55. LANE
LANE
The only reason I’m going to this party is because Cora’s here. It’s been almost two weeks since she missed the exam and I’m trying to be there for her. She still carries around her planner like it’s a lifeline but it feels like an afterthought—like her mind is elsewhere.
I get it. She’s struggling. I’m doing my best to remind her that she’s a twenty-two year old college student and isn’t expected to have it all figured out.
Typically if I have a free Friday night during the season, I’m typically at the rink or watching film.
Instead, I’m standing on the sidewalk outside a house that looks like it belongs in a real estate magazine.
The place sits right along the lake, three stories of glass and stone with lights spilling out across the water.
Cars are packed along both sides of the road, music thumping loud enough that the bass vibrates through the pavement.
Leo lets out a low whistle beside me. “Well,” he muses, staring at it. “This feels like a mistake.”
I huff out a laugh. “Little dramatic.”
“No, I’m serious,” he continues, gesturing at the house. “This isn’t our scene.”
He’s not wrong. Most of the time, the hockey guys stick to parties thrown by other teams. Soccer, lacrosse, basketball—same general crowd, same general rules. Everyone’s got something on the line, so things don’t usually get too out of hand.
A couple drinks. Loud music. Someone inevitably tries to start a beer pong tournament that lasts three hours.
But this? This is a full-blown blowout.
There are people everywhere—crowding the porch, spilling down the steps toward the beach, leaning against cars with red cups in their hands.
Someone’s yelling from the backyard. Another group is already halfway through a drunken argument about something that sounds suspiciously like fantasy football.
Leo glances at me again. “Whose house even is this?”
“No idea.”
“Have you met them?”
“Nope. I know they go to Great Lakes U.”
He squints at the place like that somehow makes it less ridiculous.
“Great,” he groans. “We’re at a mansion party hosted by strangers.”
“Apparently.”
From the outside it looks like someone’s parents’ lake house. Not a normal lake house, either—the kind with giant windows facing the water and a deck that wraps halfway around the building. We’re talking about a million dollar type of home.
Leo shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. “Remind me again why we’re here?”
I glance toward the open front door where people are pouring in and out.
Because Cora’s somewhere inside.
I shrug like it’s no big deal. “Just felt like getting out for a bit.”
Leo snorts. “Bullshit.” He bumps my shoulder with his. “But whatever you say.”
We start toward the house, weaving through the crowd gathered on the lawn. The music gets louder with every step, bass heavy enough that I can feel it in my chest.
The closer we get, the more obvious it becomes just how packed the place is. People stand shoulder to shoulder inside the doorway. A couple guys argue near the steps.
Leo leans closer as we climb the porch. “If Coach finds out we’re here,” he says under his breath, “I’m blaming you.”
I push the front door open and the noise rushes out all at once—music, voices, glass clinking somewhere in the kitchen.
“If Coach finds out,” I retort, stepping inside, “we were never here.”
Leo laughs behind me. But my eyes are already scanning the room.
A couple people recognize us the second we step inside. Not surprising. The hockey team tends to stand out in a crowd.
“Maxwell!” someone shouts from the kitchen.
I glance over long enough to see one of the lacrosse guys raising his cup toward me like we’re old friends. I give him a quick nod as we keep moving through the room.
Leo gets pulled into a handshake by someone from the basketball team. “You guys finally slumming it with the rest of campus?” the guy jokes.
“Field research,” Leo answers dryly. “Strictly academic.”
The other guy laughs and disappears back into the crowd.
The house is even more ridiculous on the inside. Massive open living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out toward the lake. Music blasting from speakers somewhere upstairs. People crammed into every available corner.
It smells like beer, expensive cologne, and whatever someone’s smoking near the back door.
Leo leans toward me. “This is already too many people. Even for me.”
I’m barely listening because that’s when I see her.
Cora’s standing near some speakers in the corner, surrounded by a group of girls I’ve never seen before. None of them look like the usual rink crowd or the library regulars she normally gravitates toward.
She’s in the middle of them, one hand wrapped around a red plastic cup. Her cheeks are flushed, hair a little looser than usual, eyes bright in that unfocused way people get after a few too many drinks.
She’s laughing at something one of the girls says, swaying slightly to the music. Then she lifts the cup to her mouth and drains the rest of it like it’s nothing.
My stomach tightens. She sets the empty cup down and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
Drunk. Not tipsy.
Leo follows my line of sight and then slowly looks to me. One of his brows raises and he shakes his head. “You’re serious?”
I don’t answer because something about the way she’s standing there feels wrong. Not just the drinking. The whole thing. Since I’ve met her, we’ve never talked about any of these people or any of the parties like this.
One of the girls next to Cora throws an arm around her shoulders, shouting something over the music.
Cora laughs again, but it’s a little too loud. Like she’s trying to convince everyone—maybe even herself—that she’s having a great time.
Leo lets out a low whistle. “Okay,” he says. “That’s… not what I expected.”
I drag my hand on the back of my neck. “Yeah.”
Across the room, Cora reaches for another drink some guy is handing her. Leo and I share the same look of panic—she just took a drink from someone we don’t know and has it to her lips.
Leo comes in with the loud, “Cora girl! There she is!”
Cora’s eyes brighten when she sees him and she lifts the cup to hug him. I reach for it and lightly pull it from her hands, setting it away from her.
“Leftie Leo. My favorite hockey player,” she says, her words slightly slurring.
He laughs and holds her up. “That’s me.”
Cora looks at me and her attention shifts. “You came!” Her arms are around my neck instantly and she’s leaning into me. She smells like lime and tequila—her drink of choice.
“Having fun?” I ask, my hands at her lower back.
She nods, her glassy eyes squinting shut. “Yes! I made friends.” Cora gestures to the group around her. They smile and wave. “I’ve not done this enough!” she shouts, throwing her head back laughing.
This really isn’t surprising. Cora’s been on such a strict schedule, or timeline, set by herself that I don’t think she’s had much of the typical college experience. Sounds like she spent most of it dating that fuck-face Freddy and that’s where any of her free time went.
With the slip of control, she seems to be tumbling down the hill a bit. Which is okay—I’ll be there to catch her if she gets too far.
“Let’s go to the beach!” she suggests.
It’s one of those times where arguing with the drunk girl you’re in love with probably isn’t the best move. So, I wave to Leo who has found a group of people he knows—because of course, he knows everyone.
“Hey, can Cora borrow your jacket?” I ask.
He nods, takes it off and hands it to me.
Turning back to Cora, I smile. “Only if you promise to wear this,” I suggest. She closes her eyes and smiles, offering me an arm to help her get it on.
I tell Leo we’ll be right back and let Cora reach for my hand. I take it, hope no one’s paying that close of attention, and we walk out to the beach.