Chapter Three
Leila
My phone buzzes with another text. It’s been almost a week since the party incident, and my brothers are still checking in like I’m a little girl that needs their protection.
Levi
How’s classes going?
Landon
You eating enough? Dining hall food sucks
Me
Classes are fine. Food is terrible, but I’m surviving
Levi
Good. Miss having you around
Landon
Yeah, the house is too quiet without you terrorizing us
Me
Aww, you miss me!
Levi
Don’t let it go to your head
Me
Too late. Already planning my victory dance
Landon
Brat!
Locking my phone, I shove it into my bag.
At least they’re back to their normal sibling harassment instead of full protective mode.
I swear in the last week they have messaged me more than in my entire life, practically tracking my every move, as if whoever gate-crashed their party was there to target me.
“You look way too happy for someone on their way to learn about . . . what is it today? Sports science stuff?” Abigail observes as we walk across campus toward the athletic center. She’s got her art bag slung over her shoulder—the complete opposite from me.
“Sports nutrition. And my brothers are finally being normal, instead of acting like they will never see me again.”
“Ah.” She nods. “The party paranoia finally wearing off?”
“Seems like it.” I adjust my backpack as we approach where we split up, the point where she heads toward the art building and I continue to the athletic center. “Though I still can’t believe Bodhi chased me.”
“Believe it, girl. You’re hot and forbidden fruit. Now all you need is for him to give you a good dicking.”
“Abby!” I say, and she laughs.
There is no way he would take it any further, even after I propositioned him.
I still don’t know why I did it. Maybe to stick it to my brothers, to show them they can’t control what I do or who I do it with.
It’s one of the reasons I decided against going to SHU.
I wanted to be able to date and not have them and their egos looming over my every move.
“What? I’m just saying, mysterious masked man, who may or may not be your brother’s teammate. That doesn’t just appear in your life every day.” She backs toward the art building. “Text me after class! I want to hear about your sports stuff.”
I shake my head and continue toward the athletic center.
There is no way the masked man will be back, not now that he knows I’m a Kane.
It’s why I avoid dating athletes. As soon as they find out who my brothers are, they back away slowly—or, rather, they are forced to stay away.
It’s easier to date someone normal; at least I have a better chance of trying to get laid.
My one sexual encounter was during one of their away games last year.
Robbie was on the high school team with them before they graduated, but apparently screwing me was payback for the way my brothers had treated him.
The athletic center is buzzing with people as I approach, and students in workout gear stream in and out of the open doors.
The class is smaller than my others, and as I enter the room, it looks like most people are here already.
I settle into a seat near the middle and pull out my notebook as Professor Phillips walks in and sets up her laptop.
“Good morning, everyone,” she says. “Before we dive into today’s lecture, I have an announcement. Next week, we’ll be taking a tour of the athletic training facilities, including the hockey team’s training center.”
My heart skips a beat. Of course . . . of course, we’ll be touring the one place I’m guaranteed to run into every hockey player on campus who hates my brothers. I really didn’t think this through properly when I accepted a place here.
“You’ll also be working in pairs for your final project on sport-specific nutrition plans,” she continues, “so I’m going to assign your partner now to give you time to get acquainted.”
Please, not someone weird. Please, not someone weird, I chant in my head.
“Marcus Brown and Sarah Williams,” she reads from her list. “Leila Kane and Knox Mercer.”
And I get paired with Knox Mercer of all people. It’s like my brothers are here trying to teach me a lesson, or the universe thinks this is a colossal joke. I can just see it now: one of them will find out and make a point of coming here and embarrassing the life out of me.
“Jennifer Lee and David Kenny . . .”
The professor keeps reading, but I’m not listening anymore; I’m scanning the room, trying to spot Knox. Then I feel someone slide into the empty seat next to me.
“Looks like we’re partners,” a deep voice says quietly.
I turn, coming face to face with the man himself.
Knox Mercer is enormous. He barely fits in the standard classroom desk, with black hair long enough to tuck behind his ears and dark brown eyes that seem oddly gentle for someone who plays hockey.
“You’re on the hockey team,” I blurt out, because apparently my brain has decided to state the obvious.
He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guilty. Defense.”
“I know.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “I mean, I’ve seen you play.”
His eyebrows raise slightly, and I bet he thinks I’m some desperate girl who wants his dick. “Yeah? You follow Gravepoint hockey?”
“Not exactly.” I fidget with my pen. “My brothers play for Stormhaven.”
He smirks at me. “I know who they are. The Kane twins.”
The way he says it makes my stomach flip. “You know them?” Duh, Leila, of course he does—they are rivals.
“We’ve played against each other a few times. They’re good.”
“That’s one way to put it.” I study his face, trying to read what he’s not saying. “The rivalry thing makes family dinners awkward.”
“I bet.” He grins, and it transforms his face. “Though I have to say, it takes guts to go to your brothers’ rival school.”
Something about the way he says it makes me think maybe he understands our family dynamics better than most people. I shrug. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Still think so?”
“Most days. Though I’m starting to realize I might have underestimated how complicated it would be.”
Throughout Professor Phillips’ lecture, I find myself stealing glances at Knox.
He takes detailed notes for someone who looks like he could crush me with his bare hands.
Then he surprises me even more when, after she mentions something about post-exercise recovery, he raises his hand to ask about protein timing.
Once the class ends and we’re packing up our things, he turns to me. “Want to grab coffee sometime this week? We should probably start brainstorming for the project.”
“Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. “I’m free Thursday afternoon.”
“Perfect. I’ll message you.” He pulls out his phone. “What’s your name on Insta?”
After we exchange our handles, he lifts his massive backpack over his shoulder. “See you Thursday, Leila.”
The way he says my name sends an unexpected shiver through me. No, Leila, I remind myself. Hockey players are off limits. There is no way I could ever take one home to meet my brothers.
As I head toward the exit of the building, the door to the athletic center’s main training area opens, and several hockey players spill out, sweaty and still in their workout gear. I recognize most of them from the game, but my attention immediately locks onto two figures at the back of the group.
One is tall and lean with dark-blonde hair—the goalie, Riven. The other has rusty-brown hair and moves with a cocky swagger that makes my skin prickle, and not in a bad way. Jagger is sexy as hell—it’s a pity he and my brothers are rivals.
They’re laughing about something, but when Jagger glances in my direction, his laughter dies. His eyes meet mine for a split second, and I see something flicker across his face. Then they’re past me, heading in the opposite direction.
I pull out my phone as I leave the building and walk across campus, composing a text to Abigail about my “sports stuff.” I tell her about Knox being my project partner and how I spotted Jagger after class, then shove my phone back into my bag.
The walk from the athletic center to the communications building for my next class takes about ten minutes. I cut through the quad and pull out my phone again to check the time, when it buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown
Did you manage to find a pineapple yet?
I stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk, nearly causing a collision with the guy behind me. What the hell?
Me
I think you have the wrong number
Unknown
Pretty sure I have the right number, Kane
My heart beats faster. Only one person called me Kane recently, and he was wearing a glowing mask at the time.
Me
Who is this?
Unknown
Someone who thinks you should invest in better running shoes
Oh my god, it’s him. It’s glowstick guy from the party.
Me
How did you get my number?
Unknown
I have my ways. So about that pineapple . . .
Me
What are you talking about?
Unknown
Safe word, remember? I’ve been thinking pineapple might actually work better than I originally thought
Me
Why pineapple?
Unknown
Well, screwing someone with a pineapple seems dangerous. Plus explaining that to an emergency room doctor would be awkward AF
I snort out a laugh. This guy is absolutely insane.
Me
You’re crazy
Unknown
So I’ve been told. But I’m also right about the emergency room thing
Me
How do I even know you’re the same person from the other night?
Unknown
You were wearing a Kane jersey. You ran into the woods. You have excellent reflexes but questionable decision making skills
It’s definitely him. My palms sweat just thinking about that night. The smell will haunt me for a long time, and every time I think about it I can almost taste it.
Me
Questionable decision making skills?
Unknown
What do you call running toward the woods instead of toward the crowd when masked strangers crash a party?
Me
Maybe I was running FROM the crowd
Unknown
Smart girl. Maybe you do have survival instincts
Me
Sometimes
Unknown
Were you serious about me bringing friends?
My face goes bright red as I remember what I said as I left him in the woods.
Me
That was sarcasm
Unknown
Was it though? It sounded like a suggestion
Me
I was being a smartass
Unknown
So you don’t want me to bring my friends?
Me
I don’t want you to do anything
Unknown
That’s disappointing. Here I was thinking you were into group activities
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with a stranger.
Me
You’re unbelievable
Unknown
So I’ve been told. But you suggested it
Me
I was being sarcastic. You scared the hell out of me
Unknown
Mission accomplished then
Me
You’re proud?
Unknown
A little. Takes skill to sneak up on someone
I glance at the time on my phone. I’m definitely going to be late now, but I can’t stop myself from answering him.
Me
No it takes being a psycho
Unknown
Psycho is such a harsh word. I prefer mysterious
Me
Same thing
Unknown
Is it though? Because you’re still texting me
He has a point, and I hate that he does.
Me
I have to get to class
Unknown
Don’t let me keep you, but Kane . . .
Me
What?
Unknown
Remember what I said about the safe word. You never know when you might need it
Before I can respond, another text comes through.
Unknown
And I’ll consider the friend suggestion for next time
I shove my phone into my backpack and practically run toward the communications building. This guy is absolutely infuriating, but I can’t deny that he makes my heart race in a way that has nothing to do with being late for class.
By the time I hurry into my Public Speaking class with thirty seconds to spare, I’ve convinced myself that I should block the number and forget it ever happened.
But as Professor Mason talks about the power of persuasive communication, all I can think about is distorted voices and glowing masks and being chased by complete strangers.
I’m definitely not blocking that number.