31. Maisie
MAISIE
I don’t know what I expected from a hockey afterparty.
I mean, technically, I’ve been to one of Austin’s parties before—by accident—and it was wild. But tonight, it’s louder, even bigger and more insane.
Someone’s already mid-keg stand in the front hall while a group of guys chant. There’s a broken chair in the middle of the living room, and the music is vibrating my actual spine.
Aurora’s already halfway across the room, weaving through the crowd in boots that could easily double as weapons.
Isabella slows her steps beside me, looping her arm through mine. “Are you okay?”
I nod, adjusting the strap of my top. “I just forgot how loud and cramped parties are.”
She chuckles, and squeezes my arm. “Come on. Alcohol usually helps.”
The house is packed wall-to-wall with bodies. I tug at the hem of my top. My jeans that felt cute ten minutes ago now feel too tight. My top keeps riding up every time I move. And I definitely shouldn’t have worn my hair down. It’s already sticking to the back of my neck like glue.
We push into the kitchen, which somehow manages to be louder and hotter than the rest of the house.
Aurora halts in front of us the second she spots Cole.
He’s leaning against the counter, his jaw ticking as his eyes flick toward us. Or toward her, more accurately.
She doesn’t bother hiding her scowl. “Don’t you have a sewer to crawl back into?”
Cole’s jaw tenses as he chews his gum. “Didn’t realize they let Viper off her leash tonight.”
Aurora flips her hair. “Careful, Reaper. Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll bury you in the backyard.”
He pops his gum with enough force it sounds like a threat. “Keep talking and I’ll catch a felony.”
Aurora gives Cole a sugar-sweet smile, full of venom. “Good. I’d love to see you behind bars,” she says, before brushing past him, knocking her shoulder against his.
I blink, turning my attention to Isabella. “Did they just threaten to kill each other?”
She chuckles “You’ll get used to it. What do you want?” she asks, gesturing toward the drink table. “Jungle juice? Punch?”
“I don’t mind,” I say, even though I don’t really feel like drinking.
She fills up my cup with something orange and hands it to me, and I take a sip.
My gaze is torn when a group of people all cheer, though I can’t see where it’s coming from since the house is packed with bodies, reeking of beer and weed.
And somewhere in this mess is Austin—my boyfriend.
That word still throws me. Boyfriend.
I glance around the crowd of people and spot him before he sees me.
He’s across the room with Logan, both of them laughing and drinking.
At least he looks like he’s having a good time.
My eyes drift when I see a girl standing close to him, one hand on his arm.
She’s smiling, leaning in closer to him.
My stomach sours at the sight, but a few seconds later, Austin shakes his head and takes a step back.
“She was two seconds away from climbing him,” Aurora says, arching a brow as she sips her drink.
“He moved away,” Isabella points out.
“Still. That girl had a mission,” Aurora says. “I saw her lick her lips like he was dessert.”
“Let her try,” Isabella says. “It won’t work.”
The nerves in my stomach settle from their words. But before I can say anything, I notice Austin climbing onto the coffee table in the middle of the living room, Logan helping him up.
“Oh no,” I mutter, already mortified. What the hell is he doing?
“Everyone,” Austin shouts, raising his cup in the air. “Listen up!”
The music cuts off and everyone turns their attention to Austin. Some people laugh. Others yell ‘ Take your shirt off!’
Austin shoots them a wink. “Appreciate the energy. But I’m here for an announcement. Just in case anyone missed the memo,” he says, placing a hand over his chest, “your boy is taken. Locked down. Off. The. Market.”
He scans the crowd and then smiles when his eyes lock on mine and points directly at me.
I want to sink into the floor.
“That’s my girl,” he says. “Right there.”
I attempt to hide behind my cup as all eyes turn toward me. My face is on fire.
“So unless your name is Maisie Wilson, do not flirt with me. Do not touch my arm. And definitely do not ask me to do a body shot off your belly button. I’m a committed man now.”
Logan helps him down, and Austin throws an arm around him. “Now this guy?” He jerks a thumb at Logan. “This guy’s single, and fucking ready to mingle. Go nuts.”
The music kicks back in a few seconds later. The crowd cheers and the party rolls on like nothing happened, but I’m pink from head to toe.
He’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop smiling, knowing he willingly climbed on a table just to tell everyone I’m his.
But because the universe can’t let me enjoy anything for more than three minutes, I hear two girls near the hallway, talking too loudly to be subtle.
“Didn’t you hook up with Austin Rhodes last year?”
“Mmhmm,” the other says, sipping from her drink. “Twice. He was wild.”
I go still, my ears perking up.
The first girl laughs. “God, you’re so lucky. He’s so hot.”
“He used to throw me around like a ragdoll.”
The other one snorts. “Think he’s like that with her?”
She laughs in response. My stomach sinks. “Are you kidding? She looks like she doesn’t even open her legs for him.”
Aurora freezes when she finally hears them.
“I mean,” one continues, “she’s got a pretty face, but come on. He’s Austin Rhodes. He’ll get bored. What does he even see in her?”
“That’s probably why he’s shouting it from the coffee table,” the other adds. “Trying to convince himself.”
Something sharp lodges in my throat. I grip my cup tight in my hand. My face burns for a whole new reason.
Aurora turns and steps toward them. “You done listing your sex résumé? Congrats, you got laid. No one fucking cares.”
They whip around, startled.
“It’s a party,” one of the girls replies. “We’re just talking.”
“No,” Aurora says flatly. “You’re running your mouth about someone’s girlfriend.”
The girl rolls her eyes and they stalk off, muttering under their breath.
Isabella’s hand finds my arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie.
Aurora glances at me, her brows knitted, and Isabella wears a similar expression. They don’t really look like they believe it, but they don’t push either.
I move toward the drinks, dump what’s left of my cup, and refill it with whatever’s closest. My hands shake as I lift the cup to my mouth. The burn of vodka hits hard, but it’s not enough to drown out the words still playing on loop.
What does he even see in her?
He used to throw me around.
He used to want girls like them.
And now he’s with me.
My chest tightens. I thought I was over this. Over the body image stuff. Over the voice in my head telling me I’m not enough.
But it’s back. Yelling, filling every single one of my thoughts.
I tell myself not to let it in.
Not to let their words carve into me.
But they do.
Because deep down, some part of me agrees with them. Some part of me still wonders if Austin will wake up one day, look at me, and think— what the hell was I doing with her?
I don’t want to think like that. I want to believe in the way he looks at me. In how proud he is to call me his.
But it’s hard. Right now, it’s really, really hard.
I lean harder into the counter and refill my cup, trying not to fall apart. Not here. Not tonight. Not when I’m supposed to be happy.
So I drink, trying to push all of those thoughts out of my head.