Chapter 16
The puck slams into the net just as the final buzzer blares. The crowd erupts, a wall of sound crashing over us. I raise my stick, a grin plastering itself across my face despite the exhaustion seeping into my bones.
“Pearson! You beautiful bastard!” Crew crashes into me, nearly taking us both down to the ice. “Four points! Four fucking points!”
I laugh, patting his back. “Fuck yeah!”
“Party at Kappa Pi!” someone yells, and a fresh round of cheers erupts.
I should be riding high. Two goals, two assists. But as I strip off my gear, a heaviness settles in my chest. My mom's voice echoes in my head about James proposing. The woman has been married four times before. Now I have to add another step-dad to the collection.
An hour later, I'm pushing through the doors of Kappa Pi.The place is packed, a sea of bodies swaying to music that's more beat than melody.
“Pearson’s here!” someone shouts, and suddenly I'm surrounded by backslaps and congratulations.
I catch Grey’s eye. He shakes his head at me. And I smirk back. Fucker always hated that I was popular and well-loved. I flip him off and he rolls his eyes.
I paste on my best grin, playing the part even as my head starts to pound in time with the music.
Across the room, I spot Michelle Swift. She's wearing a dress that leaves little to the imagination, her eyes locked on me. Great. Just what I need tonight.
I make my way to an empty couch, claiming it before some drunk couple can turn it into their personal make-out spot. The leather is sticky against my arms – I don't want to know why – but it's better than standing.
“Yo, Matt!” Crew appears, two red cups in hand. He shoves one at me.
I take a sip, grimacing at the taste. “Christ, what is this? Lighter fluid?”
Crew grins. “Secret recipe. Guaranteed to make you forget your own name by midnight.”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” I mutter, handing it back to him. “Not tonight.”
“Ah, come on!” He takes the cup back. When he realizes I’m serious, he sighs. “Guess I’ll go find Dylan.”
As Crew wanders off to find Dylan, I let my eyes roam the party. Harvey’s at the kitchen counter, trying (and failing) to look cool as a group of girls talk to him. Dylan's at the beer pong table with a few other guys.
I should be out there with them. This is supposed to be our celebration. Instead, I'm sitting here like a party pooper, nursing a deep childhood wound that only a mother can bring about. Not to mention this headache alongside it.
“Well, if it isn't the man of the hour.”
I look up to find Michelle standing over me, a smile on her face. Before I can react, she's sliding onto the couch next to me, pressing herself against my side.
“Great game tonight,” she says, her hand finding its way to my thigh. “You were on fire out there.”
I shift away, trying to put some space between us without falling off the couch. “Team effort.” Now I wish I had that drink.
She leans in closer, her perfume overwhelming. “You know, I was thinking about that video.”
“Michelle,” I cut her off, my patience wearing thin. “We've been over this. What you did wasn't cool.”
She pouts, her lower lip sticking out in what I'm sure she thinks is attractive. “Oh, come on, Matt. It was just a bit of fun. You can't still be mad about that. I heard you were bragging about it in the locker room.”
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that causing a scene at a party is not the way to go. “Look, it's not just about the video. We had our fun, but it's over. Done. Finished. How many more ways do I need to say it?”
Her face hardens, all pretense of flirtation dropping away. “You're seriously still hung up on that? God, Matt, I told you I deleted it, but pirates uploaded it again anyway. There’s nothing we can do.”
I'm about to retort when movement by the door catches my eye. For a moment, I think the headache is making me hallucinate. Because there's no way that Amber is walking into this party right now. She refused when I asked her. She rejected the idea. She said absolutely not.
But there she is…with Jen, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. But damn, she’s in a red dress, looking every bit of––even with that ridiculous flannel shirt, she's turning heads.
My brain short-circuits for a moment. There's no way she's here for me, right? Jen must have bribed her or blackmailed her.
“Matt? Are you even listening to me?” Michelle's voice brings me back to reality.
“Sorry, what?” I say, not taking my eyes off Amber.
Michelle follows my gaze, her expression souring. “Oh, I see. You're into the Grind Stone girl now?”
I don't bother responding. I watch as Jen makes a beeline for Harvey, leaving Amber standing awkwardly by herself and observing the dance floor like it's some kind of alien mating ritual.
Before I know what I'm doing, I'm on my feet. “I already told you how it is, Michelle.”
As I make my way through the crowd, I can't help but wonder what I'm even going to say to Amber. 'Hey, nice flannel'? 'Come here often'? God, when have I ever been this nervous? It must be the headache.
But as I get closer, I realize I don't care. For the first time all night, I feel a spark of something other than annoyance. And if nothing else, riling up Amber is always guaranteed to be entertaining.
I slide up next to her, adopting my most nonchalant pose. “I didn't think parties were your scene, Grind Stone girl.”
Amber jumps slightly, her hand clutching her chest. She turns to face me, her eyes narrowing. “Matt. Don’t you have a list of women to tend to? I’m sure they’re all dying to talk to you instead.”
I shrug. “I had to say hi to my friend.”
She laughs. “Friends…right. In your dreams, maybe.”
“Oh, so you're dreaming about me now?” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively. “I'm flattered.”
Amber rolls her eyes so hard I'm worried they might get stuck. “You're impossible.”
I’m leaning down, so I look up at her. Her eyes meet mine. She’s wearing makeup, and her hair is in that cute messy bun. “You came,” I muster the courage to point out.
She inhales, her breasts pressing against the straight line of her dress. I don’t have to look down to notice it. I swear I’m not peeking. This is all happening in my peripherals.
“I did,” she says, covering herself with the flannel.
I stick out my hand. “Then let’s make the most of it.”
Hesitating, she blushes and takes my hand.
I pull her through the crowd until we’re in the middle of the dance floor.
She’s watching me closely as I release her hand and start dancing.
She covers her face with her hands, smiling.
I let my body feel the rhythm of the music, and my feet move to the beat.
She’s embarrassed at first, but then she starts to move her body and I’m relieved.
We start dancing together, and I feel a little more alive and a lot less lost.
She grabs my shoulders when I get too close for her liking. She laughs in my face when I start to do the shimmy back and forth. Then she breaks into a funny dance move, so now I’m laughing with her. The headache I had earlier disappears.
And this place right here.
I was meant to be here.
Dancing with Amber.
Making her laugh.
Under her gaze.
Her fingertips graze my hand, so I gently reach for her. When she lets me grab her waist under her flannel, I glance down at her plush lips. Her smile drops as she observes me. I’m loving her face this close. I never want it to end.
As I look deep into her eyes, I’ve never seen them shine like this before. It’s like stars are in them, and I’m wondering if they’re for me. I search her face for any ideas of what she’s thinking.
As for me? It’s just her. Only her.
I don’t belong anywhere but here. Her fingers fall on the back of my neck, and her touch electrifies every nerve in my body.
I pull her into me as she watches closely.
Our noses touch, and when I feel her breath on mine, it’s like she’s giving me life.
I glide the tip of my nose on her cheek.
She inhales, clutching at my neck. I search her eyes on what I can do next, and I think I have permission, but I don’t push.
The song changes to something faster, so I move my hips. She laughs, removes her hold on my neck, and starts dancing to the beat.
I watch her, enjoying the show.
As I watch her laugh, I know I’m a dead man.
Because that laugh is my favorite sound. And that smile makes my stomach do flips.
I look down at her, appreciating this side of her.
Fuck, I’m in for it.