Chapter 9
NINE
CONNOR
“Who is afraid of the big bad wolves?” Ollie growls from atop one of the benches in the locker room. He’s got his fingers curled into claws and is pawing at the air in front of Tanner.
“Stanford, that’s who!” Tanner calls back, dropping to the floor and pretending he’s been wounded by Ollie’s fake claws.
I shake my head at their antics, but I can’t help my grin as I towel off. Because we just wiped the floor with one of the top teams in the league. And Daisy was here to see it happen.
After she spent all of last week avoiding me, spotting her in the crowd tonight was the last thing I expected. But there was no mistaking the hazel eyes staring back at me, wide and alert, and definitely just as surprised.
I would be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about her since she banged down my door.
I’m pretty sure that’s a bad omen—thinking about one woman while you have another in your bed.
Which is why I asked Maddison if we could watch a movie instead of picking up where we left off.
I haven’t brought anyone else home since.
Just until I can get my head straight, which is proving more difficult than I thought.
“Were we ever that stupid?” Luke asks as he drops onto the bench beside me. I look up in time to see Ollie pin Tanner to the floor with the end of his hockey stick. He’s barefoot and in his boxers, wet hair sticking up in ten different directions after his shower.
I shake my head and pull my dress shirt from my locker. “Worse.”
He tips his head back, laughing. “That’s what I thought.”
The energy is electric tonight and we’re all feeling it. With two wins on home ice in as many weeks, it looks like we finally broke our losing streak.
“Knock it off, you clowns,” Coach calls out when he appears in the door a few minutes later, his usual scowl a little softer around the edges tonight.
Ollie lowers his stick and Tanner jumps to his feet as Coach drops his clipboard on the bench closest to them. One by one, we turn, giving him our full attention. “First of all, good job. I mean that. Each of you put up a fight out there. You deserve to celebrate tonight.”
One of our younger defensemen has the guts to give a whoop whoop from the back of the room, kickstarting a round of cheers from the rest of us.
Coach shakes his head, but he lets it happen.
The guy is scary on the best of days, but he’s more bark than bite.
Especially tonight—even he can’t resist the high of another win.
“With that said,” he continues when we’ve settled again, “I expect to see you all back on the ice bright and early Monday morning. And no broken bones,” he warns, shooting a stern look in Griffin’s direction, who is still sporting a nasty bruise across his cheek from when he broke his nose last week.
“What did I do?” Griffin scoffs, eliciting a round of laughter from all of us.
Coach just shakes his head, looking as disappointed as he did when Griffin first rocked up to practice sporting an injury he didn’t get on the ice.
“Enjoy the celebrations,” he finishes off before he snatches up his clipboard again and strides out the door, disappearing before he can overhear everyone’s plans for tonight.
Coach has a strict don’t-need-to-know policy, as long as it doesn’t get us arrested or benched.
The moment he’s gone, Ethan takes his place. “You heard the man. Last loser at Tipsy’s buys the first round.”
“Hell yeah!” Ollie exclaims before clambering off to his locker to get dressed. I wouldn’t put it past him to show up in his underwear if he thought he was on the brink of losing a bet.
“Ready?” Luke asks when I shrug my coat on over my dress shirt. Aiden is towering behind him, hockey bag slung over his shoulder and his eyes peeled on his phone screen. He types up a quick message before he stuffs it into his pocket.
“Yeah, let’s go. There’s no way I’m buying these losers a drink.
” My savings account is already crying at the thought, even if I know Luke would swoop in last minute to cover it the way he always does.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to never have to worry about money like that. Peaceful, I think.
Finn is waiting for us by the front door of the arena. “Ready?”
“Oh yeah, I need a drink to wash away the taste of McKibben’s ego here when he sank the puck into the net that last time.” Luke grins, throwing his arm around my shoulder and jostling me as we step out of the state-of-the-art arena. It’s snowing again, white flurries catching in my hair.
I roll my eyes at Luke. “As if you didn’t get those two first ones on your own.”
“I’m glad you remember I still hold the record.” Fucker. I push him off me hard enough to make him stagger a little, dress shoes gliding over smooth snow. He catches himself with ease, his head tipping back as he lets out a deep laugh.
Then he spins so he’s walking backward, hands rubbing together. “All right, who is going to be my wingman tonight? Any takers?”
Aiden groans. “Don’t look at me. I still haven’t recovered from the last time.”
“What? Those girls were all over you, man.”
“Exactly,” he grumbles.
Luke shakes his head, brow furrowing. “I don’t get you.”
“Good.” Aiden is an enigma. I think girls secretly like that.
They always seem to be fawning over him.
Maybe it’s the thought of unleashing all that pent-up goalie anger that has them intrigued.
I shudder at the thought. Yeah, definitely staying clear of that one.
Rule number one: never piss off your goalie.
Tanner once asked him if he had taken a vow of celibacy, and the only response he got was a solid slap to the back of his head. I’m not sure if that was the answer he was looking for, but he’s kept clear of Aiden since, so I guess it worked.
Tanner and Ollie share a taxi to the bar, while the rest of us pile into Finn’s car—Luke in the passenger seat, and Aiden and I at the back.
We run through game highlights while Finn drives us across campus.
Aiden’s contributions mostly consist of grunts and grumbles.
I’m finding it hard to concentrate too—anticipation humming across my skin, my fingers tapping against my thigh to try to release some of the pent-up energy coursing through me.
I try to tell myself it has nothing to do with a certain blonde, but truth is I’m itching to see if she’ll be there. I’m not stupid; I know she’s been avoiding me, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s scurried back home to hide.
Tipsy’s is packed by the time we get there—it’s a sea of Southbay blue. Those closest to the door cheer when we enter. It’s an effort to push our way through the crowd, with everyone trying to grab our attention.
The guys head straight to the bar to grab our drinks, while I push my way to our usual table at the back, on a mission to secure our seats before the rest of the team shows up.
Half of them are already squeezed in around three round tables, laughing and yelling at each other to be heard.
But it’s Daisy who draws my attention when I drop into the chair on the other end of the table from her.
She’s got her hair pulled back in a braid, little flyaways framing her face like a halo. Her cheeks are already flushed—no doubt the effects of alcohol if she spent the game hanging out with the girls.
Her lips split on a beaming smile and it lights up her whole face. So, this is how she looks when she’s not spitting fire at me.
She tips her head toward Lauren, the two of them whispering conspiratorially. I consider moving closer so I can eavesdrop, but then Griffin slings an arm over my shoulder and my attention snaps back to the right winger.
“About time you showed up.” He grins.
“Take it up with Finn.” I snort, eliciting a laugh from Griff.
Finn is notorious for his safety obsession. He used to be a bit of a wild child, until he met Vanessa. Now we’re lucky if he’s out with us past midnight and not rushing home to her. I can’t blame him. If you have something that good, you keep it close.
“I swear, you could put a rocket up his ass and he would still move at a snail’s pace,” Griffin jokes as Luke drops down in the chair next to me and slides a beer my way.
I take a deep pull of it, needing something to tamp down the energy coursing beneath my skin. It’s dangerous—my post-game high has a way of making me do stupid things.
I wonder how long it’s going to take for her to notice I’m here.
She’s not stupid. She’s sat at a table with my teammates, so she knew I would be here. And unless Lauren has her shackled to her chair, she came here voluntarily.
Still, her eyes widen in surprise when she finally looks up and finds me staring at her. The green in them is electric in the dim light. I tip my beer at her and chuckle, and she snaps her eyes away from me at the speed of light.
Just then, Ollie appears from out of the blue. He drops down in the chair between the girls, one arm stretching across the back of Lauren’s chair and a crooked smile aimed at Daisy. “Who’s your friend, Laur?”
Lauren glances my way, mirth brimming in her eyes. “Why don’t you ask Connor?”
Ollie’s head whips between me and the pretty blonde who still hasn’t looked back up at me. She keeps her head held high, pretending to study the neon sign on the wall beside her even as the color in her cheeks deepens. “Oh shit, you’re the roommate.”
She snorts. “Not by choice.”
“If you’re looking for a new place, you can always move in with me. My bed is very comfy,” Ollie offers, swinging an arm around her shoulder and tugging her into his side.
I take another sip of my beer, watching her laugh at one of my best friends and wondering what it would take to get her laughing at me like that.