Chapter 17
The second we hit the locker room, Greyson announced the party at our place. Before I could think about any kind of celebration, I showered, changed, and headed out to find her. The reason for tonight’s win.
Because it sure as fuck wasn’t me.
It was the girl who keeps surprising me.
The house is already packed by the time we climb the front steps, music thumping through the walls. Laughter spilling into the front yard.
“Okay,” Tisch says, glancing back at Isla with a promising smile. “This is already way cooler than anything I went to at Highland.”
She’s holding Isla’s hand like she’s expecting her to bolt.
Honestly... so am I.
As if on cue, Isla slows three steps from the door. “Tisch, you go ahead. I...” she exhales. “This… really isn’t my scene.”
“Heck no.” Tisch shakes her head. “We came together, we leave together. We’ve only known each other like, what, four hours? But pretty sure that’s how friendships work.”
I laugh under my breath as I step around them, pushing the front door open.
A few heads turn our way but I ignore them.
Instead, I face the girls and look to where their hands are connected.
I lift my gaze to Isla’s. There’s no way I’m letting her walk through this without her hand in mine. “Mind if I take it from here?”
Tisch studies me for exactly one second, then looks at Isla, who offers a quick nod.
“Twenty minutes,” I tell her quietly, taking her icy cold hand. “You don’t have to talk to anyone. We’ll stay away from the crowd.”
She exhales. “Twenty minutes.”
“Besides, Hunter hates house parties. Give it an hour and he’ll drag everyone to Jackson’s parents’ place or the bar down the street.” My fingers tighten around hers just enough for her to notice. “But I’m not celebrating without you.”
Her eyes search mine before flicking toward the room. “Everyone will see you with me...” she says softly and I can hear the panic behind it. “They’ll know.”
I look over her shoulder and decide to take a page out of their book. “Tisch?” I lift my jacket in question.
“And if I don’t?”
For a second, I consider a light threat exposing her last name to everyone here. But I don’t want to give Isla the impression that I’m evil.
Plus, I’m pretty sure Tisch would call my bluff.
Before I can come up with something, Isla turns to her and Tisch’s shoulders slump. “Ugh. Fine.” She snatches the jacket and slips it on to throw everyone off, then leans forward to Isla. “Don’t let this be in vain.”
I don’t know if I can get on board with this whole being friends with a McKenna thing, but I like how protective she is of Isla.
She points a finger at me in warning that she’ll be watching me and disappears into the crowd.
Isla looks at the door, like she’s already calculating the quickest exit.
I could tell her we’ll leave the second she asks. But I wonder what it would take for her to stop looking for an escape.
Because every time I think I’ve figured her out, she surprises me again.
And I’m starting to think the real Isla is the one she lets slip out for a few seconds at a time when she’s protected behind a username.
I quirk a smile at Kane like I’m totally chill as we walk through the crowd, but secretly, I’m praying he doesn’t plan on letting go of my hand. Not that I think I’ll be tossed into a mosh pit the second he does, but he’s almost like the anchor I need.
I’ve gone to parties.
Two, exactly. At my old school. The first lasted all of fifteen minutes before the noise swallowed every coherent thought in my head and I slipped out without anyone noticing.
The second wasn’t much better. I went with a friend, so I couldn’t bail, and spent most of the night pretending to text in the hallway, counting down the minutes until it was a reasonable time to leave. Then I couldn’t find her. In fact, I’m pretty sure she forgot she came with me.
It’s why I didn’t want to pressure Tisch to leave with me if she wanted to stay. I’m the kind of misery who doesn’t love company.
I hate parties. Everything is a competition. Who can laugh the hardest. Make the most jokes. Be the life of the party. And drink to the point of stupidity.
And then…you become the odd man out. The one who isn’t drinking every shot handed out. The one who isn’t laughing at dumb jokes. The one who looks like the kid sister they had to bring with them.
Kane leans into me and God he smells good, like fresh soap with a splash of victory, and it makes me hot knowing I helped him get there. Feel this good. Even if I know it was all him.
Tonight was different. It was the first time he saw me in the crowd. He never hearted my message. But he didn’t have to. He sought me out. And looked me in the eyes with his reply.
A question lingers on the tip of my tongue, and I bite my bottom lip as my stomach flips.
“So, when’s the part where you tell me it’s quieter upstairs and suddenly, we’re in your room and you cash in your winnings?”
I can feel the blush creeping into my cheeks as I ask. Apparently, spending a few hours with Tisch makes me think I carry the same fearless energy she pours out into the world.
A laugh barks out of him. “Cash in my winnings?” He leans into me. “You really are full of surprises, Sunshine.”
“Tell me that’s not why you tracked me down tonight and invited me here.” It doesn’t come out as an accusation. It’s more of a challenge. A dare, maybe? And okay…the fact that it slipped out surprises me too.
He looks over my shoulder and leans in, his voice low. “Baby, if I were to cash in, I’d start from the very beginning.”
I draw back to look at him.
A burly blonde slings an arm around Kane’s shoulders. Definitely a hockey player. “There he is! The guy who spent almost two fucking periods convincing us he was about to let the Titans get the better of him.”
Kane holds my gaze. “Guess something just hit me.”
The guy looks at me, a smile creeping onto his face. “Oh, is this that something?”
I blink away, turning to Greyson Knox, also known as number twenty-two, the goalie. I’ve memorized the players. I don’t know why, or when. Could have been all the time I spent stalking the team page.
“What? N—no. I had nothing to do with the win. I—”
Kane pulls the guy’s jersey from behind, moving him a good two feet from me. “Lay off, Grey. This is Isla. My friend.”
Grey grins at me, then looks at Kane. “Then who’s the redhead wearing your jacket?”
“Why don’t you go ask her,” Kane tells him with a warning undertone.
Greyson nods once and slaps Kane’s shoulder. “How about I just make myself scarce and you two go about your business.”
“Good idea.”
“Isla.” Greyson gives me a cute head bow before leaving us and it makes me chuckle.
Kane steps in front of me and cocks his head. “Now back to my super-apparent ulterior motive.”
“Yeah, um, forget I said that?” I wince.
“Are you kidding?” he gives a dry laugh then cuts off when more laughter comes from behind me.
A warm hand slides around my waist.
Before I can even process what’s happening, Kane pulls me into him. Two guys barrel past, shoving each other as they go. One of them stumbles right through the space I’d been standing.
I huff out a breath, like I could picture the pancake I almost turned into on this tile floor right now.
My head’s turned toward the noise, but my hand…somehow ends up on Kane’s chest.
I should feel hyper aware of how close I am to him. So close he could read my thoughts. Instead, I’m zeroing in on the rise and fall of his breathing beneath my fingertips.
“You okay?” he asks, looking down at me.
I nod too fast and attempt to step back, but he keeps me pressed against him. His thumb brushes lightly against my side before checking the space around us and letting go.
It’s embarrassing how much I want another near-death experience just for him to pull me back against his chest.
“Uh, thanks, I don’t suppose we came in here for a drink?”
“We did.” He quirks his brow. “But first, can you give me the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed that more than you wanted to?”
My cheeks heat and my chest tightens with annoyance. “I didn’t—okay, so what if I did? You’re a guy.” I focus on his forearms to avoid his eyes. “Probably with the same kind of biceps I’d want in a guy so…it was circumstantial. Not attraction. There’s a difference, hotshot.”
“Hotshot? When did I go from Dark Knight to Hotshot? You gotta stop sending mixed signals, Sunshine.”
“It’s Shadow,” I mutter, lifting on my toes so only he hears me.
“Not to me.” He keeps a hand at my lower back, supporting me, as his eyes drop to my lips.
I feel dizzy enough to let him hold me just like this.
But when his eyes snap around us, he eases me back.
“Okay. A drink.” He shifts toward the cooler on the counter.
“What’ll it be? We’ve got three, no, four different kinds of beer.
All cans because I don’t want to lose a toe in the morning.
” He moves over to the punchbowl. “I…don’t know what that is, so we’ll pass and… bottled water.”
“I’ll take a beer. But you pick.”
He nods once and lifts a pale ale for me. “This one’s got an orange hint to it. The girls tend to like it.”
I frown as it lands in my hand. Then shove it back in his. “Give me something else.”
“What?”
“Something else.”
He smirks and takes it back. “You got a problem with orange?”
“I don’t want the one you assumed I’d like.”
His face sobers momentarily and for the first time since we walked in, he doesn’t have a comeback.
Instead, he studies me, one corner of his mouth tugging into that familiar grin. He hums low. “Huh.”
“What?” I pry, which is unlike me.
“I thought orange was the safe bet.”
“It probably is.”
“But not for you?” It’s barely posed as a question.
“Correct.”
“Is it because I inadvertently compared you to other girls?”
“Big word for a hotshot,” I deadpan.
“Okay.” He digs around in the cooler again, lifting another can, examining it, then dropping it back in. “No more assumptions.” He moves to the fridge and pulls out two bottles. Each a Miller Lite. “My personal stash.”
I take one tentatively. “It’s glass.”