Chapter Eleven Rhys #2
“You have to be kidding me,” Freddy grumbles through a mouthful of pretzel before groaning and slumping against the booth, slapping his phone down on the sticky table.
“What?”
“Fucking puck bunnies ruining my life,” he moans, ripping off the rest of the pretzel like a caveman, shoving it into his already full mouth. “Paloma’s story is making me regret listening to you two idiots.”
Bennett’s nostrils flare, jaw locking as he bites back a retort. Usually, this would be the minute I change the subject to keep the peace, but I’m distracted by the video playing on a loop on Freddy’s phone.
I don’t care about the blonde in front of the camera, spinning in a little circle so the entire frat house party is displayed. But there’s a familiar brunette in the light of the flash as the camera quickly moves over her.
She’s only visible for a second before the image moves on to several snapshots of shot glasses and toasts, and before I can think better of it, I snatch Freddy’s phone off the table and click to go back, pausing the video with my thumb pressed down hard.
It’s her.
Sadie, sitting on the arm of a questionable-looking red sofa, her posture terrible and slumped so her chin rests on her palm. Her nails tap against her cheek as she stares emptily at the guy sitting on the actual cushions next to her with his hands drifting up and down her calves.
She looks terribly bored and so beautiful, with the frown I’m now so used to playing across her painted lips.
She is close enough behind Paloma that I can see her entire face, her smoky colored eyes, her hair slicked back into a pretty braided ponytail with a gray slinky dress that looks like it’s for a sophisticated night out instead of a frat party just off campus.
My chest aches, a strange bleed of panic working its way down my spine.
“Don’t mention it. It was good.”
That’s what she said. Not good enough, though, because she didn’t seek me out again. Didn’t show up at our morning skate or the second night of Learn to Skate.
I don’t blame her. I know I’ve been a husk when it comes to desire or passion—too afraid to try anything with myself , let alone another person.
I’ve thought about it, but the emptiness and depression gnawing in my gut always overcome any want. Even when I tried once or twice in the shower, the pain rushing in my head and lack of anything to think of that felt even remotely good just made me feel more broken.
Pathetic.
But I did feel something with her—something real and warm that chased every scrap of darkened shadows away from me while I focused on her. Just her.
“Jesus Christ, Rhys,” Freddy barks, shaking my shoulder and grabbing his phone from my too-tight grip. “You good?”
My breath comes out a little too loudly for my preference, kicking up at the concern splayed across both of my friends’ faces. Bennett’s brow is somehow furrowed deeper, a bit of frustration and anger blending with the distress.
“Are you with her again?” he asks, his voice low and quiet.
It takes me a moment to realize he isn’t talking about Sadie, because of course he isn’t. He doesn’t know her, let alone anything that happened between us.
No, Bennett is asking about Paloma, puck bunny extraordinaire and a previous situationship of mine.
It was only for a few weeks, and I can count the times we actually slept together on one hand, but everyone talked about it for months, as if Paloma Blake had officially achieved her ultimate trophy in bagging the captain.
“No.” I shake my head, gripping my thighs under the table to quell the tremors now rocketing through them. “No, I’m not.”
“You know her? Sadie?”
My head whips to Freddy, giving me an instant headache at the too-sudden motion. His eyes twinkle as he screenshots the frozen screen and pulls up the photo, tossing his phone to a curious but quiet Bennett.
“How do you know her?” The words spill out before I can stop them, muscles too tight as I wait for Freddy’s answer.
“I barely know her. I’ve just seen her at a few parties, is all.” He waves me off before smirking too widely. “Now, how do you know her?”
She pulled my body off the ice after I had a goddamned panic attack just trying to skate, which I can’t really do anymore without losing my shit, then flirted and smiled at me until I could breathe right.
She kissed me to the point that I almost felt like I wasn’t broken anymore.
“Yeah,” Bennett adds, sliding the phone back across the crowded table after finishing his perusal of Sadie. “Considering you’ve been locked away all summer.”
I wince, but let it roll off my shoulders just like every shot Bennett takes. I deserve it. “She’s a figure skater—”
Freddy snaps his fingers and points at me. “I fucking knew I recognized her from somewhere.”
“You just said you saw her at a party.”
“I mean, like, somewhere else . Anyway, continue.”
“I’ve been getting some private ice time over at the community rink, and apparently she had the same idea.”
“Are you guys…?”
“Absolutely not.”
Freddy raises his hands in quiet surrender. “Just wondering. I mean, you’re the one staring at my phone like it’s the fucking Stanley Cup.”
I don’t deny it, but instead opt for the slightest bit of honesty. “She seems cool. I barely know her, but… yeah.”
“So should we head over to the party then?”
A fantasy fills my head of showing up at the house, walking in and stealing her attention and time, putting my own hands on her bare skin—so much more of it than I’ve seen at the rink.
Seeing if her lipstick will stain my skin so I’ll wake up from nightmares with a tangible memory of something good.
“Don’t mention it .”
Her rejection would work like a shot to the head, but one I’m not ready for, so I stop the yes from spilling out of my mouth and shake my head.
“I need to get some sleep before our preseason meeting tomorrow.”
“C’mon, Rhys,” Freddy begs. “We’ll only stop by—we won’t even drink. Promise.”
Promises from Freddy are as reliable as ones from a politician, but a thrilling rush raises the hairs on the back of my neck at even the thought of seeing the girl plaguing my psyche.