Chapter 2
GAbrIEL
I SHOW UP TO TAJ’S place around ten, and the party is already going strong. I can feel the shift in energy the second I walk through the door. Someone calls my name from across the room, and a group near the kitchen raises their cups in my direction.
Being the captain of the hockey team means a lot at Northstone, and I’ve gotten used to the attention. More than used to it, actually. I’ve learned how to use it.
Taj pushes through the crowd and claps me on the shoulder. “Finally. I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I had to finish some stuff,” I say, even though I didn’t.
I just like making an entrance when the party’s already going and when everyone’s loose enough to be entertaining but not sloppy yet.
“The keg’s in the back, but I’ve got the good stuff in the kitchen if you want it.”
I nod and follow Taj through the living room. People reach out to touch my arm or shoulder as I pass, and I give them the smile they want. Easy and confident, as if I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
In the kitchen, Taj pours some vodka into a cup and slides the bottle toward me, but I grab the orange juice instead and pretend to add some vodka. I learned this trick during my freshman year. Nobody asks questions if you’re holding a cup and acting as if you’re drinking.
The truth is I don’t touch alcohol during the season because nothing can mess with my performance on the ice. But I’m not about to explain that to everyone because then they’d think I’m some uptight asshole who can’t have fun.
I take a sip of my juice and scan the room. The usual crowd is here. My teammates, puck bunnies, and the girls from my classes who’ve been trying to get my attention all semester. It’s predictable, but that’s fine because predictable is easy.
“Gabriel!”
I turn and find Ashlyn moving toward me. She’s blonde and eager, and she’s been flirting with me for weeks. She stops too close, her hand landing on my chest as if she has a right to touch me.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my tone friendly but not too interested.
“I was hoping you’d show up.” She leans in, and I can smell whatever sweet perfume she’s wearing. “So, would you fight for me on the ice? Like if someone said something about me... would you throw down your gloves?”
I laugh because the question is so fucking stupid I can’t help it. “Maybe.”
She grins as if I’ve just promised her the world, but the truth is I’d never fight on the ice for a girl.
I don’t fight at all if I can help it because fighting is what guys do when they lose control, and I don’t do that.
I’m too smart for it. Throwing away my career because some asshole chirped about a girl I’m barely interested in would be the kind of dumb shit that ruins everything.
Ashlyn keeps talking, but I’m barely listening.
She’s an idiot, and I’m already considering whether it’s worth sleeping with her just to get her off my back.
I don’t do relationships, second dates, sleepovers, or any of that bullshit.
One night, and then I’m done. It works for me and keeps things simple.
But even as I’m thinking about it, I’m already scanning the room for someone more interesting. Someone who’ll actually be worth my time.
My gaze lands on a girl.
She’s standing near the wall, holding a cup and looking as if she’s not quite sure what to do with herself. Her dress looks more like something to wear to church rather than to a party. But her long, dark hair, big dark eyes, and curves make me stop and stare for a second longer than I should.
She’s gorgeous. And probably new, since I haven’t seen her around before, and I’d remember.
I tune out whatever Ashlyn is saying and focus on the girl instead. She looks sweet, a little awkward, and completely out of place. She seems like the kind of girl who probably grew up going to Sunday school and has no idea what she’s gotten herself into.
A smile spreads across my lips.
I like a challenge, and she looks like an easy target. Sweet girls always are because they think guys like me are charming and exciting, and by the time they realize what’s actually happening, it’s too late.
I put on my best grin and excuse myself from Ashlyn, ignoring the disappointment on her face. She’ll get over it.
I make my way across the room, weaving through the groups of people until I’m right in front of the girl. Up close, she’s even better. Soft features, full lips, and something about her screams innocent.
“Hey,” I say, letting my voice drop into the smooth, easy tone that usually works. “I’m Gabriel.”
She looks up at me, and for a second, I think she’s going to blush, stammer, or do something predictably cute. But she just smiles politely.
“I’m Scarlett.”
“Scarlett,” I repeat, testing it out. “Pretty name. I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I just transferred.”
“Welcome to Northstone.” I lean against the wall next to her, close enough that she has to tilt her head to look at me. “So, what brings you to Taj’s party? You don’t really look like the party type.”
She glances down at her dress, and there’s a flicker of something in her expression. Embarrassment, maybe. “I wanted to meet new people.”
“Well, now you’ve met me.” I grin, letting my gaze lower for just a second before meeting her eyes again. “Lucky you.”
She laughs, but it’s not the reaction I’m expecting. It’s not flirty or nervous. It’s just polite, as if I’ve said something mildly amusing but not particularly interesting.
“So, what do you do here?” she asks, and her tone is so earnest it almost throws me off.
“I play hockey. I’m the team’s captain.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
Nice? She says it as if I’ve just told her I’m in the chess club or something. I wait for the usual follow-up, the questions about games, or the impressed look that girls always give me when they find out who I am. But she just sips her drink and looks around the room as if she’s already bored.
I shift my weight and try again. “Hockey keeps me pretty busy, but I always make time for other things.”
She just nods as if she didn’t understand what I’m implying.
“That’s good,” she says. “Balance is important.”
Balance? What the fuck? Is she serious?
I stare at her mouth because I can’t help it. All I can think about is what her full lips would look like wrapped around my cock. She’s playing dumb, or maybe she really is that innocent. Either way, it’s intriguing.
“So, Scarlett,” I say, leaning in a little closer. “What are you studying?”
“Psychology.”
“Interesting. Are you planning to psychoanalyze me?”
She smiles again. “I don’t think I’m qualified for that yet.”
She’s deflecting, and it’s starting to annoy me. Girls don’t usually deflect. They lean in and laugh at everything I say and make it easy.
But this one isn’t making it easy, and that just makes me want her more.
“Well, if you ever need a subject for your studies, I’m happy to volunteer,” I say, flashing her another grin.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She’s still not biting. Her relaxed posture tells me that she’s not nervous or intimidated. She’s just not interested.
And that pisses me off.
I’m the captain of the hockey team. Girls don’t look at me as if I’m just another guy at a party. They don’t smile politely and sip their drinks as if they’re waiting for me to leave.
But maybe that’s what makes this fun. She’s a challenge, and I’m good at challenges.
“Are you religious or something?” I ask, nodding toward her dress.
Her eyebrows lift. “Not really. Why?”
“It just seems like you’re not really into this scene.”
“I’m fine,” she says, and there’s something in her tone that’s almost dismissive.
I study her for another second, trying to figure her out. She’s playing a game, or she’s genuinely this naive, but either way, I’m going to have her. I don’t care how long it takes.
Unless she’s into girls, but it doesn’t look like she’s watching them either.
“Well, if you need anything, let me know,” I say, pushing myself off the wall. “I’ll be around.”
She nods, and I walk away before she can see the frustration building in my chest.
I grab another cup from the kitchen and scan the room again. Ashlyn is still hovering nearby, and there’s a brunette I’ve seen at a few parties, who’s been watching me since I walked in.
I decide to test something. I go over to the brunette and start talking to her, letting my hand rest on her waist. She leans into me immediately, laughing at something I say, and I glance over my shoulder to see if Scarlett’s watching.
She’s not.
She’s talking to someone else now. It’s some guy I don’t recognize, and she doesn’t even glance in my direction.
What the fuck?
I turn back to the brunette, but I’m already losing interest. She’s boring and predictable, and the whole thing feels like a waste of time. I pull away and mutter something about needing air, leaving her confused.
I head outside and lean against the railing, staring out at the yard. My jaw is tight, and I can feel the frustration simmering under my skin.
Scarlett doesn’t know who I am, or she doesn’t care. And that shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
I’ll make her care. I’ll make her want me, and when I’m done with her, she’ll be just like every other girl who thought she was different.
She’ll be mine.