TWENTY -THREE
Cassie
Two Years Ago
“I don’t even know what we’re doing here,” I told Victoria, a newfound friend of mine here on campus. She was an art major. She wore black clothing and had piercings I didn’t even know you could have. She also seemed out of my league, friend-wise, but she let me hang around her. “This isn’t either of our scenes.”
Vic laughed. “You don’t have a scene, so what could it hurt?”
She wasn’t wrong. If I had any kind of “scene,” it would probably be in a local coffee shop. Not the hockey bar.
“Why are we here again?”
“We’re supposed to meet my friend for a beer, but she’s not here yet. You’ll love her, she’s a goodie.”
Anticipation ate at me. Since I’ve been coming to Rose Hill, I’ve never been able to form real connections with people.
My mother would tell me that it was because my nose was buried in a book half—or more than half—of the time. But it was usually because I didn’t really get along with other college students.
I didn’t have the itch to go out and party like the other students. I was perfectly content at home on a Friday night.
Except this one.
I had been dying to get out of the house. Mostly because I felt myself creeping closer to the end of college, and I had nothing to show for it. Of course, I was entering the master’s program. But my brain told me that that was a completely different thing from college.
We settled up to the bar, the rowdy noise filling with each passing moment. We’re not there for ten minutes when the doors to the bar are shoved open and a group of college boys shove into the bar, grins stretch their faces, and the patrons of the bar start cheering loudly at their presence.
“See, eye candy.” Vic took a sip of the beer that was just placed in front of her. I grabbed mine and took my own sip of the bitter liquid. Blech. I hated beer. “Totally worth sucking down cheap beer.”
“That’s why we’re here? To stare at the hockey team?”
Vic’s wide blue eyes met mine, and she gave me a look. “Duh. Look at those adorable dummies. You grab one of those freshmen or sophomores, and you can really mold them to your liking.”
I eyed my new friend dubiously. “Do you do that often?”
She hummed in the back of her throat. “Not too often.” She then raised her hand and pointed at someone. “See him?”
I tried to discreetly follow her hand, but she was being so obvious about her pointing that the man she was pointing at was staring right at us. Or more accurately, he was staring at Victoria, and the look on his face made me squirm.
“Who’s that? Your boyfriend?” I asked her, turning back to take another sip of beer to save myself from the intensity of their stares.
Victoria barks out a laugh and turns her back to him, and she pats my shoulder. “Oh, my sweet, summer child. No. He’s not my boyfriend. More like…a break.”
“Okay,” I answered, even though I had no clue what the hell she was talking about. I cursed my naivety right then. Not understanding what she was talking about made me feel like I was sixteen instead of twenty-two.
“He’s just a way to pass the time. He’s real good at distracting me.” She threw another glance over her shoulder, and curiosity got the best of me, so I looked too, and sure enough, he was still staring at her.
He was tall from what I could see, had wavy brown hair and intense brown eyes that made me shiver. It wasn’t even a good shiver, more like a “Look away!” kind of shiver.
“He’s intense.”
“He’s a wonderful student,” Victoria purred, letting out a laugh when she saw the look on my face. “Don’t you worry, I won’t leave your side tonight.”
Relief took over me, and I gave a faint smile. “Thanks. I’ve never been one to frequent bars.”
“I can tell.” She didn’t say it as a dig, more like just an observation. “You’re a good girl. I bet your grades are perfect.”
I blushed, hating for whatever reason how correct she was. “They’re all right.”
“Aren’t you entering the master’s program? That’s what my friend is doing, too. And her grades are pretty stellar.”
“Yeah.” It was true, of course. You didn’t get into those programs by having bad grades. Still, sometimes it made me think I wasted my years at college. I didn’t get to live the real “college experience” that everyone else seems to have.
The desire to go out and party, even if I’d had someone to go out and party with, hadn’t been there.
But when I’d met Victoria, who was an apprentice at the tattoo shop I get tattoos at, she asked if I wanted to come to the bar for a drink tonight, and I, being at the end of my college career—before the master’s program, of course—thought it was a good idea.
That had yet to be determined.
A body shuffles in next to me at the bar, and I instinctively move away from him, pushing into Victoria.
She is looking in another direction, and when I see who she’s looking at, I brace myself for her to leave me. There’s yet another guy eyeing her like he’d like to have her for his next meal.
Something tells me it could be his last if he’s not careful.
“What are you drinking?” The man on my left pulled my attention back, and I blinked at him in surprise.
The man staring at me is handsome. Really handsome.
He had light-brown hair that’s a little too long and a dimple in his cheek when he smiled at me. His teeth were perfect, so likely not a hockey player. There was scruff on his cheeks and down his neck, and I would guess he was around twenty-two himself.
I smiled at him and cleared my throat when I realized he was grinning at me and waiting for my answer. “Oh. Beer.”
His grin widened, and he nodded, then looked over at the bartender. “Two more beers, please.”
Somehow, the way he asked made me feel like he was making fun of me, but then his brown eyes came back to mine, and I settled again.
His gaze was unnerving, and it was very unusual for a man to just stare at me without talking to fill the silence or have a purpose for the staring.
Finally, it got to me, and I snapped. “What? Is there something on my face?”
Victoria looked over at me and inspected it, even though I wasn’t technically asking her. “No. Hey, I’m going to the restroom really quick, watch this?” She tapped her beer and didn’t wait for a reply before hopping off the stool and heading toward the back of the bar.
I tugged her beer a little closer to me and watched it like my life—or hers—depended on it.
“There’s nothing on your face, Sunshine. Just taking in a beautiful woman, there’s nothing wrong with that, right?”
I blushed hard. I could feel it spreading over my cheeks and down my neck. It was impossible to hide from anyone looking, and judging by the wide smile on his face, he could see every bit of it.
“What’s your name?” he asked, leaning on the bar so he could get a better angle to look at my face.
I cleared my throat, my gaze returning to the two beers in front of me. I wished the bartender would hurry it up and deliver this guy’s beers so he would walk away. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him, I did.
I just didn’t know how.
“Cassie,” I said quietly, not looking over at him. He was way too handsome.
“Cassie,” he said in reply, almost like he was talking to himself. I chanced a look at him, and when his eyes met mine, he smiled, holding out his hand. “I’m Lincoln.”
His arm flexed as I took it and shook it with mine. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” he replied, still holding my hand and looking me over. He wasn’t ogling me, just trying to place me. His next words confirmed it. “Have I seen you before? You look familiar.”
I shrugged. “Who knows. I’ve been going here for a while.”
“But you don’t come out.” His words came out as a statement, not a question.
“No. I really don’t.”
He looked at me, and I couldn’t help but like having his full, undivided attention. “Why did you come out tonight?”
I gestured over my shoulder in the direction Victoria went. “My friend invited me.”
“Is that all it takes? An invitation?”
“Well.” I licked my lips and took a sip of the bitter beer, even though I really didn’t want it. “It’s better to have an invitation than to go somewhere alone.”
“Hm,” he hummed. Then his beers arrived, and I felt equal parts relief and disappointment that he was going to leave.
It was for the best, I told myself, not wanting to feel like I was sad about it.
“You better drink up.” He nodded to my still over half-full beer and then handed me the other one he just ordered. I stared at it in shock and watched as he handed cash over to the bartender.
“Oh,” I said, glancing at the drink. He lifted his beer up for me to tap my drink to his, and I smiled for the first time since he sat down, lifting my beer to tap it against his.
“Cheers,” he said, taking a massive gulp of his beer and shocking me. I still only took a sip, knowing if I tried it, the beer would end up back on this bar top before it ever hit my stomach.
“Wanna dance?” he asked out of nowhere, holding his hand out to me.
I chuckled and shook my head. “No.”
He looked delighted yet surprised, all at the same time. “Why not?”
“I don’t dance.”
“Sure you do, you just need a few more beers, and you’ll be a pro dancer.”
I laughed along with him. “Yeah, no thanks. I still have dignity in place.”
“Bah.” He waved his hand at me and took another sip of his beer, waving his hand for another. The man was going through it quickly, and I’d yet to touch the one he bought me. “That’s just too much good judgment stopping you from having fun.”
“Oh, is that what it is?” I asked, giving him a grin. It felt a hell of a lot like flirting, but there was no way. This guy was gorgeous. His jaw was square, his scruff was perfect, his eyes were kind and warm, his smile was infectious…no way was he into me.
“It definitely is,” he said, leaning closer to me.
Okay, maybe it is flirting.
“Did you watch the game?”
Considering this was the hockey bar, I had to assume that he was talking about the hockey game the Vapors, the college team, just played.
“Oh uh.” I bit my lip and pretended to look at the team for something sports-related, then slowly shook my head as a smile slipped onto my lips. “No.”
His jaw dropped open, and he looked at me in surprise, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes that kept the smile on my face. “No? How could you have not watched the game?”
“Because.” I drew the word out, looking for an explanation but coming up blank. “I just…didn’t?”
He shook his head, there was still the spark in his eye, but he said, “That’s very disappointing, Sunshine. How dare you not watch me win the game?”
“Oh well, since you’re being so modest…”
“What?” He held up a hand. “I shot the winning goal.”
“That’s very impressive.”
He eyed me and pursed his lips. “I feel like you’re lying.”
“I’m not!” I laughed at his face, turning my head away from him and taking a sip of beer.
“Ha, yeah right. You’re totally lying to me.” He nudged my shoulder, making me feel like we were going beyond flirting even though rational thought told me that it wasn’t. This was normal for our age, this was innocent. “You don’t like hockey.”
I shrugged, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “It’s not that I don’t like hockey, I just don’t know hockey. I’ve never seen it.”
Lincoln gaped at me, his mouth hanging open as his eyes tracked over my face. “You’ve never watched a hockey game?”
I giggled, a thrill running through me at this attention he was giving me. “Nope.”
“Well, we’ll have to change that,” he said, giving me a wink that made butterflies erupt in my stomach.
Victoria came up then, bumping my shoulder with hers. “Come on, we’re going to go party at the hockey house.”
I turned to her and frowned. “The hockey house?” That sounded ominous to my innocent ears.
“That’s my house,” Lincoln piped up, hearing our conversation. “Come on, we just go hang out. We have a pool table and stuff, it’s fun. Here.” He reached into his pocket and stole a pen off the bar, writing something on a keychain before handing it over. The number eighteen was on one side, with the Vapors logo and his address and phone number on the back. “So you don’t get lost.” He handed the keychain to me, and for whatever reason, I held it tightly in my hand.
I felt torn. Part of me really wanted to experience this hockey house party—to get out of my comfort zone and go have some fun.
But another part of me dreaded going to a house I didn’t know and being around a bunch of strangers.
I’d come this far, though, and I could handle it.
At least once.
The hockey house was exactly what I expected it to be. It was fairly kept up on the outside, and given that it was on campus property, I assumed that the campus kept it up themselves.
Walking inside was madness, and I linked my arm through Victoria’s as we walked through the front door. We’d walked from the bar like most of the students did, but we took a detour to the convenience store first because Vic had a craving for some gummy candy.
So a half hour after we left the bar, we found ourselves inside a rowdy, loud and people-packed house.
It was so not my scene.
Occasionally, I didn’t mind a crowd. There were a lot of times that I liked going to concerts and being around the same people who enjoyed the same music as I did.
But this kind of situation, where college students were drinking to be drunk and to get attention from, well, anyone, wasn’t really where I liked to put myself.
“Weren’t we meeting your friend tonight?” I yelled in Vic’s ear over the heart-thumping bass of the music.
It was way too loud in here.
“She had to bail! She wanted to study, instead,” Vic replied, yelling over the music. The only difference between her and me, though, was that she had a big smile plastered over her face.
Apparently, it was a scene Vic enjoyed.
I was disappointed about her friend bailing and wished I knew the friend so we could go study together.
Then, two seconds later, the thought left my mind as Lincoln came into view.
I didn’t know what it was about that man that got my stomach going, but every part of my body came to attention the moment his eyes settled on mine.
He made his way through the crowd, ignoring the calls from the people—mainly the girls—around him with his focus completely on me.
When he got to my side, Vic told me she was going to find a drink and disappeared into the throng of people, leaving Lincoln and me completely alone.
“Hello, Sunshine,” he said, making chills break out over my arms.
It wasn’t okay that my body had such a reaction to him. I needed to chill out, be calm, and not let him get to me.
“Hello,” I replied, trying to appear cool. It was likely failing, but hey, I put in the effort.
“Want a drink?” Lincoln asked, gesturing with the red cup already in his hand over to the area I assumed their kitchen was.
I didn’t really want a drink, but I remember once someone telling me that if I was ever nervous at a party, to get myself a drink. Even if I didn’t drink at all, having something in your hand helped.
So I nodded and followed him to the kitchen. He reached his hand back toward me as we wound through the crowd, and I stared at it for a moment before I looked at the back of his head. Only he wasn’t looking forward, he was looking back at me with a grin that could only be described as trouble.
“Come on, I don’t bite,” he said, wiggling his fingers at me.
“Sure, you don’t,” I said in a moment of false confidence.
His grin widened, and I noticed how great his smile was. It was really fantastic, and he seemed to do it often.
I liked when a guy smiled.
I slipped my hand into his when someone fell into me, and he pulled me to him, practically tugging me to his side to save me from getting smashed into a wall.
We found our way through the kitchen, and I looked for Victoria to no avail, she must have found someone to disappear with. I was only partially annoyed until Lincoln turned his attention to me and asked what I wanted to drink.
“You don’t seem like a beer girl,” he announced, like he knew I didn’t want to drink and was only trying to be polite.
“I’m not really an alcohol girl.” Unless it was a very fruity, girly drink, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him right now.
“Okay.” He headed to the fridge and opened it, holding up a can of soda and a bottle of water. “Neither are opened, so take your pick.”
I appreciated the gesture and gratefully took the bottle of water.
“Perfect.” He replaced the can and turned to me, a spark in his eye. “Have you ever played beer pong?”
I tilted my head to the side. “Um, no.”
“Well.” He faked cracking his knuckles and neck, then gave me a look that made me laugh. “Get ready to get blown away. Come on.” He reached for my hand, and I placed mine in his with much less hesitation this time, my stomach rioting with those pesky butterflies yet again. “I need a partner.”
A while later, after we played three rounds of beer pong and Lincoln and I absolutely lost all three rounds, he was completely hammered and I had to use the bathroom.
I smiled to myself as I washed my hands, wondering if he knew how much he’d been touching me all night. He’d steady me by holding his hands on my hips, even though he was the one taking all the drinks to save me from having to do it.
Then, when it was his turn, he jokingly made me hold his hips, making me laugh.
When we’d hit a ping pong ball into the cup of the other team, he’d celebrate like he just won the Stanley Cup and swing me into his arms, placing a kiss on my cheek that made me blush every time.
And this last time, he’d placed the kiss so close to my lips that I’d been prepared for it to turn into more.
Finished, I turned out the light in the bathroom and headed toward the living room, where I left him on the couch. The party was still in full swing, and I saw Vic dancing with some guy.
She gave me a little wave, and I headed back toward the couch, eager to continue my night with Lincoln.
But when the couch came into view, everything in me stopped cold.
Because on the couch was Lincoln, and on his lap—actually straddling his lap—was a girl with long blonde hair and her mouth firmly attached to the one that had just been pressed to my cheek.
I felt mortified.
There was no one to turn to, no one to ask for help, and thankfully, no one to see how humiliated I was.
I watched for far too long, wondering, hoping, and wishing he would push her off and realize what he was doing, but he didn’t.
And I knew in the back of my mind that he wasn’t mine, we weren’t together, and he was massively drunk off his ass.
But in the end, none of that mattered.
I found Vic and offered to walk her home. She waved me off, telling me she would call me later, and I was thankful I had been able to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.
I desperately didn’t want them to.
So I headed outside, telling myself that none of it mattered anyway, that Lincoln was obviously just a playboy, and I didn’t want someone like that.
That was the day that I decided to hate Lincoln Ellis.
That was the day that I lied to myself about hating him, too.