Chapter 2
“Man, coach is riding us way too hard today,” Caleb grumbles, collapsing onto the bench beside me, dripping sweat and out of breath.
I chuckle, wiping my face with my towel. “You knew what you were signing up for, dude. First day back, gotta put the work in.”
Caleb groans. “Doesn’t mean he has to be a slave driver about it. It’s like he wants us dead before the season even starts.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You’ll survive. Maybe.”
He tosses his gloves down, annoyed but grinning anyway. “Yeah, easy for you to say. You’re used to it.”
“Captain’s got to set the tone, man. You know that.”
Caleb huffs, leaning back against the locker, his expression shifting from annoyed to... something else. I know that look. He’s about to bring up the party.
“So... you coming to the thing tonight?” He asks, trying to play it casual but failing miserably.
I shrug, noncommittal. “Not sure yet.”
“What do you mean ‘not sure’? Come on, man, it’s for us—we deserve it, remember?” He gives me a nudge, and I already know where this is going. “As captain, you kinda have to show up.”
I roll my eyes, knowing he’s half right, but I’m not really in the mood for a big scene tonight. Plus, I know Caleb’s real motivation. “You’re not trying to guilt-trip me into this, are you? This is about your little redhead, isn’t it?”
And just like that, Caleb’s ears turn red, which makes me laugh out loud. Predictable.
“Shut the fuck up, Zane,” Caleb mutters, glaring at me but not really angry. “It’s not like that.”
I give him a smirk. “Yeah, okay. Just friends, right? Sure.”
“Dick.”
“Fine, fine,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’ll come to the party, but I’m not planning shit. This one’s on you.”
Caleb grins, satisfied. “Deal. Just show up, and I’ll handle the rest. Trust me, it’s going to be killer.”
I shake my head, slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading for the door. “Whatever, man. I hope not literally, but I’m out. Gotta hit the mansion.”
Caleb cackles, his laughter echoing through the locker room. “Oh, yeah? Say hey to Amelia for me.”
I give him a grin over my shoulder, but inside, I’m already thinking of a way out of that one. Amelia? Nah, not tonight. She’s fun, sure, but she’s been getting too clingy lately. The last thing I want is a post-sex therapy session.
As I step out of the rink, I pull my phone from my pocket and start scrolling through my contacts. I’ve got a couple of girls I can hit up, but my thumb hovers over one name in particular. Kaia.
I grin to myself. Kaia’s always been down for a good time, no strings, no bullshit. Just what I need tonight. My body’s still buzzing from practice, the adrenaline pumping, and I’ve got some energy to burn.
I shoot her a quick text:
Zane: You around?
The reply comes almost immediately.
Kaia: Thought you’d never ask. Your place or mine?
I smirk, knowing exactly where this is headed.
Zane: My mansion. Be here in 20.
Her next text is a simple wink emoji, and I can already picture that cocky little smirk of hers. Perfect.
By the time I get to the mansion, the guys have mostly cleared out. I drop my bag by the door and head upstairs, knowing I’ve got just enough time to shower before Kaia shows up. The hot water hits my skin, and I let out a sigh, the tension from practice finally easing out of my muscles. It’s been a long day, but at least I’ve got a good end to it.
Twenty minutes later, I’m out of the shower, towel wrapped around my waist when I hear the front door click open. Right on time. Kaia’s nothing if not punctual.
I head down the stairs, still damp, and find her lounging on the couch like she owns the place, legs crossed, one eyebrow raised as she eyes me up and down.
“Well, don’t you look comfortable,” she says, her voice teasing. “Nice towel.”
I smirk, leaning against the banister. “Thought I’d save you the trouble.”
She laughs, that low, throaty laugh that always gets me. “Appreciate it.”
I head over to the couch, dropping down beside her, my arm resting casually on the back. Kaia’s in a tight black dress, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, and she’s got that look in her eyes that tells me she’s more than ready to pick up where we left off.
“Long day?” she asks, leaning in just a little too close, her breath warm against my skin.
I nod, but I’m not really in the mood for small talk. “You could say that.”
Kaia’s hand slides up my thigh, her fingers teasing at the edge of my towel. “Good thing I’m here to help you relax then.”
I grab her wrist, pulling her onto my lap, and she laughs, throwing her arms around my neck. I don’t waste time—my lips crash into hers, and she responds eagerly, her fingers tangling in my hair as I deepen the kiss.
Kaia knows exactly what I like, and she’s not shy about giving it to me. That’s the thing with us—no strings, no expectations, just a good time when we both need it. And right now, I need it.
We barely make it upstairs before I’m ripping that dress off her, and she’s pushing me back onto the bed, that wicked grin still plastered on her face.
“Missed this,” she murmurs against my neck, biting down just hard enough to make me groan.
“Yeah?” I flip us over, pinning her beneath me, my hand sliding up her thigh. “Show me how much.”
Kaia doesn’t need to be told twice. She’s always been good at this, and tonight’s no different. It’s rough, fast, and exactly what I need after a day like today. When we’re done, she sprawls out beside me, catching her breath, but I’m already getting up, reaching for my phone.
She notices, of course, because she’s not stupid. “Heading out?”
I shrug, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. “Got some stuff to do.”
Kaia watches me for a moment, then rolls her eyes, clearly not expecting anything more. “Right. Well, don’t be a stranger.”
I smirk, already halfway out the door. “You know where to find me.”
Back downstairs, I check my phone again. Caleb’s texted twice already, probably trying to make sure I’m still coming to this party.
Caleb: You better not bail, Cap.
Caleb: Maya is bringing a friend ;)
I roll my eyes, texting back a quick response:
Zane: I’ll be there. Chill.
Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m still going. Parties like this—loud, packed, everyone watching the “big man on campus”—they used to be fun. Now, they’re just... expected. But Caleb’s right. I should show up, if only for the team. We won the championship last semester. The party’s for us, after all.
Still, something about it feels off tonight. Maybe it’s the pressure of being captain. Maybe it’s the fact that everyone assumes I’m the guy who always wants to be in the spotlight when, truth is, I’d rather just do my thing, play the game, and not deal with the rest of the bullshit. And I’m over the Reapers politics. I want out.
But whatever. I told Caleb I’d go, so I’m going. I grab my jacket and head out the door.
The party’s in full swing by the time I get there, music blasting so loud I can hear it from halfway down the block. People are already spilling out onto the lawn, red solo cups in hand, laughing, dancing, stumbling over each other. Classic Blackridge.
I push my way through the crowd, nodding at a few familiar faces, but mostly just trying to get inside without getting pulled into too many conversations. As soon as I step into the house, though, I spot Caleb. And of course, he’s already with Maya.
“Zane!” Caleb calls out, waving me over, a big grin on his face. Maya’s next to him, looking as stunning as ever, and when she sees me, she gives a little wave, her smile more reserved. She’s always been like that around me—quiet, shy almost. Not that it matters.
“Told you he’d show,” Caleb says, clapping me on the shoulder as I reach them.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, glancing around. The place is packed, just like I figured it would be.
Maya looks up at me, her green eyes sparkling under the dim lights. “Glad you made it.”
I nod, giving her a small smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Caleb winks at me, clearly thrilled with himself for getting us all here, but I’m already scanning the room for the bar. If I’m going to be stuck here all night, I might as well grab a drink.
“I’m getting a beer,” I say, excusing myself.
As I walk away, I can feel eyes on me, but I don’t turn around. I don’t need that distraction tonight. Not when I’m already in my head about too many other things.
Grabbing a drink, I find a spot near the back, away from the chaos, and take a long sip. The beer’s cold, and for a second, it helps. But as I watch everyone around me, laughing, dancing, living it up like it’s the best night of their lives, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’m even doing here.
My father would not approve this, the voice inside me repeats. I take another sip of my drink instead.
Amelia spots me before I can slip away. Shit. She’s already pushing through the crowd, her eyes locked on mine, that damn smile plastered on her face. Before I know it, she’s right in front of me, leaning down, and perches herself on my lap.
“I miss you,” she purrs, running her hands all over me, her fingers tracing the edges of my shoulders, sliding down to my chest.
I don’t respond. Just take another sip of my beer, eyes scanning the room while she talks about whatever the hell she’s been up to.
A couple of guys pass by, clapping me on the back. “Yo, Zane! Go Ravens!”
“Yeah. Go Ravens,” I mutter, giving them a nod before they disappear into the crowd.
Amelia keeps going, hands wandering lower, voice practically dripping with need. “You’re not even listening to me.” She’s whining now, her lips inches from my ear.
“I’m listening,” I lie, but my mind’s already elsewhere. Halfway through my drink, I’m thinking about bailing. Amelia’s nice enough, but this isn’t it for me tonight. I don’t want the clingy bullshit, the fake laughs, or the usual routine.
Then I see an unfamiliar face.
My breath catches, the ground shifting beneath me.
Must be the alcohol, I tell myself.
She’s walking down the stairs, soft brown curls bouncing slightly with every step. She’s in a sweater and leggings, glasses pushed up her nose as she scans the room. She looks nothing like the girls here. Nothing like Amelia, or the rich girls parading around the place. She’s natural, soft in a way that makes you look twice. Makes you pause.
And she walks straight to Maya.
Must be the friend Caleb mentioned.
Amelia presses her lips to mine, cutting into my thoughts. I pull back, annoyed. “Wait,” I mumble, pushing her away slightly.
But when I look up again, the girl’s gone. Maya too. Vanished.
I scan the room, looking for Caleb. Maybe he can clue me in, but he’s nowhere to be found either. Meanwhile, Amelia’s getting bolder, sliding her hand over my crotch, her nails grazing me through my jeans.
My breathing hitches, more out of frustration than anything else.
“Can we do this later?” I mutter, pushing her hand away.
She pouts, but stands up, smoothing her dress down. “Fine, but don’t make me wait too long.”
I barely acknowledge her, already standing and weaving my way through the crowd. I need to find Maya or Caleb, or at least get another look at that girl. Something about her… I don’t know. It’s different.
I’m halfway across the room when one of the freshmen on the team grabs me by the arm, a huge grin on his face.
“Hey, man, I wanted to ask you about tryouts,” he says, practically bouncing with excitement.
I clench my jaw, nodding. “We’ll announce something soon. Just hang tight.”
He starts rambling about his stats and how he’s been practicing, but I’m not listening. My eyes are still scanning the room, trying to spot Maya or that girl. But it’s no use. They’re gone.
By the time I find Caleb, he’s leaving one of the rooms upstairs, a shit-eating grin on his face, a cheerleader trailing behind him.
“Where the fuck did you disappear to?” I ask, crossing my arms as I lean against the doorframe.
Caleb shrugs, not even bothering to hide his smugness. “Just having a little fun. You should try it sometime.”
“I saw Maya with a girl earlier. Where’d they go?”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What girl?”
“Brunette. Glasses.” Sexy as sin.
“Why? You interested?”
I glare at him. “Just answer the question.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Relax, bro. They probably went out back. Maya’s friend isn’t exactly into the party scene.”
“What’s her name?”
Caleb looks at me, eyes narrowing as he studies my face. “Why? You’re really asking about her?”
“Yeah, and?”
He smirks, like he knows something I don’t. “Her name’s Remy. She’s Maya’s new roommate. Why? You thinking about making a move?”
I don’t answer, just push past him and head for the back door, but I am way too late because neither girls are anywhere to be seen.
Fuck!
Class drags.
I’m sitting in the back of the lecture hall, barely paying attention. Some bullshit about economics—like I give a damn. It’s my third year here at Blackridge, and all I care about is hockey. The longer I stick around, the closer I am to making it to the NHL. To getting my shot at the Stanley Cup, just like my dad.
The professor’s voice drones on, talking about supply chains or some shit, but all I hear is the dull hum of voices, keyboards clacking, and the occasional cough. I tap my pen against the desk, staring out the window. This place is just a stepping Coburn. Hockey’s the real deal. Everything else? Just noise.
When class finally ends, I pack up my stuff and head out into the hallway. Caleb’s waiting for me near the lockers, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand.
“Yo,” he says, glancing up as I approach. “Class fun?”
“Fucking thrilling,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “I need something from you.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What now? Another party you’re ditching?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I need all the info you can get about Remy.”
“Remy?” His brow furrows in confusion, and then it hits him. “Oh, Maya’s friend from last night?”
“Yeah, her.”
He smirks, clearly amused. “Why?”
“Just get me the info, alright?”
Caleb shrugs. “I’ll see what I can find out. Give me a few hours.”
I nod and head off, going through the motions of the rest of my day. Gym. Lunch. Another class I don’t give two shits about. My mind’s elsewhere. Mostly on the ice. And a little on mysterious Remy.
There’s something about her. I haven’t even had a conversation with her, but she’s stuck in my head. Doesn’t make any sense.
Later, I’m in the locker room, lacing up my skates when Caleb walks in. He tosses me a folded piece of paper. “Got what you wanted.”
I take the paper, unfolding it quickly. It’s her student file.
“Remy Arden,” I read out loud, scanning the page. “First-year psych student. Scholarship kid. Went to—” I squint, trying to make out the name of the high school. “Eastwood Public.”
Caleb leans against the lockers, watching me closely. “Apparently, she’s a good student. Straight A’s and shit.”
I nod, continuing to read. “She’s been in a relationship for years,” Caleb adds, and his voice almost sounds amused. “Maya told me her boyfriend’s some guy from her old high school.”
I don’t know why, but the thought of her belonging to someone pisses me off. I can feel the anger bubbling up in my chest, and it’s fucking weird because I haven’t even talked to her. I’ve barely looked at her, but the idea of some random guy having her? It doesn’t sit right with me.
“You good, man?” Caleb asks, noticing the shift in my mood.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, shoving the paper in my bag.
He gives me a long look but doesn’t push it. “Alright. See you on the ice.”
Practice starts, and it’s like a switch flips in me. All my attention, all my aggression, it pours out on the ice. I’m skating harder than usual, hitting drills with more intensity than I should, but I can’t shake this irritation crawling under my skin.
Coach Jacobs notices. Of course, he does.
“Zane!” he barks, his voice booming across the rink. “Keep your head in the game. Stop letting your personal shit affect your performance.”
I give him a quick nod, pushing harder. My teammates—Noah, Brody, Declan, Thatcher—are all watching me out of the corner of their eyes. They know something’s up, but no one says shit. They’re smart enough not to.
I’m their captain after all.
We run through a few more drills, scrimmage for a while, and then finally, Coach blows the whistle, signaling the end of practice.
Caleb skates over to me, breathing heavily. “Dude, you looked like you were about to kill someone out there.”
“All good,” I mutter, yanking off my helmet and running a hand through my damp hair.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, but there’s doubt in his voice.
As we head back to the locker room, Caleb nudges me again. “What’s your deal with Remy anyway? You’ve barely said two words to her.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I snap, shoving my gear into my locker.
Caleb raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Jesus. You’re wound up tight today.”
I pull out my phone, scrolling through my contacts, my thumb hovering over Amelia’s name. Fuck it. I need a distraction.
I shoot her a quick text. Meet me at the mansion later.
By the time I’m dressed and heading out of the rink, I already have a response. I’ll be there babe. Xo