Chapter 9
NINE
DYLAN
HOW MUCH MORE shit would I get in if I egged the sports director’s car?
The hard-ass was patrolling the rink, so when he saw me on it, he was standing by the boards with that stick up his ass.
Usually Kilner’s the one enforcing the rules, but when he saw me walk past his office, he didn’t say anything.
I’m not sure whether he was letting me off the hook or he’s pissed because I’ve got him working overtime to figure out the suspension.
The other thing I can’t seem to get off my mind is Sierra.
Any other scenario, and we’d be in the back seat of my car in five seconds flat.
But she looks at me like she wants me dead.
It’s kind of fucked up how much that turns me on.
She’s damn stubborn, and so full of attitude, but then underneath the bleachers her emerald eyes cracked, and there it was, a single tear.
She was looking at a couple, skaters too, and the look on her face nearly made me go chase the guy down to see why this seemingly ice-cold girl was crying over him.
I saw her skate. It was different from the first time I saw her on the ice.
Her hair was slicked back, her clothes tight except for the fluttery skirt, and she was faster than ever.
Sierra’s blade dug into the ice, sharp, vicious.
She didn’t land the triple Lutz she attempted, but she managed a shallow axel.
That pain still seemed to linger in her red-rimmed eyes, but she was determined, vengeful, and a little scary. It was fucking hot.
Suddenly, a hard metal from a chunk of keys hits me square in the abdomen. I’m still sore from the gym, because getting kicked off the rink only twenty minutes in wasn’t enough cardio. Kian comes to stand in front of the TV after assaulting me with his car keys.
I was watching a show Summer recommended.
It’s not a Turkish drama, thankfully, or she’d make me translate everything.
Apparently, I’m a bad friend for not telling her that my mom’s Turkish, or that I speak it too.
Now, whenever I walk by while it’s on, I’m roped into checking whether the subtitles are accurate.
Aiden being on video call doesn’t help, because he expects me to translate every word for Summer. One episode is three hours long.
I toss the keys right back at Kian.
“Fine, I’ll drive, but get ready, we’re picking up Cap,” he says.
Crap. I nearly forgot that Aiden is coming home to rest until his calf strain is all healed up to play in the regular season. “I thought Summer was going with you.”
It’s not that Aiden’s arrival isn’t exciting, but I know he’s going to watch me like a fucking hawk. I’m hoping he’s distracted enough to forget about my reckless partying streak last semester. And this summer. And last week.
“She is, but I don’t want to third wheel a couple who hasn’t seen each other in over a month.”
“If you’re lucky, they’ll probably just bicker the whole way home.”
Kian groans. “That’s worse; it’s like foreplay for them. You’re coming.” He walks out to the porch to drape our surprise for Aiden with a white sheet. We had forgotten all about it, but then it showed up on in a delivery truck last week.
Outside, the sound of the horn blaring fills the empty street. Summer’s sitting in the passenger seat, reaching over to press the horn like a lunatic.
“Jesus, I was being thoughtful and getting your boyfriend a snack.” Kian climbs into the driver’s side and tosses the box on Summer’s lap.
“I don’t think a box of …” She holds the bag between her fingers to inspect it. “Double Cream Twinkies is something he’s craving right now.”
Kian snatches it out of her hand and mumbles something about knowing his best friend.
When he finally pulls out and we’re headed to the highway, I can’t help but glance over at the arena as we drive by.
Dread settles somewhere low in my stomach, and it almost feels like I won’t ever play hockey in that rink again.
“You okay back there?” Summer lowers the volume of the radio.
I nod, but that doesn’t do anything to clear the crease between her brows. My gaze drifts out the window, but I don’t miss the look Kian’s giving me through the rearview mirror.
Suddenly, I’m desperate to get out of this headspace. I pull out my phone and text Sampson before I think better of it.
Dylan: Party tonight?
Sampson: Yale. But you know how those go. It’s never a good idea.
Sampson: Besides, isn’t Aiden back tonight?
Dylan: Doesn’t matter. When are we leaving?
Sampson: Pick you up in an hour.
Normally, I’d never step foot on Yale’s campus, but this week Dalton’s going through a dry spell with parties. It might be because every NCAA team at Dalton underwent surprise drug tests.
Ten minutes later, Kian pulls into the airport arrivals.
I slide my phone in my pocket as Summer and Kian argue about where to park.
I follow their line of sight to Aiden Crawford walking toward the car.
Kian is first to react. He parks where we’re definitely not supposed to park and runs out of the car.
He wraps his arms around Aiden and squeezes the shit out of him.
I follow Summer, who doesn’t remember that anything else exists but her boyfriend.
She’s slow to approach him, so I nudge Kian away and give Aiden a quick hug.
“Don’t know why he’s acting like that. We saw you a few months ago,” I say.
“Two months ago, asshole. That’s eight whole weeks,” Kian responds.
Summer’s still standing there, and it makes Aiden smile. “What are you waiting for, Preston?” he says, dropping his bag on the floor next to him.
That’s all it takes for her to jump straight into his arms. Kian watches them in awe, and I roll my eyes as I take Aiden’s bag to toss it in the trunk.
Relationships have never been my thing, but seeing my best friend look at her like that, with soft affection in his eyes, stabs me in the chest like a dart on a bull’s-eye.
But I don’t let it linger. Instead, I crush the feeling just as quickly.
This time I take the front seat, and when we’re driving off again, Kian tosses the box of Twinkies to Aiden, who groans in appreciation and tears into it immediately.
Kian’s smirking at Summer through the rearview.
The rest of the drive home, I’m awaiting the tongue-lashing that I’m sure is coming my way. But if I’m lucky, I’ll be halfway to Yale before Aiden gets the chance to corner me.
Sebastian and Cole come out of their rooms to greet Aiden when we get home.
“We have a surprise for you,” Kian blurts.
Aiden shoots us a suspicious glance, then looks at Summer for an explanation. She only shrugs. It was hard enough getting Kian not to spill it, considering how much he calls Aiden.
“Follow us,” Kian says, practically bouncing on the spot as he leads us through the living room straight to the sliding door that opens onto the back porch. “Close your eyes.”
“Fuck no,” Aiden says.
“C’mon, just do it. It’ll be fun, trust me.”
“I would never trust you when you have that creepy grin on your face, Ishida.”
Summer elbows Aiden. “The sooner you do it, the sooner you can punch him for what he’s about to show you.” Now it’s Summer’s turn to grin, and Kian rolls his eyes.
Aiden obliges with a groan. “If it’s something gross, I swear I’ll—”
“Open!”
Aiden’s face goes blank as he stares at the giant hot tub in front of him on the porch.
It’s huge, probably big enough for eight people to sit comfortably.
We had to make a detailed spreadsheet of whether the benefit would outweigh the costs.
Our attempt to be responsible only lasted a few minutes before we decided we needed it.
Aiden blinks rapidly, and I hold back a laugh as Cole records his reaction from a safe distance.
“What am I staring at?” he asks slowly.
“A hot tub. We won it through the Slink drink competition. Got all the sororities and Dylan’s frat to enter and help us win with the promise that they could use it. Pretty sweet, right?”
“Okay, but why the fuck is my face on it?”
The hot tub is even better in person than it looked on the website. It’s massive, black, and adorned with Aiden’s old Slink ad. His plastic sophomore smile and the sugary energy drink casually held in his hand is plastered all around the circumference.
“A communal hot tub?” Summer says with disgust. “I thought it was for the house.”
“Kian promised people they could use it. He’s going to disinfect it himself,” I say.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Kian quips, his tone playful—but the joke falls flat as all eyes shift to me. “I mean—not anymore. Never mind, I—”
“Babe, let’s go upstairs. You need to rest,” Summer deflects smoothly, cutting Kian off.
Aiden watches us as Summer tugs him along. “We need to talk,” he says to me.
“Can’t wait,” I mutter. My phone buzzes in my hand, but before I can glance at the screen, a honk echoes from outside. Sampson’s here. Thank God.
The second we get to Yale, I realize I’ve overestimated my penchant for a party.
The guys at Yale bring drinks and offer weed like I hadn’t just failed my drug test. I spend the rest of the night on the couch nursing a single Modelo that I don’t finish.
That’s what makes me the unlucky designated driver.
I drop off irritatingly drunk college students, and I wonder why the hell I thought coming here was a good idea.
When I finally make it home, I take a quick shower. When I’m out I accidentally play the voicemail that pops up on my phone as a notification.
“Your father wants to apologize for his behavior. I want to apologize too, kuzum. I never should have told you about the party over the phone. Please come home this weekend, I’ll make your favorites—”
Suddenly, the door to my room swings open, and I end the voicemail, my mom’s voice still echoing in my ears. I grab the towel from the edge of the bed and wrap it around my waist.
You would think after living with each other for four years, the guys would learn to knock before they enter my room. However, when Aiden steps inside, I don’t expect anything less. He’s walked into much worse than me in a towel, but when he finds me alone, he exhales.
Why is he even awake? I thought I could delay this until tomorrow at least. The last time we had a talk, he asked me if everything was okay, and to tell him if it wasn’t. I couldn’t tell him then; I didn’t want to add to everything he already had going on.
Aiden leans against my desk, tapping his fingers along the wood like he’s holding back from chewing me out. He hasn’t even spoken a word, and he’s already made me question everything.
“I talked to Kilner.”
I sit on the edge of my bed, looking at anything but my best friend. “About what?”
“I know you haven’t told me why you smoked that night,” he says. “And I don’t know if you ever will, but I still believe that you wouldn’t do this on purpose. Especially with everything on the line.”
Tell him. The words claw at my throat to get out and free my chest of the weight that’s been dragging me down for years.
How my parents can’t accept that our family won’t ever be the same, how my dad ruined their marriage, and their vow renewal is a farce.
Smoking helped ease all that shit. For about ten seconds.
When I can’t bring myself to speak, Aiden nods to himself. “Kilner’s talking to Reed to get you reinstated. It’s not going to be easy, but I’ve talked to Dean Hutchins too.”
“You did?”
Aiden’s expression tells me he’s over my shit but for some reason he’s still willing to put up with me. “You don’t deserve to be cast aside because of a first-time offense. I’m not going to stop letting the dean know how many people believe in you.”
His words do something strange to my chest. “You’d do that for me?”
“No,” says Aiden. “I’ll do it for the other version of you. Because he’s my best friend.”