I’m probably also the only one with bruises on his face after getting into a fistfight.

I hang my head, and skate off, and take the name-calling from my team. Assholes. I shower, pop more Advil, down two Gatorades and a water. I need real food and a nap and I’ll be functional again. I need to go for a run. Run to her. Find her. Watch her. Get my fix.

I wait for the guys to get back, and sort themselves out, before we make our way over to the caf for brunch. My hands are sweaty and it’s not the leftover alcohol seeping out of my body, it’s anticipating seeing her.

We’re headed to the only caf on campus that’s open on Sundays and I already know she’ll be here with my sister. The angel on my shoulder has insisted I eat soggy cereal in my room on Sunday mornings to avoid running into her there. She’s recited the long list of reasons why I’ve needed to stay away while I’ve eaten stale Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

But now, I’ve seen another pair of hands on her and that has the devil on the other side angry as hell. He’s reminding me how fucking pissed I was seeing that dickhead dance with her, touching her body, and being close enough to grind against her ass. He isn’t fucking hesitating to slap his hand over the angel’s whiney mouth as he urges me to hurry the fuck up so we can see her.

If she’s not there, I’m going to find her. Just thinking about seeing her is making my stomach flip and it’s not because I’m hungry. I am. But my desire to see her after last night is insatiable.

We grab our trays and take our usual spot. I sit on the side of the table so I can watch the entrance. That damn angel breaks out of the devil’s hold and sits her ass down on her perch when I spot my sister walking in with Sloane at her side.

I literally roll my shoulders back to knock her ass off and the devil gives her the finger as she falls down my arm. I know why I shouldn’t be doing this but my pull to her is too fucking strong.

I don’t take my eyes off her while she makes her way through the buffet lines, choosing her food, and then waiting to swipe her card. I don’t care what this girl does, I could stare at her all damn day.

Her hair is up in a ponytail and it moves back and forth as she gracefully moves. She looked sexy as hell last night in that V-neck lace shirt and looks just as hot in a crewneck sweatshirt that says Ciao Bella on the front. Beautiful indeed. Gorgeous girl.

She and my sister scan the tables and Max waves at B to get her attention. He’s got a big smile on his face and looks so goofy standing up while motioning for her to come this way. He’s a total fucking simp for my sister and doesn’t give a shit who sees him pining for her attention.

She smiles at him but takes a seat at a two-person table along the wall of windows overlooking Havenwood. Sloane takes a seat opposite her and starts to sip her drink. Her pretty lips form an O over the rim before she blows over the steaming liquid and my goddamn dick twitches in my pants.

Max’s face falls and he slumps his big ass down into the chair. He flips his hat forward before bringing the rim down over his face as he frowns.

When his phone starts to vibrate on his tray he picks it up, scans the message, and glares at me as if I spit in his food before punching me in the arm.

“That’s for you,” he says while taking a pic of me clutching my arm.

“What the fuck was that for? I didn’t do shit to you!” I wail and rub the sore spot. He’s adding to my collection of bruises.

“Yes you did, Evie is all the way over there and it’s all your fault,” he says under his breath as he shoves his phone in my face. I read a text from my sister. He’s so fucking whipped.

DIMPLES:

Sorry babe, girl time this morning.

Punch my brother in the arm for me.

“She could’ve been talking about Hunter, you know,” I say even though we both know she isn’t.

“She wasn’t, dickhead,” he pouts while texting on his phone and looks grumpy as hell. It would be kinda funny if I wasn’t now starting to feel bad about it.

I swallow down my food along with some guilt that’s stuck in my throat. Is B okay? I know she hates fights like the one I got into. Is she pissed at me now?

“Is she alright?” I quietly ask him while moving food around my plate, my appetite now gone.

“She’s fine now, I made sure of it,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest. I can feel the tension coming off his body from here. “If I had to guess, I bet she isn’t the one who needs the girl time.”

“What do you mean?” I ask even though I’m pretty sure I know what his answer is gonna be.

“I’m sure Red wanted to debrief after you hulked out last night,” Max says before shoving eggs into his mouth.

“What got into you anyway? I was still in the kitchen when you lost your shit,” Monroe asks between sips of coffee.

“I didn’t like what I saw, she flinched when that asshole got too close,” I grit the words out and hate that she was dancing with some jackass, to begin with. It made me fucking crazy that she tensed up like she did. Just thinking about him pulling her body into his makes me want to find him and punch him all over again.

“You didn’t waste any time pulling him off of her,” A adds without looking up from his phone. He isn’t texting or scrolling, just literally staring at his screen.

“I’ve never seen you throw punches like that off the ice before,” Jake adds.

“It’s what you do for the woman you love,” Max says while staring off at B like the sap he is.

“I’d do that for anyone who was getting too handsy,” and it’s the truth. Any of us would. We hate that shit. Consent is important.

“Bet. But this guy had his hands on your girl,” he enunciates your as if I’d miss the meaning. His words grate on my nerves and I think about that fucker’s hands on her tight stomach. I’m grinding my teeth and feel my face tighten up into a pinched scowl.

“She isn’t my–,” my words are abruptly cut off by my brother who is glaring at me and white-knuckling his phone.

“You forgetting what you said last night? That you threatened to go after anyone who went near her? Or touched her? That sure as shit sounds like you staking your claim,” I honestly don’t remember that but by the looks of Max, Jake, and Monroe’s faces, it seems like I did say that.

“Yeah well, maybe drunk me forgot that we don’t always get what we want,” I huff out and look away from them. They still don’t fucking get it.

I can’t fucking help it and drive my point home by looking over at Sloane. She looks pensive as she grips her necklace and nods her head at B. I can’t hear what they’re talking about but it looks serious as their conversation goes on. I don’t look away. She hasn’t smiled once since I’ve been watching and I miss seeing it on her pretty face.

She must feel me and tilts her head as her eyes find mine. This part is always so easy between us. It’s everything else that’s fucking complicated.

She only holds my stare for a second before her attention diverts back to my sister. I can literally hear that damn angel whispering, “See that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“Earth to Chase,” my attention shifts to Jake while his hand flies back and forth in front of my face.

“You’re staring again,” he points out.

“Was just checking to see if she was alright,” I hesitantly say. I have no doubt that Max took care of B last night after everything that happened, but what about Sloane? Was she alright? Scared? Upset? Mad? Maybe Davis stayed with her to make sure she was fine.

“Do you think she is after all that? You’re sending her mixed messages, man,” Jake offers and I know he isn’t wrong. Maybe the battle I’m in between my head and heart isn’t so internal after all.

“Hear me out. Take last night, you won’t make a move but knock out the first guy who dances with her. You spout off wanting to fight her battles but won’t fight for her. You don’t want anyone else to go near her but won’t step up yourself. It’s confusing not only to her, but if I had to guess, to you too.” I swear you can hear my teammates chewing that”s how quiet it is as Jake drops a bomb at brunch.

His words are like exploding shrapnel and hit me right in the chest. Even my angel and devil take cover and go into hiding under his scrutinizing eyes as he assesses me.

“Damn, don’t hold back or anything.” My skin feels tight and my head starts to pound again. “I’m gonna go, I don’t feel like being here anymore.”

I feel like I’m being fucking cut wide open for all to see. I’m way too sensitive for this shit and need to get the hell out of here. I go to stand and my brother demands that I sit my ass back down.

“Sit down, if we’re really gonna get into it, then I wanna know why you were drinking like that, to begin with, you never pull that crap during the season.” I don’t care what he wants to talk about and get into, I’m fucking done now.

I don’t want to deal with any of this anymore. I just want to go hole up in my room, lay face down in my bed, and then go for a run when it gets dark. Go see if her light is on later.

“I told you I don’t want to talk about it. I’m out, I need to get outta here.” This time I take my shit and go. I dump my tray of half-eaten food and sling my backpack over my shoulder. I left my hockey bag in Jake’s trunk and it can stay there until tomorrow morning for all I care. If it stinks up his SUV then that’s his goddamn payback for dropping a fucking hammer on me.

I don’t need him to point out how fucked up this thing with her is. I feel it in every part of my body. She’s every beat of my heart, every breath in my lungs, and she lives underneath the surface of my skin. I’m more than aware of every fucking moment that’s ever passed between us. I don’t need a fucking reminder, not when my soul begs and pleads for her every minute of every fucking day.