16. Madison
MADISON
I sit in the front row at Hayden’s game, my knees bouncing slightly as I glance around. The stands are packed, students filling every seat, their chatter rising over the sound of the pre-game music blasting through the speakers.
I shift in my seat, tugging at the oversized hockey jersey Kirsten shoved at me when she picked me up. I look ridiculous in it, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips, and I’m trying to remind myself that I agreed to this. My legs feel like they’re still wobbling from the orgasm he gave me.
The sound of a buzzer jolts me back to the present, and I look up as the players start skating onto the ice. Hayden moves with a confidence that’s impossible to ignore, his broad shoulders straight, his movements sharp and deliberate. I expect him to focus on the game, but instead, his head tilts slightly, his gaze scanning the crowd.
And then his eyes lock on me.
Even from here, I can see the change in him. His shoulders drop just slightly, the tension in his body melting away as he holds my gaze. The intensity in his eyes sends a flush creeping up my neck, and I look away quickly, pretending to adjust the hem of my jersey.
I don’t understand how he can be so focused on me. This thing between us is spinning out of control. What I let him…no, what I wanted him to do to me last night under that table could have ended very badly. At any moment, the bottom could drop out, and I need to be prepared.
The buzzer blares, pulling me from my thoughts, and the players take their positions. I glance at the scoreboard as the puck drops, and the game begins with a flurry of movement.
“Let’s go, Castlebrook!” Kirsten yells beside me and it feels like she’s screaming directly in my eardrum. Winter doesn’t make a sound because she’s just staring at Tristan who is guarding the net. Bethany is with us tonight, so that’s been awkward, but I’m doing my best to ignore her. Every time I glance over, she’s watching me.
“Are you okay? You seem dazed.” Kirsten might as well have a megaphone because she’s talking to Winter, but I can hear every word even over the noise in the arena. “You’re not going to bail on the bonfire after the game again, right?”
Winter smiles softly and just nods. I make a mental note to see if she needs to talk or anything when Kirsten and Bethany aren’t around because her eyes are glassy, and she looks as if she hasn’t slept in days.
I focus on the ice, trying to follow the flow of the game. Callum takes control of the puck, weaving between the opposition with sharp, precise movements. His stickhandling is impressive, the puck seems like an extension of him as he skates down the ice, dodging two defenders.
“Come on, Callum!” someone shouts. I watch as he winds up, sending the puck flying toward Hayden, who’s positioned near the goal.
Hayden isn’t paying attention to the puck. His gaze flicks toward me again, just for a second, and it’s enough to throw him off. The puck slides past him, and one of the opposing players snatches it up, skating it down the ice.
That’s when I see who I’m assuming is Hayden’s coach. He’s in a suit with a clipboard and a cellphone. He’s pacing and yelling something that I obviously can’t hear. He shoves the phone in his pocket and rakes his hand through his graying hair before angrily scribbling something on his clipboard. Kirsten mutters under her breath, shaking her head, “I wouldn’t want to be you if they lose tonight. Everyone is going to blame you.”
I would say that I can’t believe she just said that to me, but it’s Kirsten, so I just look away from her and let her go. It’s not worth the fight.
The game picks up speed, the players moving so quickly that it’s hard for me to understand what’s going on. Tristan looks bored out of his mind as the puck moves back and forth near the center of the rink.
Then, as one of the players from the other team skates past him, Tristan casually juts out his hockey stick, tripping the guy in a way that looks almost accidental. The crowd erupts into laughter, and even I can’t help but smile as Tristan leans lazily against the goalpost, completely unfazed like he isn’t aware the cheering is for him. Winter giggles, it’s faint, but I hear it, just as I see a smile break out on his face. It’s brief, just a flash and then he’s stone faced again. He knows she’s watching him and I highly suspect that little stunt was for her amusement.
The puck shifts back toward our side of the ice. One of the other guys gets rocked by one of our players. Kozlov has the puck and he’s headed straight for the other team’s goal. The buzzer sounds and everyone is screaming or booing.
The game resumes quickly as the puck glides across the ice. Callum passes it to Kozlov, who takes off, skating down the rink. Just as the other team lines up to block him, the puck ricochets off a defender’s skate, heading straight toward Castlebrook’s net.
Hayden dives without hesitation, sliding across the ice on his stomach. His stick connects with the puck at the last second, flicking it away from the net and sending it down the rink. He crashes into the goalpost with a loud thud, his body slamming into the boards, but the crowd explodes with cheers.
“Holy shit, I’ve never seen him play like this before,” Kirsten says just as Hayden’s eyes find mine, a lazy grin on his face.
The other team has apparently called a time-out? I have no idea what’s going on, but everything quiets down, but Bethany isn’t happy with nothing exciting going on because I can already tell she’s getting ready to start some shit before the sentence is even out of her mouth.
“Tristan’s staring at you again,” she says, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Should we start placing bets on whether he’s planning to keep pining or if he’ll actually make a move on you? People think you guys are fucking so you might as well. You’re both miserable, maybe it’ll help, sweetie.”
Winter doesn’t even blink. Her expression remains as poised and graceful as ever, her posture perfect as she adjusts the hem of what I assume is Tristan’s hoodie. If the comment bothers her, she doesn’t show it.
Bethany isn’t finished, and I can feel the anger seething inside of me. Winter has been nothing but kind to me, offering to help me get acclimated to Castlebrook when she had no obligation. She’s genuinely nice and Bethany would have no idea what that concept even means. Bethany leans in slightly, her lips curling into a smug smile as she delivers her next jab. “Is the rumor about you two fucking true or…? I mean, trauma does weird shit to people. And I heard you were in a car accident or someth?—”
I hear the game start back up, but I don’t know what comes over me, because I can’t let this go. I’ve spent my entire life minding my own business, keeping my head down, and staying out of other people’s battles. But there’s something about the way Bethany says it, the cruelty laced into every word, that makes something inside of me snap. I’ve been in Winter’s position, just being poked and prodded, and it fucking sucks.
I turn toward Bethany, smiling sweetly, the kind of smile that’s all teeth and no warmth.
“Are you so miserable with your own love life that you have to live vicariously through other people’s?” I ask, my voice as calm as it is cutting, but I make sure that my expression is nothing but mocking. She needs to back the fuck off, and I’m going to make sure that she does. “ Are you writing a Tristan/Winter fanfiction or something? All the invasive questions are giving weird vibes, Beth. ”
Kirsten snorts beside me not even trying to defend her supposed best friend of a million years or whatever the bullshit is they tell people. They don’t even really like each other, but no one else is willing to tolerate either of them beyond a surface level. I don’t say that part out loud, but I will if either of them give me a reason.
The color is draining from Bethany’s big dumb head, and that’s the only thing that makes me feel better about this situation. I’ve put her on the spot, and she’s not sure how to get the upper hand.
“I was just…” She starts, raising her eyebrow at me like she thinks she’s going to somehow intimidate me.
“You’re just jealous, and it shows,” I say simply, shrugging my shoulders like there’s no room for argument in my statement. “They clearly have a bond no one else could ever understand,” I continue, my tone dripping with mock sincerity. “They’re lucky to have someone who gets them, whether it’s romantic or platonic. And honestly? I’m struggling to figure out how any of this is your business.”
Bethany’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but no words come out.
I pause for dramatic effect, tilting my head slightly as I study her. “If you’re lonely, just say that. Maybe we can put up a flier on campus for you or something. I hear the football boys aren’t at all particular about their dates.”
Winter’s lips tug upward in a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. Kirsten cackles outright, doubling over as Bethany’s face flushes an alarming shade of red.
Her eyes fill with tears, and for a split second, I think I should feel bad. But I don’t. Instead, I feel better. Bethany’s lips tremble, but then her mask snaps back into place. “I’m not lonely enough to fuck my brother,” she spits. I’m not sure if that shot was at me or Winter, but it doesn’t matter.
I blink, my smile widening ever so slightly. “I’m sure he’s really grateful for that,” I say. The comment lands like a slap, and before I can react, Bethany’s hand flies toward my face.
Winter is faster.
Her delicate fingers catch Bethany’s wrist mid-swing, twisting it effortlessly behind her back in one fluid motion. The movement is so precise, so practiced, that I can’t help but stare. Someone has definitely taught her how to fight, and I never would have expected that out of the delicate ballerina.
Bethany squeals in pain, her body jerking awkwardly as Winter holds her in place. Bethany writhes, trying to free herself, but Winter doesn’t budge.
“Let go of me!” Bethany screeches, her voice high and frantic.
“Nope,” Winter replies, and for some reason that’s so funny to me.
I glance at Kirsten, who’s still laughing, and then back at Bethany, whose face is contorted with both pain and humiliation. The crowd erupts into wild cheers, the noise so loud it rattles through my chest. I glance toward the rink just in time to see Tristan skating off the ice, the ref hot on his heels, blowing his whistle and pointing toward the penalty box.
“I don’t know how these idiots win all the time,” Kirsten says, laughing as she leans back in her seat. “None of them play by the rules. Tristan refuses to sit in the penalty box and just leaves the game.”
Her words make me glance back at Winter, who’s still standing beside Bethany, her expression as calm and unbothered as ever.
“My brother is coming,” Winter finally says, her voice almost sweet. But her words are anything but. “So if you’d like to make any more jokes at his expense, since you know so much about us, you might want to know that he’s killed someone for hurting me, and I doubt he’d offer you any second chances.” Winter lets Bethany go and as she passes by me, she mouths a simple, “Thank you.”
I turn almost all the way sideways, watching as she heads toward the tunnel where Tristan is waiting for her. Once I see him intercept her, I’m satisfied that she’s safe.
A loud noise from the rink draws my attention, and I whip my head around to see Hayden pounding on the plexiglass.
He’s furious.
His rage is raw and unmistakable as he stares directly at Bethany, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel. His fist slams against the glass again, the sound echoing through the arena and making the crowd buzz with excitement.
Bethany panics. She stumbles backward, almost falling as she turns and bolts toward the exit, her face pale and her movements frantic.
When Hayden’s eyes shift to me, his entire body jerks, like he’s noticed something that’s set him off even more.
I freeze under his gaze, confused, as he lifts his hand and makes a circular motion with his finger, silently commanding me to spin around. His lips are pulled tight, his expression somewhere between a grimace and a snarl.
Beside me, Kirsten bursts into laughter. “I didn’t think he’d notice until after the game,” she says, her voice laced with glee.
“Notice what?” I ask, my stomach twisting uneasily.
But Hayden answers for her.
He bangs on the plexiglass again, harder this time, and then yanks his jersey off over his head. The crowd erupts into cheers and screams as people catch sight of his chest and toned abs flexing under the thin white undershirt.
Hayden tosses the jersey over the glass, and it lands in my lap. “Put it on and take that shit off!” he roars, his voice carrying over the noise.
The arena fills with an audible “ooooh,” the sound rippling like a wave through the stands.
Kirsten is practically doubled over, laughing so hard she can barely breathe. “I knew he’d rage, but this is comical,” she wheezes.
It all clicks into place.
I don’t need to look at the back of the jersey I’m wearing to figure it out. Kirsten handed me someone else’s jersey purposely to set her brother off. I was in such a fluster when she showed up that I just tossed it on and didn’t look at the back.
Behind me, a girl gasps loudly. “Oh my God, he’s so hot. She’s so lucky. He’s sexy when he’s angry. She probably did that so he’d hate fuck her after the game.”
The people at this school make me miss the truck diner.
My face burns as I stand, holding Hayden’s jersey in one hand. I stalk toward the plexiglass, tossing his jersey over the top before stripping off the one I’m wearing. The cool air of the arena brushes against my bare arms as I stand there in my gray tank top and jeans. I don’t have a bra on and by the way his eyes flick down to my chest, I’m sure my nipples are poking through and I know Hayden well enough that he hates and loves that all at the same time.
Hayden’s eyes are locked on mine, his jaw tight, his chest heaving. Maybe that girl had a point about the hate fucking, because I’m very much baiting him right now.
I cut my eyes at him one last time before spinning on my heel and heading toward the exit. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I need to get out of here. This is getting out of control. Hayden is getting under my skin in ways I can’t ignore, and it scares me how much I want him to follow me tonight.
I know we can’t be together long term. I know this thing between us is messy and impossible. We need to get each other out of our systems so we can move on. I can’t imagine anyone else being my first, even though it can’t work out.
The only problem is, Hayden has made it very clear he wants to be my last, too.