Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Jamie
Standing next to Preston, I stare in horror at the computer screen.
Trent is sitting in front of the desk in the room he shares with Tucker, his hand covering the mouse, scrolling down the webpage.
Tucker’s face scrunches in anger as he reads Dethroned—a new gossip blog targeting our team—over Trent’s shoulder.
A girl who calls herself The Queen has pictures of each of us with random girls on her website.
Tucker is half naked in most of them and never without a beer in hand.
Preston looks trashed. Drake has his hand down his pants in one, most likely whipping out his dick.
Sick fucker does that all the time, and he’s proud of it.
Trent has his face shoved between some girl’s tits in one picture.
None of us look good right now. Though, of us all, I look the best. At least, I’m fully clothed and not completely shitfaced. I’m speechless as I read the blog post.
Dethroned
October Edition
I wonder what the NCAA would say about hot shot hockey stud, Tucker Kane, pounding beers and eating mystery brownies at the Delta Sig house on Saturday. Are those pot brownies, Tucker? Only a drug test will tell…
XO,
The Queen
Tucker got super trashed last night and ate a handful of pot brownies.
He was so high and drunk Drake and Trent had to carry him home over their shoulders and put him to bed.
It was kind of embarrassing. Lately, Tuck has been on a major bender, and now he’s given The Queen new material.
From what I can tell, our hockey team is the subject of this girl’s blog, and she has it out for us. Why? That’s the question of the hour.
One of us must have pissed off this girl.
Why else would anyone want to attack us?
Our parents are rich, with plenty of money to get this website shut down in a second.
But getting our parents involved is the last thing any of us want to do.
Preston is the only one who runs to his parents when shit gets rough.
Trent pushes his chair out from the desk and threads his fingers together behind his head, staring at Tucker. “Dude, you’re fucked if you don’t find out who’s writing this gossip column.”
Uncrossing his arms, Tucker lets out a deep breath. “Who would do this? Is there a way to find out who’s writing this shit?”
Preston squeezes Tucker’s shoulder, shaking his head at the computer screen.
“We can find out who owns the domain. But think of this as your wake-up call, Tuck. All of your screwing around is catching up with you. Time to get your shit together. Stop drinking. Hire a tutor. Spend less time at the Delta Sig house. We need you on your A-game this season if we want to win another championship.”
“Yeah, I got it, Prez. For the hundredth time, I got it.” Shaking Preston off, Tucker steps away from him, inching toward the door. “I’ll figure it out. Okay?”
Preston nods and then shoves his hands into the pockets of his track pants.
The guys in this room are my family. Our parents are best friends, so we never spent a birthday or a holiday apart.
I think of them as brothers more than friends.
There’s a common link between us that no one can touch.
I would do anything for them, and the feeling is mutual.
We’ve always gone to the same schools and played hockey together.
Now we play Division I hockey for the Strickland Senators and live in a house on campus with some of our teammates.
I’m closest to Preston, mostly because my dad has been his mom’s best friend since childhood.
They grew up in Chicago together, lived in the same foster home, and moved to Philadelphia together where they both attended Villanova University.
Our parents are complete opposites in every way.
But I know they both will agree we’re all fucked if we don’t figure out who’s writing this blog.
We look at each other, unsure of what to do, concern written on all of our faces. I can track down the owner of the website as long as this queen has left me a trail to uncover. Whoever she is, she’s going down.
Tucker tugs at the ends of his bleach blond hair in frustration and leans back against the chest of drawers behind him. “We need to stop whoever’s doing this.”
“I’ll call my dad,” Preston offers. “Maybe he can hire someone.”
Typical Preston move.
“Nah.” Tucker waves him off. “We’re not involving our parents. Our team is being targeted for a reason. You could be next. Any of us could be next. And who knows what this bitch will say next. We need to take her down before it ruins our careers.”
“She’s got to be a student at Strick U,” Trent says.
“How do you expect us to track her down?” Drake asks.
Tucker points at me. “Jamie can find out.” His pale blue eyes find mine. “Right? Tell me you can hack into something and shut this website down.”
I love how they always assume I can do anything with computers. Mostly, they’re right. But I have a bad feeling about The Queen.
Laughing off his comment, I shrug. “I’m good, but not that good.”
“Let Jamie sit there,” Tucker tells Trent, who vacates his seat in front of the computer for me.
I roll the chair into the desk and do a quick domain search. It’s private. I’d already expected that.
“The domain is private,” I say.
Tucker grunts, rolling his eyes. “So, we can’t find out who owns it?”
I shake my head, spinning around in the chair to face my friends. “No, but there might be another way. I can try tracking their IP address. But I’ll need more time.”
“Until then…” Preston’s tone commands authority, “… all of you need to stay out of trouble.” He looks at Tucker. “Stay the hell away from the Delta Sig guys.”
Tucker pouts. “I’m not avoiding my friends because of one article.”
He practically lives at the Delta Sigma Phi house. Keeping Tuck away from those guys will be a challenge, even for Preston, who’s our team captain. He has a way with our team, which makes him the perfect leader.
“Whatever.” Preston frowns. “But no more parties or pot brownies.”
Tucker rolls his eyes at Preston. “You sound like my dad right now.”
Eyes narrowed, Preston opens his mouth to speak.
Shockingly, he doesn’t yell at Tucker. They go at it all the time, it’s like listening to a husband and wife bicker.
All of us are sick of hearing them curse each other out over Tucker acting like an irresponsible asshole.
His lack of caring has hurt our team this year.
And with hockey season just starting, we’re already down Tucker and Trent for the first few games.
The doorbell rings, which comes as a welcome relief.
I push myself up from the chair and head toward the door. “That’s probably Shannon.”
No one tries to stop me as I leave the room. Before I hit the landing at the top of the stairs, Preston is behind me. “Hey, wait up, J.” I turn around to look at him, and he continues, “Can you do something about this girl?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think so. Just because she was smart enough to pay extra money for private domain registration doesn’t mean she can hide her IP from me. Not unless she knows what she’s doing.”
“If anyone can find her, it’s you.”
Shrugging, I say, “I’ll do my best. Just don’t get your dad involved, okay? Give me some time to look into the website before you do something stupid.”
He snorts. “Telling my dad isn’t stupid.”
“You don’t have to run to him every time you have a problem.”
“I don’t,” he growls. “We’re close, you know that. I tell my dad everything.”
“A little too much.”
He snickers at my comment.
We descend the stairs, and I can hear Shannon’s sweet voice filling the air.
Killian Kade—a right winger who lives in the house with us—is talking to Shannon about school.
Apparently, they share a class. She knows everyone on campus.
Most of the sorority girls seem to be friends with everyone, especially those in our inner circles.
The Greeks and the jocks stick together at Strickland University. We’re like one big clique.
Until last night, I had never thought about kissing Shannon.
She’s beautiful and smart and sweet. I can always talk to her without judgment.
She never shares what I tell her, and I enjoy talking to her.
But I have no interest in anything serious.
After everything that happened with Cece over the summer, I’m not ready for another relationship.
“Hey,” Shannon says, her face glowing when she sees me. “You ready?”
Preston gives me a confused look. “Where are you going?”
Sometimes, he can act too much like a parent.
“Not that it’s any of your business, Dad,” I say. “But we’re eating breakfast at Broad Street Beans.”
His eyebrow rises slightly, his gaze shifting between Shannon and me, and then he smiles. “Oh, okay… have fun.”
I know what he’s thinking without him saying it.
Preston has been hoping I would meet someone else to get Cece out of my head.
What he doesn’t realize is that I will never shake her.
She’s the one woman who gets me, even if she’s a miserable bitch.
No one has ever come close to reaching Cece’s level in my mind. But maybe Shannon can change that.
“Bring me back one of those scone things,” Killian says, and Shannon laughs.
She taps him on the arm and snorts. “Scone things.”
Killian shrugs. “You know what I mean. The one with the chocolate in it.”
“I make those all the time at the bakery,” Shannon says. “They’re called chocolate chip scones.”
“Then, what are you waiting for?” Killian holds out his hand, motioning for Shannon to get in the kitchen.
She covers her mouth and chuckles, a blush creeping up to her pale cheeks. “Maybe another time.”
“Stop hitting on my girl,” I say to Killian.
Everyone’s head snaps in my direction, and now I realize my mistake. Shannon isn’t my girl. But I felt somewhat protective over her when Killian tried to stake his claim.