Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
SIERRA
SLEEPING IN DYLAN’S arms was the first time in over a year that I woke up feeling completely safe. Aside from the time in the hospital when my mom slept with me, that was it. Right there with Dylan.
“Out of respect for your relationship, I won’t ask any details, but just give me a crumb,” Scarlett says when we’re in the kitchen warming up the lunch we brought up from the dining hall.
Yesterday’s hungover Scarlett told me she needed to know everything, but only after her head stopped feeling like a marching band was parading through it.
So, since she’s returned from the dead today, I told her how Dylan reacted to the surprise everyone helped with and then how I became his girlfriend.
I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend, but I’m glad I get to be his.
“He uses ice sometimes.”
Scarlett chokes on her croissant. “I said a crumb, and you gave me the entire loaf. Wow, now I’m going to be thinking about that every time you and Dylan are together.”
“Thinking about what when we’re together?” We both turn to find Dylan. Everyone on the first floor leaves their door open during midterms, probably for moral support. Dylan comes to me, whispers, “Hi, baby,” and I start blushing. I’m falling for him, and I don’t question whether he’ll catch me.
He’s in a navy suit and tie, his hair long and wavy. I don’t even notice when he steals bacon off my plate and kisses me while I’m still chewing.
“Ice,” Scarlett says. I glare at her, but she laughs, and so does Dylan. “I’ll be in my room, so you two feel free to do whatever. There’s an ice machine down the hall.”
I groan. “My best friend is for sale. You want her?”
“Nah, I’ve got too many.” Dylan follows me to my room. “I just came by to check if you need a ride.”
Today is Dylan’s second game. Coach got the dean to agree that the penalty was uncalled-for and that the ejection shouldn’t factor into his reinstatement. He’d never say it, but he’s exhausted. And although he knows he should give something up, he won’t do it. And I’m too selfish to ask him to.
“Summer’s picking me up. But is this a perk of being your girlfriend? Unlimited rides?”
“You can ride me anytime you want, Romanova.” He looks at me like his eyes are holding the image of my naked body behind them.
I shake my head as I rummage through my closet for something decent to wear to the game. I look in the mirror, trying to decide on bottoms. Dylan comes up behind me, snaking his arms around my waist.
“You’re making it hard for me to want to leave. You’re trouble.”
I chuckle. “But you like that about me.”
“I do,” he says. “I love that about you.”
If I weren’t tangled in his embrace, my knees would buckle. How do you think that you’re worthy of someone’s love if you can’t even love yourself?
“Don’t wear that,” he says, cutting through my thoughts.
He sighs and rests his head on my shoulder. I smile at him in the mirror. “Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to stay focused while I play, and won’t be if I know this”—he pulls the miniskirt from my hands—“is what you’re wearing.”
“What about this?” I show him a pair of yoga pants.
“Are you trying to kill me, woman?”
I push him away. He plops on the bed and hooks his hands behind his head as he watches me change.
I spin to show him my jeans. “I’m wearing these, take it or leave it.”
“Taking it. Always taking it,” he says. “But spin around. I don’t know if that’s the right wash for you.”
“Yeah?” I twirl, slowing down as he whistles.
“Come a little closer so I can inspect in detail.”
“You’re going to be late for your game.” I saunter over to him anyway. He looks way too hot in his suit for me to ignore him.
He pulls me on top of him, grabbing a handful of my ass. “It’s for good luck.”
“Good luck ass grab?”
He hums and flips us over so I’m under him. “Good luck kiss too.”
“Oh!” I pull away from him to reach into my desk drawer. “Can you put this on me?”
Dylan shifts, taking the lavender box from me.
He opens it, his fingers brushing over the gold-plated bracelet.
The dainty smiley face catches the light, and when he turns it over, he sees our initials engraved on the back.
His lips part then curve into the sweetest smile.
He clasps it on my wrist, brushing his lips on the skin. “I would have bought it for you, baby.”
“I know, but I wanted something for me. As a reminder of how far I’ve come. With your help, but also all on my own.” I never thought I’d ever get to a place where I wasn’t just surviving but choosing to live. “I got you one too.”
I give him his identical bracelet. “I don’t need a good luck charm, Sierra. I already have you.”
My eyes prick as I clasp it on his wrist. “It’s not for good luck. It’s for us. Always partners, even if we’re not skating together.”
His hesitates but presses his lips on mine, as he whispers, “No matter what.”
I see stars with how thoroughly he kisses me. It makes me squirm under him. Even as he holds his hips away from me, I want to feel him.
“Don’t even think about it, Sierra,” he reprimands when my hand reaches for his belt. “I’ve only got so much self-control, and it’s practically nonexistent when it comes to you.”
“Since when did you become such a buzzkill?”
He bites my lip. “Get this fine ass to my game so I can hear you scream my name.”
“I already do that,” I say. “I’ll do it even louder when you win.”
Dylan quickly jumps off the bed. “Won’t work, baby.”
“It already has.” I shoot him a pointed look just as he opens my bedroom door. “Enjoy your cold locker room shower.”
He groans and then I hear the front door close. My smile makes my face hurt.
An hour later, Summer’s parked out front, and Scarlett and I hop in to head to the arena. Amara decided to join at the last minute, so the car is packed, and the energy is crackling.
They blasted music for the first half of the ride, and now the latter half consists of random topics of conversation. Though the current one makes my palms a little sweaty.
“I have to say, Sierra, I’ve never seen Dylan like this,” says Summer. “He’s been smiling a lot, and not that dumb smirk he always wears. It’s real. The guy’s never been in a relationship, but with you he’s an expert.”
“I got lucky, I guess. Or for once embarrassing myself worked out.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Is that bad? Who mauls their skating partner on day one of practice?” For some reason, opening up to them doesn’t feel scary.
“Not at all. I had sex with my research partner,” Summer says. She must mean with Aiden, of course. “And our friend Cassie had sex with my research partner’s best friend.”
That takes me a minute to track. Kian, I’m assuming.
“And I had sex with my best friend’s best friend,” says Amara, and I’m officially lost.
The car halts abruptly, and we jolt. “What?!” Summer says.
All heads turn to Amara, who slaps a palm over her mouth. She mutters a curse.
“You—you had sex with Sampson?” Summer asks. “And you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Amara! You hate each other.”
“Still do,” Amara replies. “But God, he does this thing with his tongue—” She slaps her palm over her mouth again. “Never. And I mean never tell him I said that.”
Summer’s still blinking. “Yeah, we have to talk about this.”
“You sure you need to know more?” Scarlett chimes in. “’Cause that look on her face is saying a lot.”
The car is quiet after that. Mostly because Amara refuses to speak.
The game starts soon after we arrive, and when Dylan taps the glass where we sit, he winks at me, and then all the girls in our section squeal. I roll my eyes, and that’s when he smiles.
By the third period, Dalton’s got an easy win, and Dylan’s on a breakaway for the tiebreaker.
With his helmet, I can’t see his face, but the way he moves like lightning down the ice is unforgettable.
I’m holding my breath, unclenching my fists when I remember the tiny smiley face on my palm.
Instead, I fiddle with my new bracelet. Then he sends the puck flying, and the buzzer echoes through the arena.
He flies past us in a celebration, holding his hand up to his ear as the crowd goes crazy.
I’m right up against the glass, chanting his name like some crazed hockey fan.
Damn it, I might actually enjoy this sport.
“Kind of sad that it’s his last one,” Amara says as she passes me the bag of popcorn.
She must see my brow quirk, because she points ahead to where Dylan whizzes past us.
“Dylan,” she clarifies. “It’s his last game, right?”
My mind is a tangled mess. I’ve been bracing myself for our last skate, so I wouldn’t do or say something stupid. Like ask him to stay.
“Sampson said Coach Kilner told him he would finally be reinstated and still get to play for New York next year, but Dylan said no,” Amara explains.
My heart bottoms out. “He said no?”
“Flat out. Just up and quit,” she says. “That’s what Sampson told me. But I thought you knew.”
I want to press her with more questions to settle the confusion in my chest, but the words won’t come. Summer holds out a churro, and in my foggy confusion, I don’t even recall eating the whole thing and crushing the white sugar-covered wrapper in my fist.
Though they definitely notice. “You okay?” Summer asks.
I only nod. Then the last seconds of the final period trickle on and Dalton wins. I feel a ball in my throat that I can’t swallow. I need to get out of here.
“I’m going to just—” I hike my thumb to the exit, and before they can ask anything else, I’m out of the arena. The buzzer signaling the end of the game wraps around the building, and I can hear it in my ears even as I’m halfway across the parking lot running toward absolutely nothing.
I’VE GOT THE Weather Channel loud in my dorm room. But this time, Dale Thunderman doesn’t calm my nerves. My phone buzzes beside me. It’s Scarlett. Forgot my keys. Open the door for me?