Chapter 6
NATHAN
The second I step inside, I want to leave.
It’s hot, crowded, and too loud. People are pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, music shaking the floor, and someone’s spilled something sticky near the door, because my shoes practically glue themselves to the ground. Great start.
There are people everywhere, crowded into corners, laughing too loudly, yelling over whatever song is blasting. It’s a lot. And don’t get me wrong, I like a good night out as much as the next guy. But parties like this? They’ve never really been my thing.
I don’t know why I came.
This is all Logan’s fault, of course, because his voice is still stuck in my head. Be fun for once.
So here I am at this crowded frat party, feeling uncomfortable as hell as I edge deeper into the house, keeping close to the wall until I find a spot that feels remotely breathable. Someone bumps into me, splashes their drink on me, mumbles something I can’t hear, and keeps walking.
I shake off the alcohol clinging to my sleeve, but I pause when my eyes catch Logan standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by people—of course. Drink in hand, laughter spilling out of him, every inch of him radiating that same easy charm he wears like a second skin.
He looks completely at ease, like this is where he belongs.
I stand there longer than I should, watching. Long enough to realize I’m still looking, and to force my eyes away.
My gaze moves across the room and I spot Ryan in the living room with my sister tucked into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
I start walking toward them, weaving through the crowd. Maisie’s laugh cuts through the music, and when I glance over, Austin’s got her half in his lap, whispering something in her ear that makes her swat at him, but he just grins wider.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Ryan says with a teasing tone in his voice. “Austin Rhodes, domesticated.”
“Shut up,” he says as he keeps his eyes on Maisie, looking happier than I’ve ever seen him.
For a second, I think about turning around. No one would notice if I left. I could go home, take a shower, maybe read, pretend I made an appearance.
But then I hear a laugh I’d recognize anywhere.
I glance over my shoulder, locking eyes with him as his grin widens, and before I can look away, he’s already moving toward me.
When he reaches me, he shakes his head. “Holy shit. I can’t believe it,” he says. “You actually showed.”
“Don’t make it a big deal,” I mutter. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”
His mouth quirks. “So you’re here to babysit. Cute.”
“It’s not—”
He just laughs, head tipping back as he bumps my elbow. “Relax, Hayes. I’m glad you’re here.”
He hands me a cup, and I take it mostly because it feels rude not to.
The beer’s warm and flat, probably having been sitting out all night. I take a sip anyway, because it’s something to do with my hands.
Logan doesn’t wait for a reaction. He never does. “Beer pong,” he says, his chin jerking toward the kitchen. “You’re up.”
“I don’t play.”
“You do tonight.”
Before I can argue, he presses a ping-pong ball into my palm. His fingers brush mine—barely a second of contact—but my brain apparently didn’t get the memo to ignore it. Then he’s already moving, cutting through the crowd like it parts for him on instinct.
There’s a girl watching him from the doorway, the same one who was glued to his side earlier. Her gaze follows him like he’s gravity.
“What about—?” I ask, nodding toward her.
“She can wait.” He doesn’t even look back. “You showing up takes priority.”
His eyes meet mine for half a second before he turns away again, and I hate how easy he makes it look, like I didn’t just spend fifteen minutes trying to decide if coming here was a mistake.
Before I can answer, he lifts his chin toward the others. “Reed. Rhodes. You in?”
Austin raises his eyebrows, already grinning. “Against you two?” He claps Ryan’s shoulder. “Sure. Let’s wipe the floor.”
Logan just snorts, already weaving his way through the crowd. “That’s cute,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Just know I’ve never lost a game of beer pong in my life.”
I raise an eyebrow, falling into step behind him.
It’s even worse in here. Hotter, louder, packed shoulder-to-shoulder. There’s a long table covered in red cups, beer spilled everywhere.
Ryan’s already posted up on the far side, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Austin’s beside him, grinning, spinning a ball between his fingers like a show-off.
“You’re going down, Gray,” Ryan says.
Austin lifts his drink at me. “Don’t worry, Hayes. We’ll go easy on you.”
Logan bumps my shoulder as he passes. “Ignore them,” he says quietly, his mouth too close to my ear. “We’ve got this.”
I snort, because it’s either that or acknowledge that the fact he got close just did something weird to my stomach.
The game starts when Ryan grabs a ping-pong ball, rolling it over in his hands and blowing on it before he sinks a shot. The crowd around us erupts into cheers, and he lifts his hand up as Austin high-fives him in celebration.
Logan rolls his eyes, grabs the cup, and drains it in one long swallow. His throat works as he sets it back on the table, and when his gaze finds mine, it’s that same challenge I’ve seen a hundred times on the ice.
“You’re up,” he says, bumping his shoulder into mine. “You got this?”
I roll my eyes, even though the corner of my mouth is already pulling up. “You know I played before you even came to this school, Rook.”
He grins, that cocky, smug grin that makes him look like he was born to flirt. “Oh, right. Back in the olden days.”
I shake my head as I grab the ping-pong ball, giving it a lazy spin, just to buy myself a second.
I’ve been to more of these parties than I can count, played more games than I can remember—beer pong, flip-cup, every half-assed drinking game in the book.
I just don’t make a habit of getting wasted when I have a 6 a.m. practice the next morning.
Still, the noise around us is loud and full of laughter, and for a second, I get why Logan likes it here.
My eyes narrow as I line up the ball, flick my wrist, and watch the ball drop straight into the center cup.
The second the ball lands, Logan wraps his arm around my neck, tugging me toward him. “Fuck yes, Hayes!”
I’ve been touched before. Teammates, fans, random girls at parties. But this feels different.
I don’t like that I notice the difference.
I shake it off as the game continues, Logan trash-talking the whole time, chirping at Ryan, mouthing off to Austin, all with a grin.
When I sink the last shot, the table erupts. Logan’s arm is around me before I even realize what’s happening. He pulls me in, knocking his forehead against mine, his grin so close I can feel the heat of it.
“Fucking knew you had it in you,” he says, his smile so close to mine I feel my heart race.
I shove him off, laughing under my breath, trying to breathe past the strange pulse under my skin. I don’t usually like this kind of spotlight, but right now it feels good.
“Rematch?” Austin’s already restacking the cups.
“Give it a minute,” Ryan says, dragging a hand through his hair. “We’ve been humiliated enough for one night.”
Before Logan can get another word out, a new voice cuts through the noise.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Colton U’s finest.”
I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. I do, anyway, watching as Chase Johnson, Westbrook’s golden boy, walks in with his girlfriend beside him.
He strolls into the kitchen like he was personally invited—which, for the record, he wasn’t.
Logan straightens next to me, Ryan’s shoulders tense and Austin downs the rest of his drink.
“Evening, boys,” Chase says, that lazy tone of his making the word sound like an insult. “No hard feelings, right?”
Ryan’s jaw goes tight. “Takes balls to show up at a Colton party after the shit you pulled last game.”
Chase laughs, quiet and smug. “Didn’t realize you were still crying about that. It wasn’t personal.”
Austin lets out a humorless laugh. “You elbowed our winger in the ribs. Off the puck.”
“Playoffs are messy,” Chase says with a shrug. “You know how it is.”
Logan leans his hip against the counter. “What we know is you’re a dirty player with shit aim.”
Chase’s eyes flick toward him. The guy thrives on being hated, clearly, because he smiles wider. “Relax. I’m not here to fight.” His hand slides lower on Aurora’s waist, like he’s staking a claim on her in front of us. I almost scoff. “Just wanted to party with my girl.”
I know it’s none of my business, but she can do so much fucking better. Aurora quickly became my sister’s friend after enrolling in Colton U, and I honest-to-God like her. But for the life of me, I have no fucking clue what she’s doing with a prick like him.
Aurora exhales. “I told him not to come,” she says, glancing between us. “But he insisted.”
Logan scoffs. “Didn’t realize Westbrook was so desperate they were sending spies to our parties.”
Chase grins. “Or maybe your parties just aren’t that exclusive.”
“Funny,” Logan says, still smiling, even though his shoulders have gone tight. “I could’ve sworn the invite said no assholes allowed.”
Chase laughs under his breath and tugs Aurora a little closer, steering her toward the other side of the kitchen like he’s bored with the whole exchange.
My gaze follows them across the room—and snags on someone else entirely.
Cole.
He’s standing half in shadow, back against the doorframe, his jaw so tight it looks downright painful. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move. Just watches them walk past, his eyes narrowing with every step. For a second, I think he’s actually going to hit Chase. Wouldn’t be the first time.
But he doesn’t. He just stands there, taking it in, and then turns and walks away.
Austin blows out a slow breath, setting his cup down. “Tell me again why she’s with that guy?”
Ryan shakes his head. “Because apparently love is blind. And also brain-dead.”
Before I can answer, a girl slips into the circle beside Logan and smiles up at him.
“That was impressive,” she says, her glossy lips lifting into a flirty smile. “You two make a decent team.”
Logan tips his head. “We try. Though I was clearly carrying him.”
I arch a brow, ready to tell him he did no such thing, but the girl beats me to it and laughs, shuffling closer to Logan. “Didn’t look like that from where I was standing.”
“You want to stick around to witness our rematch?”
“Maybe,” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice. “If there’s a drink involved.”
His grin widens and I know she’s got him. His gaze flicks across the group once more—pausing on me for half a second—and he shoots me a wink before he’s gone, following her toward the kitchen.
I don’t know why I care.
I shouldn’t.
I’m just here to keep tabs on him and make sure he doesn’t end up wasted or show up to practice late… again. I don’t give a flying fuck if he flirts his way through the party.
And yet, the second he disappears from view, something in my chest twists sharp.
Austin says something beside me, but it gets lost under the noise in my head.
I grab the nearest drink off the beer pong table and take a swallow before I even register what’s in it.
That’s when I hear a soft feminine voice beside me.
“Hey.”
I pull the cup away and glance down at the girl standing in front of me, her hips moving slowly to the music while her eyes are on me. She leans in close enough that I catch the faint trace of perfume under the smell of beer.
“You wanna dance?” she asks, smiling.
“Sorry. Not interested,” I say before I even blink.
Her smile slips as she blinks—clearly not used to rejection—then disappears back into the crowd.
Austin lets out a low whistle. “Cold, Hayes.”
“She’s not my type,” I say, taking another sip.
He grins. “Yeah? And what is your type?”
Ryan chuckles beside him. “Don’t waste your breath. He sure as shit isn’t telling. Man’s a vault.”
They’re both looking at me, waiting for me to reply or tell them to fuck off, and normally I would. But I just lift the cup again and let the burn sit on my tongue.
And still… my eyes drift—because they always seem to do—across the room, where Logan’s by the kitchen with the girl, leaning down to whisper something in her ear which she laughs at.
My grip tightens on the cup without meaning to, and I lift it to my lips, finishing off what’s left of my drink.
Austin claps a hand to my shoulder, letting out a low laugh. “One of these days, Hayes, we’re gonna get you to actually enjoy yourself.”
I give a small laugh, mostly for his benefit. “Yeah. Maybe.”
He turns back toward the table, walking toward his girlfriend, but I stay where I am, desperately trying not to look in a direction I’ve already looked in too many times tonight.