27. Maya
Maya
Chloe and I are getting ready for the party tonight, but my concentration is floating somewhere far away from her bedroom. I don’t care about my outfit; I don’t care how my hair looks. I need to be in Jamie’s arms, making sure he’s okay, and coming up with a plan to rescue him from his father.
Dani texted me that her family will be moving up into their new house next week, and I’m excited for her to finally be here. Her impending company is like a light shining in the middle of a Category Five hurricane.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chloe asks as she applies the finishing touches to her make-up. “You’ve been staring off into space for, like, ten minutes.”
I grimace internally, not wanting to spill Jamie’s private business to her, but also knowing that thoughts of him have taken over every inch of my brain.
“I’m okay. I’m just nervous about tonight,” I provide, a half-truth.
“You shouldn’t be nervous. You said you spent the night with him, and he kissed you this morning. Maybe I was wrong, and you really are getting him to fall for you after all.”
I try to shoot a smile in her direction, but it falls flat. “I hope so,” is all I respond with. Chloe doesn’t know everything. She doesn’t know any of the more important details of the time I’ve spent with him lately, and I feel like a shitty friend, keeping so many big secrets.
However, confiding in my best friend about the qualms of my love life—and sex life—is something I can do without betraying Jamie’s privacy.
“I’m just worried he’s going to…chicken out, I guess.” Again, a half-truth. I’m more worried about Jamie cutting himself off from me again in an attempt to keep Ross away. I could see the indecision racing in his eyes this morning.
“I’m not going to lie to you; for your sake, I’m worried about that, too. But it’s like I said before: he’s got a big future ahead of him, and if he decides he doesn’t want to settle down right now, you can’t blame him, can you?”
“No, I suppose I can’t…”
As we walk up to the door of the hockey boys’ house, blaring music thumps in my chest. The door is standing wide open, people coming and going as they please.
The TV room is filled with people. There’s an ever present beer pong table that makes an appearance at college parties, and the lights are turned down low. Looking around, I’m overwhelmed by flashes of sequence skirts, rambunctious voices, and the smell of liquor.
Shoving our way through the crowd, Chloe and I carve a path into the kitchen, looking for a sign of Drew or Jamie or any other familiar faces.
“I’m getting a drink!” Chloe announces, shouting over the music, and I nod as she walks toward the coolers on the back wall.
She comes back with two seltzers, handing me one. “So, when’s your friend moving in?” Chloe asks.
“Monday,” I answer taking a sip.
“Is she nervous?”
“No, I actually think she’s excited.” Dani’s been pretty lonely at her other school. All her friends from high school went off to different universities, and Danielle ended up staying home to save money. She’s ready for fresh scenery and fresh faces.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Chloe says, smiling. Over my shoulder, she sees another girl she knows, and strikes up a conversation, leaving me standing alone by the wall.
Scanning the room once more, my gaze lands on Beau Warren—not a resident of this house, but a hockey boy nonetheless. I make my way over to him, noticing that he’s swaying hard, leaning on the counter.
“Beau?” I ask, nearly shouting.
“What?” He looks as if I startled him from a dream, glancing around confused before his focus lands on my face. “Oh. Hi, Coach’s Daughter. Fancy seeing you here.”
Beau and I have never actually talked before, but I’ve heard he’s a nice guy, if a little wild at times.
“Maya,” I correct, nodding at him. “I was wondering if you’d seen J—Booker? Is he here?” Calling him by that name—Ross’s name—feels even more repulsive now than it had before.
Beau squints, thinking hard, and my skin prickles at his drunken state. He doesn’t look great. Before he answers my question, his hand slips off of the counter top where he was holding his balance, and he stumbles.
Instinctively, I catch his large frame before he can fall, taking his arm around my shoulder and placing a stabilizing hand on his chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. No. Probably no, but it’s okay.”
His slurred, drunken words worry me, and I don’t know if this is how he usually is at parties, or if he’s above his typical level of inebriation.
I begin leading him toward the stairs, thinking the best thing for him may be to either purge the alcohol from his stomach, or sleep it off.
Two feats that can both be achieved in Jamie’s room.
“Let’s go take a break for a minute, okay?” I ask, trying to keep him from rejoining the party, and successfully get him up the stairs.
Drew exits his own room as I reach the landing, and he rushes to help take his teammate’s weight from me.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Colt,” Beau mutters, and my brows furrow in confusion since I don’t even think Colton Crosby’s at this party. However, Drew seems to understand, his face going stony.
“I found him downstairs and I figured we could go into Jamie’s room and he could rest for a minute,” I explain, letting Drew take Beau’s full weight and heading to Jamie’s door.
“Wait!” Drew says, voice panicked. “Let’s take him to my room instead.”
The way his eyes dart to the door over my shoulder brings me pause. “Why? What’s wrong with Jamie’s room?”
“Nothing,” Drew answers, leading Beau to the opposite side of the hall. “We can just put him in my room instead, I don’t mind.”
With that not-at-all subtle suggestion, ignoring Drew’s protests, I grab the handle and open Jamie’s bedroom door.
Standing in the middle of the room is a tall, slim brunette with pink highlights running through her hair, one of her slender arms wrapped around Jamie’s back.
He’s got an arm around her waist, and is holding his phone up, taking a photo of the two of them in the mirror above the dresser.
Both their heads whip around at the sound of the door opening, and the girl drops her arms from his body—not in a guilty way, but slowly, as if she’s preparing to meet me. She even smiles as she takes me in.
But Jamie doesn’t move.
His jaw clenches and the muscles in his arm tighten, like he’s contemplating whether or not he wants to let go of her waist.
And holding his gaze, watching as he doesn’t move, I know.
Ross is in his head. He’s going to push me away, and he’s going to use this random girl to do it.
Before he can make that choice—before he forces himself to hurt me even more than he is right now—I turn and storm away.