Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
DYLAN
brEAKFAST AT THE hockey house was tense.
I suppose it’s the kind of awkward that lingers long after your friends host your intervention at the dining table.
After that the silence in the house felt loud and was only broken by the creepy old radio Kian thrifted last week.
It exclusively plays country, but I’m convinced that’s his way of getting on Aiden’s good side.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who got a lecture. Sucker.
But after my meeting with Coach Kilner and Lidia Orlov, I know this is the only way to prove myself.
Still, they’ve got to be out of their mind if they think Sierra and I could make a good partnership.
But watching her squirm? Fuck, it made me wonder what she’d do with my hands on her and her focus on me, inches apart on that ice.
“There he is!” Kian shouts when he enters the house. “Our figure skater.”
I had finally sat down to study when my friends burst through the front door. They’re wearing plastic glasses with tiny spinning wheels on the sides, one frame emblazoned with a D and the other with an S.
Great, it’s started.
“How do you even know about that?”
“I’ve got ears everywhere, Dill Pickle. And Aiden told us.” Kian drops a giant cardboard box with a thump on the dining table, right where I was trying to study, and beams at me.
He’s wearing a T-shirt with Summer’s and my faces on it. “What’s up with the shirt? Are you starting a cult?”
“More like a fan club,” he replies, still grinning. “We’ve got invitations!”
Summer drops another box on the table. “Except Kian wasn’t paying attention, so when I said we needed five hundred invitations, he printed fifteen hundred.” Summer turns back to the front door, probably to grab another box, but Aiden walks in carrying two massive ones.
He deposits one of the boxes and turns to Summer. “Babe, I told you I’d get it.”
“You’re injured, and I’m stronger than you, Crawford. I do Pilates now.” She smiles.
His gaze runs down her body. “I know.”
“Ugh, I had enough of this in the car. I think I prefer you guys yelling at me about the invitation mishap,” Kian says. “At least now it’ll be a rager, and we all know Dylan loves those.”
The joke feels off the mark considering they just gave me a stupid intervention and I’m here studying, decidedly not at a rager.
Kian thinks I love ragers, and for a while, I did. But the last one was for him. Now that the guys are in the pros, they don’t come home much. On Kian’s birthday, it was just the two of us, and I wanted to make it count. I threw that party to show him it could still be like old times.
“That would be Dylan from a few weeks ago. The new Dylan reads”—Summer reaches over to flip my textbook—“The Anatomy of a Merger in his free time.”
“I would be reading it if you guys weren’t so distracting,” I accuse. Aiden watches me carefully, like he’s wondering if this new version of me is real.
Kian snorts. “A face like this comes with consequences that we all have to learn to live with. But all this stuff is for your birthday, so be grateful.”
It’s hard to feel grateful for something I didn’t ask for, but I’d never voice that.
Not only because it’s Summer’s birthday too, but because they’ve been planning this for weeks.
It’s the first time in months that we’ll all be together, and I promised myself I wouldn’t ruin it. I would be the Dylan everyone wants.
Suddenly, the room feels stuffier than usual. When Cole drops into his seat at the table, he whips out his phone and turns the screen toward us. “Did you guys see what Yale did to our mascot? Poor guy got his ass kicked by their Bulldog. We’re not letting that slide, right?”
“I’m thinking we kidnap their mascot. That’ll show ’em,” Sebastian chimes in.
Kian snorts. “Dylan and I already did that sophomore year. I say this year—”
“We do nothing,” I cut him off. Aiden watches us closely.
Kian’s gaze flickers to me. “Right, that’s exactly what I was going to say.”
Sebastian and Cole give me a look like I’ve gone crazy.
Aiden laughs with his arms around Summer as she places the sunglasses on his face. “You seriously think I’d fall for that crap? I know you idiots. Just don’t get caught.”
The guys cheer, and for a moment, it feels normal.
But then it sneaks in, sharp and heavy, the thought that’s been gnawing at me most nights when I can’t sleep.
This isn’t my team anymore. Apparently, figure skating is my only shot at even being considered for reinstatement.
If I can’t get that, hockey will just be a distant memory.
I push back from the table, grabbing my keys. “I’ll catch you guys later.” I ignore Aiden’s burning gaze.
Kian grabs my wrist, frowning. “What about the mascot?”
“You’ll figure it out.” I free myself from his hold and keep moving. The weight of their stares follows me to the door, but I don’t look back.
“No invite?” Kian shouts just as I shut the front door.
When I get in my car, I don’t know where I’m headed, but as long as it’s away from the house, anywhere will do.
It’s only fifteen minutes later that I find myself at my frat house.
The Kappa Sigma Zeta brothers are more than happy to welcome me, because apparently the failed drug test doesn’t affect my membership.
The ass-kissing has gotten out of control.
Another thing out of control? The party they’re having.
I had just fallen asleep in my room upstairs when the thumping started.
I realize pretty soon that frat parties are fucking boring when you’re sober.
This is the third time someone’s tried to bribe me into doing a keg stand.
The second time, Kian—yeah, he followed me—asked if I’d hold his hair back if he was throwing up in a toilet bowl.
His hair is barely past his ears. And the first time, I wished parties ended at ten p.m.
The booze makes everything better, or at least easier to ignore. I’m slouched on a stool in the kitchen, watching drunk couples go at it against every available wall. It’s like a full-contact sport just to squeeze past them. Not that I can judge. I’ve definitely been that guy.
I’m half scrolling through my phone when an email from my dad’s assistant pops up, asking me to RSVP for the vow renewal. I shove my phone in my pocket, slide off the stool, and head to the living room.
Before I can make it, Mehar Chopra steps in front of me.
Her hand brushes my chest, and I try to flip the switch, be the guy she was with that night.
Just to keep up that version of me, even though what we had was a onetime thing.
It always is. But her voice is just static, her laugh echoing in some far-off tunnel.
She shakes her head, then hands me a can before walking off. White Claw. As I’m going to the back door, my fingers itch to crack it open, but I leave it on a table.
Then, like someone lifting noise-canceling headphones, she comes into focus.
Black hair, green eyes, bold red lips. Sierra’s perched on a chair while the group around her clinks shot glasses and laughs loud enough to shake the walls.
Her redheaded friend—Scarlett, I think—slaps her leg, doubled over in laughter, but Sierra’s smile fades the second Scarlett looks away.
There’s no telling why I walk over to her, but I’ve stopped trying to understand the shit I do when I see her. Like agreeing to be her fucking partner.
“Double D!” one guy shouts. My eyes don’t stray from the girl who’s suddenly gone rigid. Scarlett nudges her, but Sierra only empties her can.
My head cocks with an amused smirk when Scarlett eyes me curiously.
“My friends back at Waterfell weren’t too happy after that last game against you guys,” the blond in front of Sierra says, pulling my attention away from her.
I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about.
Last semester is a blur, and I have no desire to relive those games.
I was reckless, irritable, and far too eager to bash my fists into something on the ice.
The commentators dubbed me Dalton’s most physical player. It pissed me off.
“Which friends?” I ask, my tone flat with disinterest.
“Well, the defenseman you cross-checked, for starters,” he says.
Oh. That game. It was after another one of my mom’s calls saying my dad hasn’t been home for days.
Not my finest moment. But it wasn’t a fucking cross-check.
Their massive defenseman, eyes glinting like melted gold, came at me just as hard as I came at him.
Helmets flew off, noses and lips were bloodied, and I even managed to tear his jersey, revealing a tattoo that resembled one of those swirly Van Gogh paintings.
“A game’s a game, buddy. Pretty sure we ended up at their house party afterward.” I only remember that because I got so drunk I woke up in a room I didn’t recognize.
I shake the memory away only to see Sierra placing her second empty can onto the table, then excusing herself quietly. A subtle trace of cherry lingers in the air when she brushes past me.
Like a dog caught on a scent, I trail after her into the second living room. She finds an empty couch by the window and plops down in relief.
I collapse on the cushion right beside her, and she goes rigid. She grips tightly onto another can, and I have no clue when she grabbed that. I can’t help but wonder why she’s indulging, and whether it’s because of this morning.
Sierra groans loudly, rolling her eyes in that way I’ve become too accustomed to. She mutters something about staying for Scarlett.
“Can’t leave me alone?” she says, irritation lacing her words.
“Incapable of it,” I say.
Sierra’s red lips flatten into a thin line. “First you want to be my partner, and now you’re following me around. I think you’re the one who’s obsessed.”
I lean back on the couch. “Nah, I just like to know when the circus is coming to town.”
Her glare sharpens. “Funny, I thought you were their opening act, Captain.”