Chapter 5
JETT
TWO HOURS LATER
Idon’t know why I’m nervous, but the closer my crew and I get to Ethan’s frat house, the more I want to run in the opposite direction. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m the winner, he’s the loser, and I’ve got nothing to be worried about.
My unease continues to build as we climb the steps to the house.
We’re all wearing our Crew T-shirts, but mine feels like it shrunk in the wash.
I tug at the collar, wondering why the hell the damn thing is suddenly so fucking tight.
I can already hear what sounds like a party going on, and Archie nudges me with his elbow.
“What’s up with you?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I reply automatically.
He raises one eyebrow, and I offer a sigh.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m feeling off.”
“The shock of your breakup is finally sinking in?”
I shake my head.
“Oddly enough, no. I mean, I’m still rightfully pissed at Renner, but that’s not it.”
I don’t want to face Ethan. Something about the guy has all my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. Then I realize that I’m probably overreacting. My anxiety always gets intense during competitions, and even though today was all in good fun, I guess my mind doesn’t know the difference.
Or maybe Archie’s right and it really is about Renner. Knowing that asshole cheated on me is going to take some time to deal with.
“Well, you might be onto something,” I admit.
“In a week’s time, you won’t remember his name.”
“But I’ll still see him around campus,” I grumble.
“Be grateful Renner’s not in the same department, he doesn’t live in the dorms, and he hates sports. It’s doubtful you’re going to run into him again, except maybe at socials.”
“I have a horrible feeling that Hailey was only one of many,” I confess and lower my voice. “And on that, prior to the game, I… I went to get tested. I’m fucking worried, Arch. I mean, what if he, you know, what if he gave me something?”
“Better to know now rather than later,” Archie offers with an arm around my shoulders. “At least you’re doing the right thing by getting tested early. You’re gonna be fine.”
“Always so confident.”
“Not always.” Archie smiles and shakes his head. “But I try.”
Like me, Archie was raised by his grandmother, and he doesn’t like to talk about his parents or family much because there’s nothing good to talk about.
His home life was shit—his words, not mine.
Archie, like every member of our crew, has fought hard to get where he is.
Unlike Ethan and his frat bros, all of whom are probably legacy admissions.
Then again, Ethan was good enough for a spot on the hockey team, so I suppose he has to have some talent.
I stalk up to the door and rap on it, then I take a step back and run my hands down my thighs. My palms are damp, I’m sweating through my shirt, and my face is hot. I glance around and my friends are all staring at me like they’re concerned.
“What?” I ask.
“You’d think you were the one getting cue-balled,” Hudson quips, and the rest of the guys laugh.
When the door opens, I expect to be greeted by a cocky hockey forward with intense eyes.
Instead, it’s one of Ethan’s frat brothers.
I met him once, but his name eludes me. It’s Matty…
I think. Fuck, I can’t recall. Faces I’m good with, but names, not so much.
The guy’s cute—in a preppy way—with a perfect smile, ash-brown curls, and black-framed glasses.
“It’s the Crew, our guests of honor!”
“I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Jett,” I offer, along with my hand.
“Marshall.” He shakes it, and I feel myself start to settle down. “And you’re right. I mean, we bumped into each other at Ethan’s birthday blowout, but I honestly don’t remember much about that night. Everyone was partying hard.”
“Yeah, the whole night is hazy,” I reply and then do the introductions all around.
He motions for our group to enter the house.
“We’re still waiting on a few of the hockey team to arrive, and then the fun really begins.”
Marshall’s smile turns downright naughty as he rubs his hands together. It tells me that he’s looking forward to tonight’s antics as much as we are.
“I have to say, this is quite the turn of events. I’m not used to seeing Ethan lose at anything,” Marshall continues.
“Every dog has his day,” I reply.
“I heard that.”
Suddenly Ethan appears in the doorway wearing tight, worn jeans and a white T-shirt that’s so thin it’s almost transparent. It doesn’t matter that he looks like he’s rolled out of bed, he still looks fucking gorgeous.
It irks me like nothing else.
Asshole.
“I only speak the truth,” I snap back.
Ignoring his glare, I look around and spy most of the hockey team gathered in the living room. It’s a low-key party, not wall-to-wall students, ear-shattering music, and beer like it was last week. Not yet, anyway.
“See you in the kitchen,” Ethan mutters.
He turns on his heel and stalks off.
The guy might be the loser in this scenario, but his swagger is still confident as fuck. And why I notice is beyond me.
“Kitchen?” I ask Marshall.
“No carpeting. Easier clean up.”
“Right.”
Marshall cocks his head.
“Let’s get this party started. How about a round of shots?”
“I don’t think we’re the ones who need a drink, but why not?”
We follow Marshall to where the Cougars are gathered, and after a round of fist bumps, we all make our way to the back of the house.
The kitchen is surprisingly neat and clean, and my gaze drifts to the fifty or so shots lined up on the island.
Either we’re having a shit ton to drink tonight or they’re expecting more students to arrive.
I also notice several electric razors lying on the counter, ready and waiting for us, and when I glance up, Ethan’s staring daggers at me.
It’s unnerving, but I refuse to look away.
Without thinking, I reach for a shot. Holding his gaze, I bring it up to my mouth and swallow it down in one go.
It’s surprisingly good tequila, not the cheap shit.
I relish the burn and reach for another, but Ethan leans forward and gives my hand a teasing smack.
“Mind your manners, Sugar,” Ethan quips. “Everyone else needs to take a shot.”
There’s a round of jeers and whistles. I shake my head at that stupid nickname and offer Ethan a rude gesture as my reply. We let the hockey team grab their shots, one in each hand, and then the rest of us take ours.
“Are we ready to do this?” Dane asks his teammates.
“Ready, Cap!” they reply in unison, and everyone downs their shots.
We slam the empty glasses on the counter and reach for more.
“Marshall, you may start filming,” Dane adds with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Crew, you may grab your razors.”
Ethan’s frat brother pulls up his phone and starts to record.
There are four stools set up, and one by one, the Cougars line up and sit down.
First up is Dane, of course, followed by Kayden, Maddox, and Axel.
I reach for a razor, and so does Hudson, Archie, and our crew captain Felix.
There’s a lot of laughing and jokes as the room fills with the telltale buzzing sound.
Felix starts with Dane, and the hockey captain is cool as ever, not even flinching when the razor hits his scalp.
Archie gets Maddox, who looks pissed off as usual.
Thankfully, I’m tasked with Kayden, who’s all smiles, and Hudson gets Axel, who’s too busy blowing kisses to his boyfriend to notice his haircut.
“Take it all off, baby!” Jace calls out to Axel.
One round of shaving and most of their hair is gone, but it takes a second round to get their buzz cuts just right. All the guys are good sports about it, even Maddox, despite his scowl.
Kayden nudges Maddox.
“You look fucking hot.”
Maddox holds up his phone to take a selfie.
“I look like a fucking hedgehog.”
“A hedgehog with an earring.”
Kayden laughs so hard he nearly falls off his stool.
Maddox turns the phone to his boyfriend.
“Laugh it up, Kaybear.”
Kaybear?
“One more pass and you’re good to go,” I tell Kayden.
I finish Kayden’s shave, then motion for the next player in line. It’s Ethan, of course, and he gives me a glare that tells me he’s never going to forget me or today.
“Come on, hockey boy, you can do this,” I taunt.
“Fuck you, Jett.”
“Nah, you’re not my type.”
This time, it’s his turn to give me the finger. He struts over and sits down in front of me, but his knees are popping so hard he’s rocking back and forth. If he moves any faster, he’s going to knock himself over.
“Stop moving,” I caution him.
I stare at his thick, shiny black hair, and for a microsecond, I feel guilty about destroying it.
“Are you going to stand there and drool over me, Sugar, or are you gonna get shaving?”
His sarcasm makes my guilt disappears faster than his hair. Hair that’s so fucking soft and honestly, gorgeous. It smells as heady as the rest of him, like vanilla and something spicy. Cinnamon? He offers me a side-eye, and my hand starts to shake.
“Next time we’ll grow it out really long so we can donate it,” Ethan offers, and the comment surprises me.
“How long?” Dane asks.
“At least eight inches.”
“Are we still talking about hair?” Jace quips.
“Mine is sixteen,” Silas adds as he sits down in front of Felix. He removes the tie from his man bun. “I’m donating for sure, so special care please. Cut it, bag it, then buzz the rest.”
Meantime, I’m standing with the razor in my hand and Ethan all but vibrating in front of me.
Just do it.
I reach for him, and he stills. When I place the razor near his scalp, he bites his lower lip, and that twinge of remorse flares to life again.
“Hurry up, already,” he snarks.
“You asked for it.”
I finally start, but with each pass of the razor, with every clump of hair that falls away, my heart beats faster and faster, like I’m running rather than shaving. Ethan gets more and more tense, his body rigid, so unlike his usual personality. But hair or no hair, the man is annoyingly hot.
And I want this done and over with so I don’t have to touch him, or his hair, ever again.
Once the first pass is done, I go over it again to smooth things out.
And wouldn’t you know, he looks damn good with a buzz cut.
No, better than good, he looks mature, and all the attention is now on those deep brown eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and full fucking lips.
I mentally kick myself for even noticing.
Maybe there was something else in that shot besides tequila…
When Ethan glances up at me, I can hardly take a breath. Gone is the fun, flirty frat boy, and in his place is someone I don’t recognize.
A guy who’s not to be taken lightly.
“Are you fast?” Ethan asks me.
The sudden question startles me.
“What?”
“Are you fast?” he adds, licking his lips. “I mean, on the water?”
“Of course we’re fast, that’s the point.”
“Not all of it.”
“No. Rowing crew is about skill, speed, and endurance. Pushing yourself to the limit and then some,” I admit. “It’s brutal on your body, but in the most beautiful way.”
Ethan’s gaze looks amused. Fuck me and my big mouth.
“Why do it, then?”
I don’t understand these sudden questions, and weirdly enough, nothing about this convo feels like we’re talking about sports. I want to run again. Run and never look back. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Why do you play hockey?” I ask him.
Ethan smiles slowly, like he’s about to unleash a secret.
“Because I have to. I get on that ice and… it’s hard to describe unless you’ve been there.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Something primal takes over. I have to play, and I always play to win. Every time. It’s so much more than a game.”
I nod even though it pains me to think about the fact that we have something in common. Or anything in common.
This is way more than a game.
My hands are still trembling. I put the razor down and call out for one of my teammates to take my place. I’m done. I’m out of here.
“This feels strange…” Ethan pauses as he runs a hand over his shorn head.
Then he stands up and faces me, and we’re eye to eye again. Way too fucking close. I can’t figure out his expression. It looks like he’s about to lose his temper, or maybe I’m reading into it.
All I know is, he’s not happy. And he’s got his sights set on me.
“And I don’t know that I like it.”
He’s not talking about his goddamn hair.
“I don’t know that I like it either.”