Puck Me, I’m Yours (Hawthorne University Hockey #1)

28. Delaney

28

Delaney

I hesitate at Birdie's door, my hand hovering over the knocker. The muffled sound of laughter and music filters through, and for a moment, I consider turning back. But before I can chicken out, the door swings open, revealing Birdie's beaming face.

"Del! You made it!" She pulls me into a hug, catching me off guard. "Come on in, we're just getting started."

I step inside, my eyes widening at the sight of Birdie's apartment. It's a whirlwind of clothes, makeup, and excited chatter. And pink. So much pink. Greer's lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone with her trademark resting bitch face. Two other girls—Birdie’s roommates, Harper and Hazel, I assume—are debating over nail polish colors.

"Guys, this is Del," Birdie announces, her arm still around my shoulders. "Del, meet the gang."

I manage a small wave, feeling out of place. "Hi," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Greer looks up, her eyebrow arched. "Took you long enough."

I feel my cheeks flush. "I, uh—"

"Ignore her," Birdie cuts in, shooting Greer a look. "Greer's allergic to being nice. Which I’m sure you know since you live together. Now, let's get you ready for this party!"

As Birdie ushers me towards her room, I can't help but think, This is what normal college girls do, right? Get ready for parties together? It feels surreal, like I'm playing a part in someone else's life.

"You know," Birdie says as she rummages through her closet, "I'm really glad you came. I know things have been weird with Breck and all, but I’m really glad you agreed."

I blink, surprised. "You are?"

She laughs, tossing a sparkly top my way. "Yeah. I like you. And I really like seeing Breck happy."

Her words settle over me, unexpected and oddly comforting. I hadn’t been sure about Birdie in the beginning or her relationship with Breck. It felt too close, too easy, and I’d convinced myself there might be something more between them. But it didn’t take long to realize how wrong I was. They’re just friends—the kind of friends who are more like family.

And, honestly, it’s impossible to dislike Birdie. She’s so warm, so genuine, that being around her feels like standing in sunlight. I know she’s been through her own confusing romance this year—Breck’s mentioned little pieces of it—but she carries herself with such confidence and kindness that it’s hard not to admire her.

Maybe it’s okay to trust this. To trust her.

It’s the reason I agreed to come tonight, to get ready for this party with them. I’ve missed out on so many “normal” experiences chasing my dreams. And, I don’t regret it. But, I do feel like I missed out on some things.

I’m glad I’m here but, it’s… a lot. There is a lot of high pitched squealing and far too many clothes. But it’s also fun. I slip into the bathroom as we’re getting ready to leave, needing a moment to breathe.

I stand in front of the mirror, smoothing down my dress for the hundredth time. The reflection staring back at me looks like a stranger—hair curled, makeup done, wearing an actual party outfit instead of my usual leggings and crop tops. Who even is this girl?

"You can do this, Del," I mutter to myself. "It's just a party. With people. Lots of people. No big deal."

My stomach flips as I think about the crowded hockey house, pulsing music, and sweaty bodies. I've spent most of my life on the ice or in the gym, not exactly prime party preparation. But tonight is different. We're celebrating the hockey team making it to the Frozen Four, and more importantly...

I'm a world champion.

The thought sends a thrill through me, momentarily overriding my anxiety. After years of sacrifice and relentless training, I finally achieved my dream. And the cherry on top? Rafe and Dakota's disqualification.

A small, vindictive part of me savors their two-year competition ban. No Olympics for them. But I push the thought away, focusing instead on my own potential Olympic future.

My phone buzzes with a text from Breck:

Can't wait to see you tonight, beautiful.

I bite my lip, torn between excitement and apprehension. Things have been tense between us since his confrontation with Rafe. But I can't deny the warmth that spreads through me at his words.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my purse and head for the door. "Time to be a normal college student," I whisper to myself. "Or at least pretend to be one for a night."

??????

The moment I step through the door of the hockey house, my senses are assaulted. The thumping bass, the raucous laughter, and the unmistakable scent of beer and sweat and what I think is marijuana. I barely have time to take it all in before a familiar pair of strong arms wraps around me, lifting me off my feet.

"Del! Baby! You’re here!" Breck's voice rumbles against my neck, his stubble tickling my skin as he buries his face there.

My stomach does a little flip as I breathe in his scent—a mix of cedar and lemon that's uniquely him. "Of course I did," I manage to say, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

He sets me down gently, his warm brown eyes searching mine. "Thank you," he says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "We don't have to stay long if you don't want to. I know this isn't really your scene."

I can't help but smile at his consideration. "Let's see how it goes, okay? I might surprise you."

Breck grins, that dimple I love so much making an appearance. "You always do, world champion ."

As he leads me deeper into the party, his hand on the back of my neck, I can't help but think how natural this feels. The tension that's been simmering between us since his confrontation with Rafe seems to have dissipated, replaced by a comfortable warmth. At least for tonight.

We make our way through the crowd, Breck introducing me to what feels like half the campus. I'm terrible with names, but I nod and smile, trying to commit faces to memory.

"Want to dance?" Breck shouts over the music, nodding towards the makeshift dance floor in the living room.

I hesitate for a moment. On the ice, every movement is calculated, practiced. This is... not that. "I'm not sure I know how," I admit.

Breck's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Neither do I. We can look ridiculous together."

And just like that, we're in the middle of the crowd, bodies moving to the beat. Breck's hands find my hips, guiding me gently, and I find myself relaxing into the rhythm. It's not a perfectly executed program, but there's a freedom in the imperfection that makes me laugh out loud.

"Having fun?" Breck asks, leaning in close to be heard over the music.

I nod, surprising myself with how true it is. "Yeah, I really am."

As the night wears on, I realize that this—the noise, the crowd, the chaos—isn't as overwhelming as I'd feared. With Breck by my side, his hand always finding mine in the crowd, I feel... anchored. Safe.

And for the first time in a long time, I'm not thinking about competitions or medals or what-ifs. I'm just here, in this moment, with the boy who smells like lemon candy and looks at me like I've hung the moon.

The bass thrums through my body, and I feel a sudden urge to escape the press of bodies. "I need to use the bathroom," I yell into Breck's ear, gesturing vaguely upstairs.

He nods, squeezing my hand. "Want me to go with you?"

I shake my head, already pushing through the crowd. "I'll find you!"

The upstairs bathroom is blessedly quiet, and I take a moment to breathe, studying my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, hair slightly mussed. I look... happy. It's a strange realization.

When I descend the stairs, the party's in full swing. I scan the room for Breck's familiar silhouette, but he's nowhere to be seen. Instead, I spot Axel, practically devouring some girl's face in the corner. Micah's not far off, a petite girl with hair the color of dark wine perched on his lap, giggling at something he's said.

My stomach twists. Where's Breck?

I weave through the crowd, trying to ignore the claustrophobic press of bodies. I’m about to give up and go ask one of his friends when I hear my name.

"... Quinn. Man, can you imagine how flexible she must be?"

I freeze, blood running cold. A group of guys I vaguely recognize from Breck's team are huddled near the kitchen, red Solo cups in hand.

"Bet she can do all kinds of crazy shit in bed," another one chimes in, making a crude gesture.

"We've all seen her on the ice. Those splits, those spins... must translate pretty well, huh?"

I want to scream, to tell them off, but my throat closes up. I'm about to turn away when I hear a familiar voice, and my heart stops.

"Breck! My man! You've gotta tell us—is she as bendy as we think?"

My heart plummets as I hear Breck's low chuckle. "Guys, come on..." he starts, but there's a note of amusement in his voice that makes me feel sick.

"Oh, don't be shy now," one of them goads.

I want to run, to cover my ears, but I'm rooted to the spot. Surely Breck will shut this down. He'll tell them to show some respect. He'll—

"Let's just say..." Breck's voice drops conspiratorially, "she's got moves you wouldn't believe."

The guys erupt in laughter and crude comments. My vision blurs, tears threatening to spill over. How could he? How dare he.

I thought what we had was special, private. I thought he respected me, valued me beyond just my body. I thought he loved me. But here he is, bragging to his teammates like I'm some trophy to be shown off.

Bile rises in my throat as I push through the crowd, desperate for air. The music pounds in my ears, matching the frantic beat of my heart. I can't breathe. I need to get out of here.

"Del?" Birdie's concerned face swims into view. "Hey, what's wrong?"

I shake my head, unable to form words. "I... I have to go," I choke out, brushing past her.

"Wait, Del!" Birdie calls after me, but I can't stop. Can't explain. Can't face the pity in her eyes when she realizes how stupid I've been.

I've never felt more alone in a crowded room.

I burst through the front door, gulping in the cool night air. The muffled thump of bass fades as I stumble down the porch steps, my legs shaky beneath me.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself as I start the long walk home. The streetlights cast eerie shadows, and I wish I'd thought to grab a jacket. But there's no way I'm going back in there.

A couple stumbles past, giggling and wrapped around each other. I avert my eyes, a fresh wave of hurt washing over me. That could've been Breck and me, if he was who I thought he was.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Probably Birdie, checking on me. Or worse, Breck, wondering where I've gone. I ignore it.

"You knew," I chastise myself. "You knew it was a bad idea. Fall for the charming hockey player. Because that always ends well."

A car rumbles by, and for a split second, I consider flagging it down. But no, I need this walk. Need to clear my head. Also, probably don’t need to be chopped up into little pieces if the kind stranger turns out to be a serial killer.

I kick a pebble, watching it skitter across the sidewalk. "What did you expect? That he'd be different? That you'd be special?"

The worst part is, I did expect that. I thought Breck was genuine, that he saw me as more than just a conquest. But apparently, I'm just another notch on his hockey stick.

"At least Rafe had the decency to cheat behind my back," I mutter bitterly. "Breck's broadcasting our sex life to the whole team."

My phone buzzes again. This time, I pull it out, ready to unleash my fury. But it's not Breck or Birdie. It's my coach.

6AM practice tomorrow. Don't be late.

I laugh, a broken sound that echoes in the empty street. Right. Because the world doesn't stop turning just because my heart's been stomped on.

"Well, Del," I say to myself, straightening my shoulders. "At least you've still got the ice. That's one relationship that's never let you down."

As I walk, I make a silent promise to myself. No more distractions. No more boys. From now on, it's just me and my Olympic dream. And if that means being alone, well... I'm used to that anyway.