34. Dylan #2
Not, you played incredibly, but you looked incredible. Does she even know the rules of hockey? How the game is played? Or is she too busy eyeing up every person on the ice like they are pieces of meat for her to drool over?
Finn catches my look of distaste, before giving her a tight smile. “Thanks, Selena.” He doesn’t pull her onto his lap or even shift over for her to sit beside him. In fact, he barely acknowledges her, but she doesn’t take the hint. Instead, she leans closer, fingers tracing over his shoulders.
I take a sip of my drink, forcing my gaze elsewhere. I try to engage in the conversation happening around me, but like passing the scene of a car crash, my eyes keep flitting back to Finn and Selena.
She’s squeezed herself into the end of the booth now, and I watch with a morbid curiosity as she angles her body so her breasts are pressed against his arm.
She drags a pink-polished nail over the cord of muscles on his arm, slow and deliberate.
My nostrils flare. The sudden desire to grab her by her perfectly straight hair and wrench her away from him is potent and unwelcome.
Finn isn’t mine, and I’m not even sure I’d want him to be.
Not that it’s an issue. He doesn’t want to be mine, so it’s a moot point.
Catching me staring, Finn must read something in my expression as his emerald green eyes darken. I quickly look away.
My gaze accidentally collides with Griffin’s instead. He arches a questioning brow, glancing back and forth between me and Finn knowingly. I scowl at him before focusing on my drink instead.
“I was thinking…” Selena’s voice pierces through the deep rumble of male tones.
I tell myself not to listen, but it’s like I’m attuned to her voice.
I can’t not listen. Or look, apparently, as my gaze slides in their direction.
Selena is twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger, staring up at Finn with lust-colored love hearts in her eyes.
Oh no, wait. It’s green dollar signs I see in her mud-brown depths.
My bad. “We should celebrate your big win properly tonight.” Her voice drips with suggestion.
“Just the two of us.” She bats her eyelashes seductively.
“It’s been a while since we… I’ll do that thing you like?—”
My glass hits the table harder than intended. I’m pretty sure I just threw up a little in my mouth.
It’s not my business, I tell myself. Finn can do whatever the hell he wants.
And yet, there’s an acrid burn in my gut.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, his eyes flick toward me, sharp and aware. The bastard smirks. It makes me want to stab him with the nearest sharp object.
And then, just to drive the knife in deeper, he touches her.
His hand skims down her back, featherlight, before settling on her hip. His fingers flex, a slow drag up and down over her bare skin.
It’s calculated.
A test.
Because he knows I’m watching.
Selena practically melts into him, pressing closer, her lips brushing his ear as she murmurs something I can’t hear. Something ugly curls in my chest. My nails dig into my palm, jaw locked so tight it aches. I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
Except, for some stupid reason, I do.
And Finn knows it.
“Dylan.”
Ethan’s voice snaps me out of my disturbingly violent thoughts. I barely registered him watching me, but now his eyes flick between Finn and me, his expression unreadable. “You good?”
I exhale sharply, schooling my features into something neutral. “Yeah. Just need another drink.” I push up from the booth, forcing Jax to move to let me out.
“I’ll go with you,” Ethan presses .
I shake my head. “I just need a second.” I point toward the bar. “I’ll be right over there. You can see me, no problem.”
Ethan doesn’t look happy, but after a beat, he gives a tight nod.
I turn on my heel and head straight for the bar, feeling Finn’s—the entire table’s—eyes on me the entire time.
“You look like you’re having fun.” Wren has to shout to be heard over the music, which is much louder closer to the bar and dance floor than at the back of the room.
I just shake my head. “Boys.”
She grins. “I have a cure for that.” Moving away, she grabs a beer from the chiller, popping the top off before handing it over. “Sorry, I can’t hang around and chat,” she says after I’ve paid, indicating the busy crowd.
“Don’t worry. You go do your thing.” I wave her away with the promise that we will catch up tomorrow. Taking a sip of my beer, I will my frustration to settle. It doesn’t.
“You’re Dylan Carter, right?”
I glance sideways at the guy beside me. I recognize him from one of my classes—innovative marketing, maybe? Tall, dark-haired, sharp jawline. He’s cute, in a frat-boy sort of way.
“That’s me,” I respond, voice light, neutral.
He smirks, watching me over the top of his bottle as he takes a sip of his beer. “The girl playing on the men’s team. Ballsy move.”
I stiffen, although he doesn’t say it with judgment. If anything, there’s an edge of intrigue. I recognize the way his gaze skims over me, lingering a second too long.
“Yeah, well, I guess I like a challenge.”
I don’t mean anything specific by the words, but the guy’s dark eyes flash, and he sits up straighter. His smirk turns more coy, and I mentally curse myself for giving him the wrong idea. I’m not playing hard to get. I’m not playing at all .
Although as the guy flirts with me, I kinda wish I was playing. That I could. He’s cute. Charming. And most importantly, he’s not a Steelhawk hockey player .
And yet, I feel nothing for him. No spark. No chemistry.
I wish I could be drawn to someone like him. Someone untangled from my team, from my life, from the constant push-pull of everything happening with Ethan, Finn, Jax, and Griffin.
It only makes me more frustrated that I’m not.
I force a small smile, sipping my beer as he keeps talking, telling me about himself.
I’m nodding along as he gripes about the number of assignments in our marketing class when a shadow falls over us.
I look up as Finn sidles up to me, close—too close.
His arm slides around my waist, possessive and territorial as he practically yanks me against his hard, firm body.
His hand lands heavy on my hip, squeezing as if in warning.
As though he’s silently telling me to behave.
My teeth grind.
He lowers his head, and I go rigid as his lips brush my temple. “You’ve been over here for too long, babe,” he says, loud enough that there’s no way the guy beside me doesn’t hear.
I tighten my fingers around my beer as I twist my head to glare up at him. Babe?
Despite his playful smirk, his eyes are dark, locked on the guy beside me, and a muscle jumps in his cheek. His irritation simmers just beneath the surface—but why? He was just flirting with his puck bunny, so what the hell is he doing over here, staking a claim on something that isn’t his?
The guy beside me stiffens. “Oh. I didn’t realize?—”
I go to tell him it’s not what he thinks, mostly just to piss Finn off, but the asshole beats me to it.
“She gets off on keeping us a secret,” he says, tilting his head my way.
“Likes it when I catch her flirting with other guys, then drag her into a back room and remind her how good I can make her feel. ”
I choke on nothing but air, my cheeks flaming from embarrassment. What the fuck?!
“Oh.” The guy looks completely speechless, and who can blame him? I’m going to have to hide from him in class now. “Well, I should just—” He doesn’t even hang around long enough to finish his sentence.
The second we’re alone, I whirl on Finn. Thankfully, it dislodges his arm from my waist, and I blatantly ignore the cold that seeps in, in its wake. “What the hell was that?” I demand.
“What was what?” he questions, playing innocent.
“Don’t what me!” I’m so angry, I can feel steam coming out of my ears. Not wanting to get into this in front of a bar full of strangers who are most likely eavesdropping and looking for juicy gossip, I grab Finn’s arm and drag him toward the back corridor, where the bathrooms are.
The moment we’re out of view of the rest of the bar, I let go and shove him. Hard.
He barely stumbles, just tilts his head, lips curling into a smirk that pisses me off even more.
“I’m not the one flirting it up with some guy while you’ve got three others drooling over you.” His smirk turns into a sneer.
I blink, stunned for a moment before scoffing, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I needed your fucking permission to talk to someone.”
“I didn’t realize you needed more when you’ve got the whole team wrapped around your finger.”
I shove him again. “Fuck you, Finn. Go back to Selena and stay out of my life.”
His eyes darken, amusement flickering there now. “Jealous, Carter?”
I laugh sharply, shaking my head. “If anyone’s jealous, it’s you. I mean, what else could that ridiculous posturing have been?” I throw my hand out in the direction of the bar .
Finn moves before I can process it—a step forward, crowding into my space, forcing me back against the wall. His hands cage me in, palms braced on either side of my head.
My pulse hammers, my breath short, and I get the strongest sense of déjà vu.
The air between us crackles, just like the last time he had me pressed against the wall in this exact same spot. Anger and something else, something even more volatile, hisses and spits between us.
His gaze drops to my mouth, then back up. “You have no idea how much it fucking kills me.”
My throat tightens.
His jaw clenches, his voice a low rasp. “That I can’t flirt with you in a bar. That I can’t touch you.”
His fingers brush my arm as he says it, a slow, deliberate caress. My skin prickles, heat curling in my stomach. I don’t think. I lift my chin, defiant, daring. “What’s stopping you?”
It’s the final fucking straw.
Finn surges forward, his lips crashing onto mine, swallowing my gasp. It’s fire and fury, all-consuming, devastating.
And just like every other time, it wrecks me.
But it’s over too quickly.
He jerks back like he touched a live wire, cursing under his breath. His jaw is tight, chest rising and falling hard. He won’t look at me.
“Finn,” I start, but he shakes his head, already turning to storm off.
Oh no. Not this time. I’ve had enough of him kissing the sense out of me and then walking away.
I push off the wall and march after him, shoving at his shoulder. “Seriously?” I snarl. “What the fuck is your problem?”
He whirls on me, his face a mask of frustration and something deeper, rawer. “My problem?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “ You are my problem, Dylan.”
My breath catches.
Anguish racks his face before he turns it away, raking his fingers through his hair.
His whole body is taut with tension. “You have my head so fucked, I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know who I am anymore.” His voice drops, eyes flashing.
“I don’t even know if my best friend is who I thought he was. ”
I swallow hard, my stomach twisting. “Finn?—”
“I won’t betray his loyalty.” His voice is raw, like the words are being ripped from him.
“Not without proof. Not without knowing for sure that he’s not the man I once knew.
” Lifting his gaze, his stare is tortured.
Wrecked. As though he can’t help but reach out one more time, he rubs a strand of my hair between two fingers.
“You and I are teammates, Dylan. Nothing more.”
With a sigh that carries the fragments of my cracked heart, he drops his hand, holding my stare a moment longer before he turns and stalks away.
This time, I let him go.
Throat raw and limbs trembling, I sag against the wall. My heart pounds, head spins, and my eyes drift shut as I suck in a breath.
When I open them again, Kyle is standing a few feet away, watching me. His lip curls, gaze sweeping over me with clear disapproval. “You sure do get around, don’t you?”
My stomach turns. Why the hell is he always showing up when I don’t want him to?
Before I can react, he sneers and shoves into the men’s bathroom, leaving me alone in the empty hallway.