Chapter 17
The next week flies by between hockey, classes, and texting our girl almost constantly any free second we have. But Dean’s and my patience is quickly reaching a breaking point, especially if we don’t get to see her soon.
On top of that, our father and Adrianna just announced that they’ll be going on an impromptu vacation, a gift from him to her for their upcoming nuptials. How sweet.
But since they’re going to be out of our hair, Dean and I think it’ll be the perfect time for the annual Kensington party. They’re legendary events that we’ve thrown since our freshman year of high school.
Limited guest list with only a couple hundred of our closest friends, of course. Colored wristbands to identify relationship availability from single, uninterested, open to hookups, serious only, unavailable, and so on.
Since we’ve been at HEAU, the parties have become famous on their own. We do one big annual event, but occasionally throw smaller ones from time to time.
We’re not dumb, reckless college students. We’re smart, reckless college students. We hire bartenders, security, and designated drivers to make sure that our guests are always safe and good to leave whenever they’re ready.
We didn’t plan on throwing our big event this early in the year.
Not that we haven’t before, but with our father’s bullshit between the engagement, upcoming wedding, and overall attitude, we’ve been avoiding the conversation altogether.
But if they’re going to be out of town, it will be the perfect time to host it.
Dean usually instigates the conversation with him. The parties have never been a secret from our father; he’s looped in every step of the way.
My phone pings, and I see a message from Dean that tells me things aren’t smooth-sailing on the party front.
Dean: We’ve got a problem.
Right as I read his message, a new one comes through—a group text from our father, including Dean and me.
Dad: I already spoke with Dean, but I assumed it would be best to address you both so as to not have any confusion or miscommunication.
Dad: There will be no shenanigans while Adrianna and I are gone. No parties. No get-togethers. No law breaking or acting out. Do you understand?
I’m typing, already forming a response as his next message comes through.
Dad: I’m asking you, Asher.
Why the hell not? We do it every year. It’s tradition.
Dad: Some traditions shouldn’t be continued. Don’t you think it’s time you grew out of your party phase?
Where the hell is this coming from? Adrianna? You’ve never had problems with this in the past. Now, all of a sudden, you hate it?
My anger rolls over into my messages tenfold, pent-up emotions fueling the already-scorching fire. I’m making this about more than the stupid party before I even realize it.
Who even are you anymore?
Dad: I’ve let you have your fun and host your little parties. But that’s done now.
Dad: That’s final.
That’s final. I mock him in my mind with an annoying voice.
Are you being serious? I’m waiting for the next text to come through, telling me you’re joking and this was all just a prank.
Dad: That’s not going to happen, Asher. It’s time to grow up.
Rich, coming from you. Hypocrite. You’re telling us to grow up when you’re the one acting like a fucking child.
I’ve never had a problem expressing my thoughts and feelings. Quite the contrary. In my defense, I’ve been holding them back, even if it doesn’t seem like it. But that restraint is this close to snapping.
Dad: We’re not having this discussion right now. We can meet when I get back. I’m out of town until Friday, and then Adrianna and I are leaving that night.
Dad: I love you both very much. But disrespect me like that again, and there will be consequences.
I chuck my phone across my bedroom, not having a care in the damn world if it breaks into a million pieces. “Fucking bitch.”
A knock sounds on my door.
“It’s Dean.”
“Don’t come in!” I shout back. “I’m pissed off.”
He opens the door anyway. “Yeah, I figured.” He chuckles.
Playing with my hoodie strings, I yank and tighten them, sealing my hood over my eyes. “Go away.”
“You’re being a brat.” Dean laughs.
Something hits my leg—something he threw at me. I keep my smirk at bay, not letting him see my amusement.
“I’m aware,” I groan, blindly reaching and pulling my throw blanket over me in bed.
“Ash,” he says with annoyance and a hint of disappointment. “Sit the fuck up.”
Begrudgingly, I sit up and loosen the hood enough to see him. He’s smiling, and there’s a gleam in his eye that I can’t quite decipher, but if I’m right … it’s defiance.
“I have an idea.” He pauses and smirks. “You’re going to like it.”
“I’m listening.” I push my hood back and give him my full attention, absolutely hype about this rule-breaking side of Dean.
He smirks. “We’re going to throw a party Friday night after they leave.”
That gives us a few days to get everything put together. It’s perfect.
“You’re right.” I snap my fingers. “I fucking love it.”
Morning skate earlier was great, and I’m feeling so hype for tonight’s game. We’re going to destroy the Pirates, just like we did last time.
On top of it, we have the party tomorrow night, which is going to be the cherry on top of life. Dean and I need a win right now, and we’re going to take it if life won’t willingly hand it to us.
My attention is anywhere but on the class I’m heading to.
“Ash! Wait up!”
Fuck.
I recognize the voice—Sadie Anthony, an annoying blonde puck bunny who throws herself at any player on this team. I made the mistake of hooking up with her one time last year, and I’m still paying the price for it, evidently.
Spinning on my heel on the cobblestone walkway, I sigh. “Yes?”
She’s already batting her eyelashes and playing it up. “Any luck finding your mystery girl?”
Oh God, not again.
Sending that message was amazing because it brought our girl out of hiding, but we’ve been swerving a ton of randos, claiming to be her when they’re so obviously not. Including Sadie.
“We did actually,” I say proudly, hooking my thumbs in the straps of my backpack. “Thanks for checking. Anyway, bye.”
I stride away, but she follows.
“Are you sure you have the right girl? How can you be so sure?”
“I’d bet my life on it. So … I think I’m pretty sure,” I argue. “Goodbye, Sadie.”
She fades back, eventually shrinking into the swell of passing students, and I continue on my way toward Lovelace Hall for my programming class.
Will I ever go into a career with this degree? No, probably not—hopefully not because that would mean my hockey career had failed.
But I’m enjoying my time in college, both for hockey and academics. Most of us HEAU hockey players could go professional right now, but we are choosing to stay back and play together. The pro league will be there when our mission here is done.
My phone chimes and I pull it out, a smile taking over my face.
Princess: Hi, handsome.
Hey, baby.
Princess: What are you up to today?
Got a class in a minute. Then getting ready for the game tonight.
Princess: Ooh, I know you guys look good in a suit.
You’d look even better in my jersey.
Princess: I bet I would too. ;)
I’ll get you one right fucking now.
But you have to come to our game.
Princess: You know I can’t yet.
How about the next game?
Princess: When is it?
Tuesday.
Princess: Hmm. I’ll see what I can do.
I’m going to get you a jersey anyway.
Princess: I’d love that.
And I’d love seeing you in it. ;)
We’re having a party tomorrow …
Princess: And? What’s that have to do with me?
Sassy girl … the things I want to do to that mouth of yours …
You should come to the party.
Princess: Is it a party of two people?
Not exactly, but we’d love to have you.
Princess: Ash …
Ugh, I know. I know. I just need to hug you again, kiss you, taste you. I’m dying over here.
Glancing up from my phone, I spot a familiar face—the girl from my house who had marks on her is walking this way, her face buried in her phone with her cheeks fiery red and a sultry smile.
Her blonde hair is cascading down around her face, and with the sunlight hitting her, it looks like it’s glowing.
She’s pretty. I can acknowledge that without it being a thing.
I hope whoever the hell struck her has been dealt with.
As she grows closer, I don’t see any marks on her, and the ones that were there are gone now.
She looks up, her eyes immediately locking on to mine and going wide.
“Hey.” I smile kindly, tucking my phone in my pocket.
Her wide gaze softens, and her lips tip into a sweet smile. “Hi. T-thank you for being so kind the other day.”
She is so nice.
“Of course. Don’t mention it. Everything sorted out?” I ask, hoping she’d come to us for help if she needs it.
She nods, then tilts her head side to side. “Yes, and no. But it will be soon enough.”
“Good.” A realization hits me. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”
Her plump lips part, and her cheeks warm to a pretty rose pink. “Oh, um … my name’s Cirella.”
“Cirella,” I repeat. “It’s nice to meet you.” I offer her my hand. “I’m Asher.”
Hesitantly, she takes it, shaking gently.
My phone vibrates again, and I quickly check it, noticing the time and realizing I’m going to be late. “I gotta get going, but have a good one.”
“Yeah, thanks. You too,” she trails off and strides past me.
Her scent wafts into my nose as she passes, and my heart bursts. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but she triggers a scent memory in my body. One of happiness.
I don’t have time to focus on it because I’ve got to get to class.
I answer Malik’s texts as I race up the stairs into Lovelace Hall.
Malik: Are we still party prepping tomorrow?
Yes. Be there at eight.
Dean replies in the group chat too.
Dean: Don’t be early because we have to wait for our dad and Adrianna to be gone.
Malik: I’m never early.
Malik: Bring anything?
Malik: Also, are you hype for the game tonight?
Asher: Always hype, and, no, just bring yourself.