2. Rowan
CHAPTER TWO
Rowan
I watch as Jinx strides away, her hips swaying beneath her black yoga pants, each assured step causing her perfectly shaped ass to move with a captivating grace.
Her walk exudes an effortless confidence, as if she commands every inch of the pavement beneath her feet, and it undeniably stirs something within me.
As I’m soaking in the scene, she abruptly spins around, catching me off guard. A wide smile, unapologetic, flashes across my face as I offer her a slow, deliberate wink.
A blush blooms up her neck, painting her cheeks a rosy pink, and she quickly diverts her gaze, pretending to be absorbed by the music blaring through her headphones. She bobs her head to the beat, but I can tell—she knows I was watching her every move.
I release a sigh, rubbing the back of my neck as she disappears around the corner and slips into the rink’s bustling lobby.
Damn, I want her. Bad. Like, really bad.
Jinx is like a complex, enigmatic puzzle that I can’t quite piece together. But I want to spend hours figuring out how every piece of her fits.
She’s a world apart from the girls I typically pursue, the ones who eagerly vie for my attention, practically tripping over themselves to make the chase effortless.
But Jinx?
She compels me to earn every moment, every glance, every smile.
Her prickly exterior turns me on; I love a badass girl with a rough edge. I love the freaky contacts she comes in wearing, and I wonder if she’d keep them on while we were in the sack together…
I just wish she’d open the door and let me step into her world.
She always manages to slip through my grasp, offering one impeccable excuse after another. Too busy, too exhausted, already has plans. She dodges me with a smug grin and a melodic laugh, never harsh but never yielding either.
I crave just one opportunity. Just one drink, one evening.
I have a feeling she’s a blaze of passion beneath all that razor-sharp wit and confident attitude.
She’s nothing like the typical girls I hook up with, the puck bunnies or sports groupies, the ones who flood the bars after games, eyes glistening with hope as they bat their clumpy lashes, eager to leave with one of us. They’re enjoyable, no doubt.
But there’s a certain emptiness to them, to the experience of being with them. Like there are millions of them.
And only one of Jinx.
The conversations with those preppy, prim girls are shallow, the sex is pleasurable but forgettable and predictable, and by the next morning, I’m indifferent about seeing them again.
Jinx stands out like a vibrant splash of color against a grayscale backdrop.
She’s not just another girl to occupy my bed for a fleeting night, she’s something that I’d want to enjoy for months, at least. She exudes coolness with an effortless charm.
Her sharp wit, that wicked sense of humor, and her punk-rock attitude spark something within me, igniting a desire to spar with her just for the thrill of silencing her with a kiss.
And, damn, if that isn’t an emotion I’ve never experienced before.
It stirs within me a question: do I truly want something more?
The thought unsettles me. Serious relationships have never been my forte. The notion of settling down, of someone expecting me to embrace responsibility and commitment, makes me feel restless, like a caged animal.
But if it were with someone like Jinx, would it even feel like confinement? Or would it simply feel natural, like slipping into a warm ocean on a scorching day?
Would it just feel easy?
“Jesus, man, you’re trying way too hard.”
I turn to see Thomas leaning against the entrance to the corridor, his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing, dismissive smirk playing on his lips as he watches me with far too much amusement.
The overhead light from the hallway paints a shadow over his face, but I can still see the teasing shimmer in his eyes. I roll my eyes, trying to brush off his comment.
“You always eavesdrop on me—or is this a new hobby? Should I be worried you’re watching me shower, too?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and drumming my fingers on the desk.
Thomas chuckles. “Please. If I wanted to see a naked dude, I’d just look in the mirror and admire perfection.”
He gestures to himself with a mock flourish, clearly enjoying the banter. I shake my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips despite the teasing.
“Seriously, though,” he continues, giving my shoulder a light nudge with his elbow. “There are puck bunnies everywhere. Why waste your time on prickly Jinx when you could have an easy lay?”
He raises his eyebrows, genuinely curious, though his tone is laced with a hint of challenge.
I know he’s half-joking, but there’s an edge to his question, like he’s probing for a real reason. The room feels a bit quieter, the hum of the ceiling fan the only other sound.
And honestly? I don’t have a simple answer.
We walk toward the locker room, and he tells me that Bruno’s still getting ready after practice.
“He’s such a prima donna about showering,” I remark as we push the locker room door open. We sit down on the wooden bench between the lockers, and he hollers to Bruno in the shower, who calls back and says he’s almost done.
“Seriously, what’s up with you and Jinx? You thinking about taking a bite of the poison apple?” Thomas prods again.
I just smile at him, leaning back against the blue lockers with an air of confidence I don’t entirely feel. “Maybe I like a challenge.”
We hear the shower shut off, and from behind the billowing steam, Bruno’s deep voice reverberates with a teasing edge. “What were you two idiots talking about before I graced you with my presence?”
Thomas, lounging on the bench with his legs fully extended across the wood, rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Jinx.”
A pause follows, punctuated by the unmistakable sound of Bruno’s amused snort echoing off the tiled walls. “Of course you were.”
“Hey, don’t act like you’re above it,” I call out, leaning forward with accusation. “We all know you’ve been sneaking glances at her, too.”
There’s a moment of silence between the three of us. Bruno’s wet steps toward his locker are the only noise before he finally responds, his voice carefully neutral.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Thomas scoffs, adjusting his position with a playful nudge. “Come on, man. She’s hot as hell, wicked smart, and she doesn’t take shit from anybody. You’re telling me that doesn’t do it for you?”
Bruno towels off quickly, droplets of water trickling down his muscular frame. A towel hangs loosely around his hips as he shakes out his dark, wet hair. He rummages through his duffel bag for fresh clothes, his movements unhurried.
“She’s cool,” he says with a shrug, pulling on a crisp shirt.
I cross my arms, and we both turn away from him, giving him some privacy as he pulls his boxers and jeans on. “Goth girls are fucking sexy. Always wanted to be with one. I heard they’re freaks in bed, in the best way possible.”
Bruno glances at me with an unimpressed expression, the fabric of his shirt settling over his shoulders. “You’re an idiot.”
Thomas bursts into laughter, giving my shin a light, playful kick with his foot. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”
I flash a grin, feeling a surge of confidence.
Once Bruno is dressed and adorned with the scent of fresh cologne trailing behind him, we step out into the hallway. Our laughter reverberates off the polished tile floors and painted walls, filling the space with a lively echo as we say goodbye to the cleaning crew.
Down the corridor, we spot Dr. Ally and Kenzie, their heads close together as they stroll toward the exit, animatedly chatting and exchanging smiles.
“Ladies,” Thomas greets them with his trademark, boyish grin that seems to light up his whole face.
Kenzie quirks an eyebrow and smiles tentatively. “Heading to Surf’s Up again, huh? Try not to get kicked out this time.”
I feign indignation, pressing a hand to my chest dramatically. “That incident was not our fault.”
Ally chuckles, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “Sure, bud.”
As they continue on their way, we push through the rink doors and step outside.
The sky above is a deep indigo, the last traces of daylight fading behind thick, rolling clouds.
Thomas stretches his arms behind his head, letting out a satisfied sigh. “You know, Kenzie and Ally have it pretty sweet. Being with more than one guy must be quite the experience.”
Bruno nods thoughtfully, a crease forming on his brow. “Yeah, but it’d be a lot of work, too.”
I scoff, casting a glance at both of them. “Nah, it’s all about stamina, boys.”
They both look at me with raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. Feeling a mischievous urge to rile Bruno up, I press on.
“Let’s be real,” I say, leaning back with a cocky grin, “if we all went for Jinx, she’d want me all night.”
Bruno turns his head with deliberate slowness, his eyebrow arching in disbelief. “The hell did you just say?” he asks with a hint of a challenge.
“You heard me,” I reply, my grin widening into a full-blown taunt. “I’d outmatch you all in the sack. She wouldn’t even glance your way after she got a taste of this.”
I sweep my hand over myself with exaggerated drama, as if presenting an irresistible offer.
Bruno doesn’t waste a second. He lunges at my legs, and before I can even brace myself, I’m tackled to the cold, hard pavement.
“What the fuck—” I start to protest, but Bruno cuts me off with a growl and a laugh.
“Let’s see how long you last, lover boy !” His voice is full of playful aggression.
Thomas, never one to miss out on a bit of chaos, dives into the fray, trying to pry Bruno off me while doubled over in laughter.
The three of us roll around on the rough concrete like a bunch of overgrown kids, throwing half-hearted punches and struggling to pin each other down.
By the time we finally disentangle ourselves and stagger to our feet, we’re all out of breath, our faces flushed with exertion and amusement. My ribs ache from laughing.
Bruno brushes the dust off his jeans, a smug smile on his face. “For the record, I’d ruin you,” he declares with a playful certainty.
Thomas, still catching his breath, nods in agreement. “Oh, absolutely,” he chimes in, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
I shake my head, still chuckling. “Guess we’ll just have to let Jinx decide,” I say.
Bruno shakes his head, his fingers gripping the worn leather steering wheel as he climbs into the driver’s seat of his massive truck. The slate-gray exterior gleams under the flickering streetlights, reflecting their sporadic glow like a restless sea.
“You two would need a hell of a lot more game if you wanted to trick a girl into putting up with both of you at the same time—let alone all three of us,” he says with a chuckle that echoes in the cab.
Thomas, already sprawled out in the back seat like a king in his own domain, kicks his scuffed sneakers up onto the console between the front seats, the soles brushing against the edge.
“Pfft. Speak for yourself, bud. I have plenty of game,” he retorts, a grin scrawled across his hardened lips.
I slide into the passenger seat, my hand brushing the cool metal of the door handle as I shut it. A smirk of my own forms as I glance at Thomas.
“Oh yeah? Is that why you were moaning about losing your touch the other night?” I tease.
Bruno snorts, the sound mingling with the engine’s roar as he turns the key. The deep rumble vibrates through the truck’s frame, settling into a steady purr.
“Wait, what?” he asks, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.
Thomas groans dramatically, dragging his hands down his face as if trying to erase the memory. “For fuck’s sake, Rowan,” he mutters, his exasperation clear. “That’s why you’re my second call—you can’t keep your mouth shut.”
I chuckle as I click my seatbelt into place. Bruno expertly backs out of the lot, the tires crunching over loose gravel.
“I’m just sayin’. Maybe the reason you’re in a slump isn’t ‘cause you’re getting old, Grandpa; maybe it’s ’cause you want something real for once,” I suggest, both mocking and sincere.
Bruno side-eyes me, a skeptical grin tugging at his lips as we pull onto the road, the headlights casting long shadows on the empty street ahead.
“Oh, so we’re getting deep now? That's what this drive is gonna be?” he questions, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Thomas scoffs, waving a hand dismissively in the air, the motion sending a shadow flickering across the truck’s interior.
“Nah. I just need a drink. And to not think about that,” he insists.
The familiar neon lights of Surf’s Up come into view, promising the night’s adventures.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” I reply, leaning back as we approach our destination.