CHAPTER TEN
SONYA
It’s been less than twenty-four hours since Walker kissed me, and I still feel him. On my skin, on my lips. In my chest. He’s everywhere, and I wish I knew what to do with that. How to let time pass without him being a constant distraction. He’s taken up so much space, I’m not sure there’s any room left to dig myself out of this Walker-induced trance I’ve fallen into.
“Sunny! Over here.” Dylan waves me over from the middle row of my lecture hall. My lips part in surprise at the number of D1 hockey players currently crowding this room. I was expecting to come in today to discuss our initial ideas, maybe break into small groups to go over them, but instead, the class has doubled in size.
And Dylan is doing his very best to draw all the attention to himself.
“You didn’t mention you were going to be here.” I step into the row he’s chosen to make himself comfortable in. His dark hair is tousled, still slightly damp from the shower, telling me he and his teammates likely came here straight from practice. “Hi, you two,” I say with a smile, leaning forward to greet both Campbell and Fitz. “How was practice?”
“Fucking brutal,” Fitz answers for all of them, pulling his baseball cap down lower over his light brown hair to hide behind the brim as he sinks deeper into his seat.
I scrunch my nose up and look at Dylan. “Coach is frustrated with the current system fucking up where we’re supposed to be. We didn’t know we were going to be here until about half an hour ago,” he explains the details that Fitz’s answer lacked.
“That and we are playing like shit. Now we’re getting a week’s long punishment,” Fitz adds on, righting his hat again to meet my eyes.
“You’re not playing that bad,” I say, having been in the bleachers for their latest game. They may have lost, and maybe they weren’t at their best, but they are trying. All three of them shoot me a cold look. “Okay, yeah, maybe it was bad.”
“We suck,” Campbell says, raking his fingers through his hair. The movement drops me right back into Walker’s car, watching him do the exact same thing. While Campbell’s doing it out of frustration, Walker was doing it out of nerves. He was nervous.
Me. Our situation. The situation I put us in. It makes him nervous, and for whatever reason, that thrills me.
“What’s the face for?” Dylan dips his head towards me, lowering his voice. “You’re thinking about sex, aren’t you?”
“No.”
He chuckles. “So, yes.”
“Nope.” I shake my head, pressing my lips together. “My thoughts are completely pure. Haven’t thought about sex a day in my life.”
“You sure? Not thinking about getting dicked down by my boy, Soup over here?” he asks, nodding in Campbell’s direction.
I narrow my eyes. “Remind me to kill Bekah.”
“You know, he’d probably be up for it,” he says, ignoring my death threat. “He’s always had a soft spot for you.”
“It’s called being friends,” I argue, wanting to tell him to zip it. I can’t really blame Bekah for bringing it up in front of everyone. None of us are very good at keeping secrets from each other. We may have started out as friends, but at this point, they’re my family.
We don’t keep secrets. Even if sometimes we should.
“Then, care to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?”
“Not particularly,” I say with a smile, and thankfully, I don’t get to because Professor Andrews claps her hands at the front of the room, drawing everyone’s attention forward.
Despite being unable to keep anything to myself, my kiss with Walker outside our house hasn’t made it to my friends. As badly as I wanted to tell them, it felt like something I should keep for the two of us. At least, right now.
“You may have noticed that we have some new people joining us today,” Professor Andrews says, moving to the podium where her laptop is set up while my classmates’ eyes move around the new bodies. “Coach Shay was kind enough to extend his players’ time to us today. We have taken it upon ourselves to assign you each two players to create your player profiles, but there are more of us than them, so they’ll be getting doubled up. Please be wary of their time. They are doing us a big favor here by volunteering their time, so make sure you are prepared and not wasting it. They are going to be very helpful, so use them and their time responsibly.”
“Yeah, Sunny.” Dylan leans in. “Use me.”
“Fuck off,” I whisper, nudging him with my elbow. He lets out a laugh, leaning his face into my shoulder to muffle the noise before it echoes.
Professor Andrews pulls up a presentation on her computer, projecting it onto the screen with our player assignments. She begins reading them out loud, but my eyes drop down the list to my last name and smile when I see the names DeLuca and Quinn. “Looks like you two are with me for one,” I whisper with a grin, shooting Campbell a look around Dylan.
“Thank God,” Campbell says with a sigh.
“Who is Topher James?” Fitz asks, his eyes moving to me after finding his first assignment. I grimace at the name and point his attention to the front row where Topher, the biggest kiss-ass I’ve ever met in my life, sits. “I don’t like that face.”
“He’s a bit of a…” I trail off, trying to figure out how to put it kindly. “He’s a little overbearing. Kind of a dick.”
Dylan snickers. “Fitz can out dick him.”
“Fuck off, DeLuca,” Fitz grits out, his green eyes moving back to the screen. His hand moves to his jaw, scrubbing at the light dusting of facial hair that lines his jaw.
“Stop pushing people’s buttons,” I say, grabbing Dylan’s arm when he moves to lean over Campbell and pull him back to me while Professor Andrews continues to read out the pairings.
“He started—”
“No, he didn’t,” I cut him off. “Be nice.”
“I’m very nice. Some say—”
I dig my fingers into his bicep when Professor Andrews’ eyes come up to us before going back to her list. When she’s done, all the players move to hand out their contact information before they’re excused. Dylan stops to squeeze my shoulder when he comes back up the stairs after giving out his number to the necessary parties.
“Come over when you get home so we can figure out the dirty details,” he teases with a wink, shooting Campbell a look over his shoulder.
“Anyone ever told you you’re the worst?” I tease. “I’ll see you at home. Now, go away. You’re distracting.”
“Heard it here first, Soupy.” He slaps his hand against his friend’s chest, leaning in close and quietly saying. “I’m distracting.”
“I don’t think that was a compliment, buddy,” Campbell tells him. He gives Dylan a gentle shove up the stairs before waving to me. I bite down on my tongue, trying to hold in my laughter before turning back to the front and settling in for the beginning of a long semester.
“Hey, Sunny,” Fitz says from his spot at the stove when I let myself in through the backdoor, slipping my shoes off on the mat.
“Hey,” I say, leaning into the island counter across from him. “What are you making?”
“Some stir-fry bullshit. The nutritionist always sends out our weekly meals and the recipes keep getting lost in my inbox. This was the only thing I could find,” he explains, shaking his head at the pan like it has somehow betrayed him by being the wrong meal.
“It smells good, at least.”
His lips part, likely to argue with me, when his phone buzzes on the countertop, and they press back together to suppress a groan. “Would you bail me out if I committed murder?” he asks, and a laugh rips from my lips.
“What has led you to have murderous tendencies?”
He shoots me a look, and I realize I already have the answer.
I grit my teeth. “How many times has Topher texted you since he found out you were one of his assigned players?”
“I’ve lost count already. The kid needs to fucking cool it, or I’m going to block his number. He can do this project by himself.”
“I’m sure your Coach would be totally okay with that, too.”
He shakes his head. “The universe is punishing me.”
“Are Dylan and Campbell here?” I ask, choosing to ignore that comment. I do feel bad he got stuck with someone who will make this harder than needed. What I don't feel bad about is Topher having Fitz as one of his players.
It might make me a bad person, but Fitz isn’t going to sugarcoat this for him and make it easy. If Topher pisses him off, he’s going to let him know it.
“DeLuca is upstairs.” He lifts his spatula in the direction of the stairs. “Soupy isn’t home yet, but I’ll let him know to head up when he gets here.”
“Thank you!” I say, heading for the stairs. Dylan’s room, like mine, is the first door on the left and hangs ajar. “Hi, Dyl.”
Dylan looks up from the heavy textbook sitting in his lap. “Hey,” he says, patting the empty spot on his blue comforter. “How’d the rest of your class go?”
“It was good. Informative,” I say, crawling into bed next to him. “Are you aware your teammate is downstairs contemplating murder?”
“Already?”
I snicker, burying my face in one of his pillows. “He’s going to love this semester. Do you think they did it on purpose? Cause Professor Andrews has definitely already picked up on Topher’s sucking up. You should have seen him at her guest lecture last year.”
“Honestly? Probably. There have been whispers about our next captain since Denver’s graduating this year and it looks like Fitz is the front runner,” he shares. “Coach is probably testing him to see how he holds up.”
“That’s a little mean.”
“Yeah, well, Coach is a bit of an asshole.”
“And clearly your favorite person,” I say with a smile, turning over onto my back and tangling my fingers in my hair. My thoughts drift back downstairs to what Fitz said about meal plans from the team’s nutritionist. “Do you have a hard time keeping track of your meal plans?”
“They can get a little lost in the fold. Why?”
I shake my head, biting down on my bottom lip. “Just something Fitz said downstairs. What day works for you to sit down with me about this app?”
“We’ve got games back-to-back this weekend, but anytime next week should be fine. I’ll have to double check with Soup, see what his schedule’s like.”
“I can always sit down with you guys separately if we can’t find an overlapping time,” I tell him and let go of my hair. “How are you feeling about your games?”
“Good. We’re playing Detroit, and they’ve been playing worse than us,” he says, sinking into bed to lie down next to me. “I’m a bit bummed I’m missing Evy’s showcase because of it.”
I frown. “You’re okay that we’re all missing the game to go?”
“Yes, I’m begging you to miss it. You guys are always coming to support me. I think I can give up one day for you to go and support Evy on his big day.”
The juggling act Dylan and all his teammates pull off has always been impressive. Between trying to find a balance between classes and all that comes with being a D1 college athlete, I truly don’t know how they do it. Even though Dylan does it with a smile, I can see how much it weighs him down. He rarely has free time, and when he does, it’s spent catching up on sleep and schoolwork. This project will only add to that stress, so if I can take some stress off both his and Campbell’s shoulders and adjust my schedule, I will.
I can’t say the same will be said for Topher with Fitz and his other player. By the looks of it, Topher is going to run them into the ground with the circles he will have them chasing. Or, at the very least, trying to. Something tells me no one tells Fitz what to do. He is the leader, not the follower.
“I’ll be cheering for you from the showcase,” I say, reaching for his hand. “Always am.”
He squeezes my hand tight. “I know you are, and I appreciate it. Make sure you give that energy to Everett. He deserves it.”
“I will make sure to cheer him on for the both of us. He’s going to love it,” I say, grinning big. “Make sure to embarrass the hell out of him.”
“Maybe keep it to a minimum,” he says with a chuckle. “Got to work up to scaring the shit out of him with your overbearing excitement.”
I shake my head and smooth my hand down my torso, pulling at the hem of my shirt. “He’s already embraced it. He’s stuck with me now,” I inform him. “You all are.”
“Promise?”
Dragging my finger over my chest, I grin at him. “Cross my heart.”