Chapter 4
ETHAN
And it’s all Jett’s fault.
I’ve got too much adrenaline pumping through my veins after telling that dickhead ex of his to get lost. I’m an easygoing guy, but when Renner insulted Jett, when he grabbed him and wouldn’t let go, I wanted to ram my fist into that smug face.
Which is kind of fucked up because since when do I care about getting involved in other people’s business?
Still, Renner crossed a line. Even if Jett and I can’t stand each other, touching someone without their consent isn’t okay.
“Ethan!” Jace calls out. “On your right!”
I whirl around to find Jett whizzing by me like a flash, and he’s so quick I nearly miss him.
He’s gunning for another goal, but I can’t let that happen.
He’s onto me, and as soon as I get near him, he kicks the ball to Hudson.
Back and forth, they pass the ball between them as though they’ve been playing soccer for years.
Dane and Axel get aggressive and surround the duo, but Jett’s footwork makes him a speed demon.
He takes possession again, and somehow bolts past all three of us like a road runner.
Not one to be outdone, I push it as fast as I can and don’t let up.
“You can’t get past me,” I gloat.
“Fuck off,” Jett grunts and tries to pivot.
This time, however, the collision isn’t an accident, and suddenly we’re tussling like a couple of wrestlers. I forget all about the damn ball—the whole fucking point—until I hear Josiah’s dreaded whistle and realize I’ve been an idiot.
“Holding, Ethan!”
“Me?” I shout. “What about Jett? He grabbed my shirt.”
“Did not.”
Jett gives me a smirk as he wipes the sweat from his brow.
I offer him a rude gesture and turn to Josiah.
“Come on, Jo! If I get a penalty, he should too!”
Josiah shakes his head, and I’m so frustrated that I kick the grass until a big chunk of earth goes flying in the air and hits Dane square in the chest. My captain gives me a warning look I know all too well, so I hold up my hands and mouth “sorry.”
“Fucking hell,” I mutter.
“Like I said earlier, you’re so damn easy.”
Jett licks his lips, and I can’t for the life of me stop staring at him.
“Huh?”
“Easy,” Jett repeats, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Take your best shot, Sugar.”
Jett ignores my taunt and runs over to take his spot for the free kick. I join my teammates, ready to throw myself in front of that ball if necessary. Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. I don’t want any injuries; I have a hockey season to play.
“If we lose this game, Ethan, you’re not just shaving your head, you’re going to lose all your body hair,” Silas snarks.
“Why’re you picking on me? This is a team sport. What happened to our ‘we win together’ motto?”
Silas gives me the eye roll.
“You don’t make stupid penalties on the ice, so why’re you doing it now?”
I snap my mouth shut and sigh.
“Exactly,” Silas adds. “Stop letting Jett get to you.”
“I’m not.”
It’s a lie, but I’m going with it.
Ignoring Silas’s knowing smirk, I gather with the guys and wait for Jett to take his kick. The ball slides low, between our players, but thankfully Maddox is quick enough and blocks the shot.
“Yes!’ I shout with both hands in the air.
Unfortunately, my high is short-lived.
This is soccer and there’s no wasting time.
We’re back to regular play and it’s still anyone’s game with ten minutes left.
Jackson gets hold of the ball and he’s as fast as Jett.
Despite Axel and Jace going after him, when Jackson gets an opening, he slams it with precision.
Maddox does his best, but the shot flies over his hands, and the goal is so fast that if you blinked, you’d have missed it.
Fuck, the game is now 2–1 for the Crew.
This time, I’m not angry; I’m in shock. I run an agitated hand through my sweaty hair as I start to shiver. I don’t ever concede defeat, not until the clock runs out, but I’ve got a bad, bad feeling in my gut.
We keep going and make every play count—running faster, charging harder. But still, no goal for the Cougars.
Josiah gives us the signal when there’s only a minute left, and my skin starts to prickle with unease. I’m hot, frustrated, and about to lose my goddamn head.
No, not my head, my hair…
Dane makes a valiant attempt at another goal, but he’s no match for the Crew’s defense.
The final whistle blows, and I hang my head, unable, for the first time, to meet Jett’s gaze, which I can feel on my back like a fucking brand.
“Is this really happening?” Dane asks me as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair. “Did we lose?”
“Yep. Thank fuck it’s not hockey.”
I try to picture myself without my hair, and I don’t care if it’s vain, but I don’t like it.
Losing my mane means I probably won’t get laid for the rest of the semester.
Bad enough I’m dealing with a dry spell.
Never thought I’d ever admit that, even to myself, but it’s the truth.
I hardly got laid during the summer. The girls in my hometown want to date me, not fuck me.
Well, they want to fuck too, but in the hopes it’ll mean something more. Not to me. Sex is fun and that’s it.
To make matters worse, when I got back to campus, most of my usual hookups were either too busy fucking someone else or in serious relationships.
Yuck. I don’t believe in love or dating or any of that shit.
Love makes people crazy. This I know firsthand, thanks to my parents.
Even after a decade being divorced, my mom and dad still have nothing nice to say to each other.
To this day, I don’t even know how they managed to stay together long enough to have me and my siblings.
“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” Dane quips as he nudges my arm.
“No.”
Maybe.
“If anything, I’ll look hotter with a shaved head.”
I don’t believe my own words, but I’m good at faking it. In fact, given how shitty my sex life has been, faking it is becoming all too common for me.
“Glad to see the loss hasn’t dimmed your ego.”
“It’ll take a lot more than losing a soccer game or losing my hair,” I reply and grin at my friend. “I think we deserve a rematch. What do you say?”
Dane shakes his head.
“I think I’m done with soccer.”
“Fair enough.”
We line up and shake hands with the Crew.
When it’s my turn to congratulate Jett, I take his hand in a grip that’s a little too forceful.
Not that he seems to mind since he’s doing the same to me.
We stand there for what seems like an eternity, neither one of us letting go, staring off in a ridiculous stalemate.
“Good game,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
I’m choking on my words. Admitting defeat is like sucking down cheap alcohol; no matter how you drink it, it always burns.
“You’re not going to renege, are you?” Jett asks, his green eyes full of amusement.
He gives me a wicked grin and it sparks something fierce inside me.
“Fuck no,” I hiss. “What kind of person do you think I am?”
I don’t wimp out on bets, and I never go back on my word. Not now, not ever.
“So, why wait? How about we meet up at your frat house in say, two hours?” Jett continues. “We can do the whole team at once.”
“Like an orgy?”
“Hilarious.” Jett pauses and looks down at our joined grip. “Can I have my hand back?”
Finally, I relent and let go of him. My hand tingles. Not only my hand, my entire arm. Maybe I’m having some kind of heart issue, because my head is pounding and my chest is tight. I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin at any moment.
“Let’s do this again. But next time, another sport. Volleyball? Lacrosse?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Sugar,” I tease. “I know you want to kick my ass again.”
“Tempting, but no.”
He moves to step away, and I fight the urge to stop him. Clearly I need a drink and a lie down.
“Are you heading back to the dorm?” I ask.
Jett pauses and turns back to face me.
“Yeah, why?”
“I mean, given how Renner acted earlier—”
“He was running his mouth,” Jett interrupts. “It’s fine.”
It’s none of my business anyway. Why should I care about his relationship drama? No thanks.
“Right. Of course. See you at the house.”
Instead of looking away, I watch as Jett and his teammates head off the field.
“Are you done flirting, Walrus?” Silas’s voice echoes behind me.
Thank fuck Jett is out of earshot and he misses my ridiculous nickname. It’s all Silas’s doing. I can’t grow a playoff beard for anything, so he likes to tease me about my whiskers. Can I help it if I’m not a hairy beast like the rest of the guys I play with?
“Don’t be jealous of my glass skin,” I hit back.
“Your what?”
“Don’t get him started, Si,” Finn warns. “So, what’s the plan for the shave off?”
“We’re meeting up at the frat house in two hours to do the deed,” I announce. “All of us.”
“Damien’s going to have my ass,” Silas grumbles.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
I get a middle finger for my sarcasm.
“My husband likes my long hair,” Silas counters.
“I’m sure you and the coach can roleplay when you walk in the door looking like another person. But me and the rest of the single guys?” I huff. “I mean, I’ll still be hot, but the rest of you will need to up your game if you want to get laid.”
Suddenly, Dane, Jace, Axel, and the rest of the team surround us.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Finn replies with a grin, and Silas and I both stare at him. “What? I think I’m going to like a buzz cut. No annoying cowlick to deal with.”
“Do the freckles extend to your scalp?” I tease.
“Hey, the freckles are cute.” Finn chuckles. “My ex-girlfriend thought so.”
“It’s time to get G.I. Jane’d!” Jace calls out.
“Seriously? What’s wrong with you? Are you happy that we lost?” I clap back.
“Never, but I’m with Finn.” Jace smirks. “I’m going to rock the buzz cut.”
“Am I the only one who’s panicking?” I ask.
“Yes!” everyone shouts back.
“Okay.” I laugh, even if it’s at myself. “Just checking.”
We saunter off the field, and while most of the guys are heading back to the dorms, I’m going back to the house.
Sometimes I wish it was first year again, and I was living in the dorm with my hockey teammates.
I’m close to all the guys, some of them more than my frat brothers.
Hockey binds us together, and it’s a bond I don’t take for granted.
No matter where we go from here, we’re never going to forget our time with the Cougars.
The house is only a short walk from campus, and thank God, because I desperately need to shower, eat, and maybe have a fortifying drink. Or three.
When I arrive, two of my frat brothers, Marshall and Gage, are sitting on the porch, a bottle of beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other.
They’re seniors, like me, and pledged the same year.
We’ve been through a lot together—not just parties and good times, but life stuff too, like when Gage’s father passed suddenly six months ago.
No matter what, I can count on them to have my back, and I always have theirs.
“I can tell by that sulky look on your face that you lost,” Marshall quips.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sorry we missed the game,” Gage adds. “We had a study session, and it lasted forever.”
“You didn’t miss anything, except us getting trounced by the Crew. Everyone’s meeting up here to do the honors.” I point to my head. “At least you get to watch that.”
“Awesome.” Marshall raises his beer. “I’m taking pics to document this historic moment.”
“Please no.”
“Oh yes.”
I shake my head. “Oh no.”
“Come on, Ean, it’s like pledging. Suck it up and deal.”
“You’re as cutthroat as Jett,” I reply. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys were rooting for me to lose that game.”
“Us? Never.”
My brothers’ annoying smiles say otherwise.