Chapter 19 Colt
Colt
My eyes study the crowd, looking for a glimpse of Stella’s tall frame and chocolate hair in the sea of blue, black, and gold.
The team and I exit the tunnel and skate a lap around the rink, hyping up the crowd as we do before every game.
I finally spot her and her friend—Nora—and the grin that spreads across my face could light up the moon.
Stella waves at me from behind the glass in the front row seats I reserved for her.
Excitement at finally having someone here to watch me again fills my chest as we lock eyes.
I haven’t had someone in the crowd cheering for only me since my dad passed.
We make our way to the bench, waiting for the announcers to call the names of our starting lineup.
Knowing she’s here watching, adrenaline and vigor pump through my veins like gasoline. All sound fades away as our first line skates into position.
Booker prepares for the puck to drop, and the rest of the game is a blur.
By the end of the first period, I’ve had an assist and scored a goal, after which I skated past where Stella was seated and banged on the glass with my stick as she cheered my name.
I’m just as on fire during the second period and the third, finishing the game out with my first hat trick and a win for the team, 4-2.
“Hell of a game, Crosby!” Coach hollers as we pile into the locker room, shaking my shoulders.
My teammates erupt in shouts, patting me on the back. I can’t stop the flush of pride that rushes through me.
“Whatever’s gotten into you, I wanna see more of it,” Coach continues, before addressing the rest of the team.
“Way to play like a unit out there, boys. Crosby may have been the one putting numbers on the board tonight, but you all made it happen. Y’all get cleaned up and go celebrate.
Be safe. Captain, buy Crosby a beer for me.
” Coach pats Booker on the back before heading out to talk to the local press about tonight’s win.
The guys all cheer again, congratulating me one last time before hitting the showers.
“Hat trick, babyyy,” Beau sing-songs, coming up behind me as I’m pulling off my pads.
Drew adds from across the room, “Stella has to come to every game now. It’s science.”
It’s not even superstition that makes me agree with him; I know for a fact I was playing better because she was watching. I was overcome with a visceral need to impress her, and it led me to play the best game of my career.
Leaving the arena, Booker, Beau, and Drew behind me, I spot the two girls in the parking lot, leaning on the hood of a white Nissan SUV.
Stella looks drop-dead gorgeous. She’s in a royal blue St. A’s sweatshirt—my sweatshirt that she must’ve stolen from my room last night—and a pair of light-washed jeans that hug her just right.
My heart skips at the sight of my name across her back.
She’s wearing one of those cute knitted-sweater-headband-earmuff things, and the cool night air makes her cheeks and nose perfectly rosy.
She turns her head, hearing our approach, and smiles broadly at me.
“You were amazing!” Her arms come around me in a quick, excited hug, catching me slightly off guard.
I didn’t expect her to be so affectionate so quickly, but you’re not going to catch me complaining.
I give her a squeeze in return before she pulls away, looking sheepishly at my friends, who are smiling and not-at-all minding their own damn business.
“Thank you,” I reply, pulling her attention back to me, “but you deserve the credit, sweetheart. I was only showing off because you were watching.”
She laughs, and Booker butts in. “He’s not joking. Best game he’s ever played.”
Stella rolls her eyes, still grinning, and looks like she’s about to rebut this statement when Drew’s voice cuts in.
“We’re gonna go down to Ale Mary’s to celebrate. You guys should come.”
Glancing over at him, I note that my friend’s gaze is laser-focused on Nora. While his suggestion was for both girls, it’s blatantly obvious he was directing it at her.
“Oh! Um…” Nora looks over at Stella, and they share an unspoken conversation in that way only girls are capable of.
“That sounds fun, we’ll go,” Stella answers for her friend. Nora blushes as Drew grins—only mildly seductively—at her.
At the bar, we grab a booth near the back, and the six of us spend the next couple of hours talking.
“-and I swear to God, this guy chased me three blocks before I finally lost him,” Drew finishes, wrapping up an elaborate story about how he got caught kissing some dude’s sister. I’ve only been half-listening the entire time because I can’t seem to focus on anything other than Stella’s laugh.
She’s sandwiched between Nora and me on the bench seat, and she hasn’t drunk anything but water the entire time we’ve been out.
Despite the fact that we’re in a crowded bar, she couldn’t look more comfortable, and a wave of satisfaction washes over me at the thought that she finally feels safe in this setting because we’re—I’m—here with her.
My mind can’t help but draw parallels with the last time she was at this bar and how anxious she had been.
“Hey, Stells, you want to split some nachos?” Nora asks after Drew’s outrageous story comes to an end.
Nora stands up from her seat at the edge of the booth, and Stella makes to follow. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go—”
Before she can, however, Drew cut her off. “I’ll go with you. I need another beer anyway.”
Nora doesn’t object and shoots Stella an excited look as Drew takes her hand and leads her toward the bar.
“That’ll be fuckin’ trouble,” Beau comments, taking a swig from his bottle with a smirk. It’s the first thing he’s said since we left the arena. I’m not sure why he’s being so quiet. No one’s making him sit here with us; if he wants to go party, he can go to the other side of the bar.
“Nora’s not like that,” Stella says, but sounds unsure.
“I didn’t mean her,” Beau corrects. “He’s trouble.” Booker snorts a small chuckle and nods in agreement.
“Drew is sort of like a kid in a toy store when it comes to girls,” I explain. “He sees something he likes, and he fixates on it for a little while, and then he moves on to something else.” No matter how I phrase it, there’s no way to make Drew’s behavior not sound suspect.
“He’s not, you know, intentionally leading people on,” Beau continues for me, seeing the look of judgment starting to form on Stella’s face. “He’s just…Drew. He can’t help it. He makes people like him, but he’s got the attention span of a squirrel.”
“Do you think that’s what he’s doing with Nora? Because I don’t think she’ll sleep with him, at least not right away, if that’s what he’s looking for.”
Beau shrugs, and Booker answers her question for him.
“We don’t really know what Drew does and doesn’t do with the people he hangs out with.
Sometimes he brings girls home, every once in a while I’ve even seen a guy leaving his room.
If he’s bisexual, he hasn’t told any of us. We sort of just let him do his thing.”
Stella nods, glancing over to where her friend and Drew are laughing at the bar, waiting for their food. They seem to be genuinely enjoying each other’s company, so Stella decides to drop the topic.
“What about you two?” she gestures with her hand at the two men on the other side of the booth. “No lady friends?”
They both glance at me before taking synchronous sips of their beer, making me bark out a laugh.
“Booker’s a cynic who thinks girlfriends are a waste of time, and Beau’s allergic to commitment,” I answer.
Stella shoots them both an incredulous look as they start trying to defend themselves, and their sputtering causes me to laugh even harder.
“Fuck you, Crosby,” Booker says, “don’t make me sound like an asshole to your girlfriend.”
Stella blinks at the g-word, but I can’t help egg him on. “You are an asshole,” I say, which makes him wad up Stella’s straw wrapper and flick it at my head.
Before Beau can try to defend himself against my comment, the two blonds return to the table with a platter of loaded chicken nachos that smell like they came straight from heaven. The earlier conversation now forgotten, we all dig in.
“Does Beau…not like me?” Stella asks as I drive her home.
I grimace and glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She looks apprehensive, as if asking that question might cause an issue.
“Honestly? I’m not sure what’s going on with him. He’s never been like this with a girl I’ve been seeing before.”
“You mean he’s never gone around actively avoiding interactions with the person you’ve been in a relationship with?”
“Yeah, no. He’s never…cared who I spend my time with.” I’ve been thinking it, but I haven’t addressed it with him directly. I wanted to believe I was overthinking his behavior, but if Stella’s picking up on it when she’s only met him a few times, I know for certain that it isn’t in my head.
“But he cares now? Cares about what? He was nice that first time I came over.”
“You want my honest theory?” I ask, gripping the wheel a little tighter.
“Yeah, of course,” she replies without hesitation.
“I’m worried he might like you too much, and is jealous. Of us. And, truthfully, it’s starting to piss me off. He shouldn’t act like an ass to you, no matter the reason.”
Stella scoffs out a disbelieving laugh. “He’s your best friend, Colt. He wouldn’t do that.”
“No, I know. He would never make a move on you. But I think he might be avoiding you so he doesn’t…catch more feelings. He’s also been acting weird with me, just not in the same way. He’s guarded when he talks to me.”
“Are you going to ask him about it?” Stella questions. I run a hand through my hair. Before I can put it back on the wheel, she takes it and holds it in hers over the center console, leaving me steering with a one-handed grip.
Her touch soothes my racing thoughts. “I’ll talk to him eventually.”
“I don’t want to…come between you guys.” She bites her lip, and I squeeze her hand reassuringly.
“Hey, you aren’t going to. We’re big boys, we’ll work it out. It won’t be the first time we’ve pissed each other off, and it surely won’t be the last.”