12. Dylan #2
Half blind, I stumble through the house and out the front door, practically falling into the street. People mill about, wandering between house parties, oblivious to the wreckage inside, but it’s quieter out here than the backyard.
I suck in lungfuls of air, my vision still spotty, and as I fumble to pull my phone from my back pocket, I realize my hands are trembling. I stare at them for a long moment before shifting my focus to the black screen.
Then, I call the only number I can think of.
“I swear to God, Dylan,” Wren fumes, waving her arms around as she marches back and forth in front of the sofa I’m curled up on.
She was the only person I could think of to call—the only BSU student I know and trust enough to consider a friend.
Being the awesome person that she is, she immediately told me to come over.
I’d expected her to give me a dorm name and room number, but it turns out Wren lives alone in a tiny apartment tucked in the heart of Blackstone, on a quiet street lined with cobblestones and tall stone buildings.
Independent bookshops and cozy little cafés press in around her building like something out of a postcard.
It’s the kind of place that feels removed from everything, like the rest of the world can’t quite reach it.
If only that were true.
My knees are pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped around them, with my chin resting on top as I watch her fume.
“If I ever see that asshole, I’m going to—” She breaks off, fists clenched and practically vibrating with rage.
“No. You know what? I am going to see him. I’m going to hunt his sorry ass down, and I’ll—I don’t know—slash his tires?
Superglue his helmet to his head? Shove a stick so far up his ass he whistles through his teeth? ”
Despite everything, a laugh escapes me—weak, but real. “I think that last one might be a felony.”
She stops pacing, rounding on me with wide, furious eyes. “Don’t laugh! He humiliated you in front of everyone. If you think I’m letting him get away with this?— ”
“I know,” I interject, voice pathetically defeated. “I was there, remember?” Shaking my head, I force strength into my next words. “It’s fine,” I tell her. God, how I wish I believed that . “It’s not like there’s any proof.”
Except they didn’t need proof last time, either.
“Exactly!” Wren points at me like I’ve made a groundbreaking discovery. “There’s no proof. When people realize that, they’ll get bored and move on to the next bit of hot goss.”
My nose scrunches, lips pressed flat as I stare intently at my knees.
Wren must catch my look of skepticism. “Unless…” she hedges. “Oh my God. Did you—did you sleep with the coach?!”
My head whips up so fast I feel something twinge in my neck. “What? No. NO! Of course not!” I look at her with such horror and revulsion that she takes a small step back.
“Okay, okay.” She holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Just checking. But then, what was that face about?”
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, my gaze jumps back and forth between her eyes.
“I’ve…lived through this before,” I confess. When her brows dip lower over her eyes, I explain, “The same rumor was started at my old school.”
Her mouth drops open.
I shake my head, a fresh wave of tears burning the backs of my eyes.
“Why do men do this? A woman does better than them, and they automatically assume we must be sleeping our way to the top. It’s…
infuriating.” It’s so much more than that.
I feel so much that I can’t even put it into words. Anger. Resentment. Hurt. Exhaustion.
I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of working my hardest, doing my best, and being told my achievements are only possible because I must have spread my legs for the right person.
“It’s disgusting,” Wren spits. “Pathetic. Weak.” Dropping onto the sofa beside me, she moves straight into my space, cuddling up beside me.
Feeling completely defeated, I sigh, leaning into her. I always have some fight left in me, even when I’ve had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find it, but now…I’m empty.
“I feel like I’m having déjà vu,” I admit in a small voice that sounds nothing like me. “I’m in my own version of Groundhog Day , doomed to repeat the same fragile male masculinity bullshit over and over until I lose my mind.”
Wren shifts on the sofa so I can see her face, see the determination etched into her expression. “Those lies say more about them than they do about you.”
I snort. “Tell that to the rest of NSU who believed their bullshit and taunted me with it at every opportunity.”
Squeezing my arm, she says empathically, “But you know the truth. And your skills on the ice speak for themselves.”
I nod. I know she’s right, to an extent. But rumors matter—false or not.
“If scouts or teams got wind of any of it, I’d never get drafted. I could lose any opportunity I have to play professionally. At even working?—”
“Hey!” Wren cuts off my ramble. “Let’s not spiral out of control, yeah? This is a stupid college rumor spread at a party. Most of the people there were drinking and probably don’t even remember who they hooked up with, never mind what one douche canoe said.”
One side of my lips quirks in the shadow of a smile. Still, I shake my head. “What if this is only the beginning— again ? It only got worse last time until I was forced to leave?—”
“Stop!” Wren says firmly, holding up a hand. “That’s not going to happen. You know why?”
There’s such determination on her face, such fire in her eyes.
I shake my head, biting my lip.
“Because this time, you have me.”
She sits up straighter, and I don’t know if it’s her simple statement or the confidence in her posture, but the weight of it hits me like a slap. I’ve never had anyone before. Not someone I could actually talk to or confide in. Someone who would have my back.
Leaning in, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Thank you,” I murmur into her ear.
“Good, now that that’s settled, we need hot chocolate.”
“We do?”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Duh. Hot chocolate fixes boy trouble like ice cream fixes cramps.”
I snort, watching as she moves over to her tiny kitchen, pulling mugs down from the shelf and lifting out the cocoa powder. Blowing out a breath, some of the tension eases from my shoulders as I sink deeper into her old, cozy sofa.
Wren’s apartment has an open-plan kitchen and living area, with a door off it for the bathroom and another one that leads to her bedroom.
The place is furnished with mismatched furniture that should look odd but somehow works.
It’s very…Wren. Large windows flood the space with sunlight during the day, and now, as I stare out, I catch the warm glow of apartments across the street and the shimmer of the town beyond.
“Here you go,” she says, handing me a large mug. It’s overflowing with whipped cream and marshmallows, steam billowing off the top.
I nurse it as she gets comfortable beside me, throwing a blanket over us. She has several lamps on around the room, bathing it in a soft, warm glow that casts shadows along the walls. It’s cozy, peaceful. Exactly what I needed after tonight.
“I think Griffin stood up for me tonight.” I’m not sure I intended to say those words aloud. I hadn’t actually given him a second thought until just now.
Lowering her mug, cream lines her upper lip, creating a comical moustache as Wren gapes wide-eyed at me.
“Griffin?” She clarifies, “Griffin Price, the Steelhawks’ starting goalie and best in the conference?”
I nod. “That’s the one.”
“And you’re only telling me this now?!” She leans forward so abruptly that she nearly spills her hot chocolate.
“I’d forgotten,” I admit, chagrined.
“You forgot that Griffin Price stood up to your archnemesis.” She shakes her head, turning to look at…absolutely nothing. “What are we going to do with her? She’s completely hopeless!”
Barking a laugh, I question, “ Who are you talking to?”
She simply waves me away. “ That is not what’s important right now.
Tell me everything . Don’t spare a single detail.
What was he wearing? How hot did he look?
” She clutches a cushion to her chest and sighs dramatically.
“Griffin has that whole charming-on-the-surface, danger-underneath thing going for him—the kind of guy who smiles just enough to distract you from the fact he might ruin your life.”
I know. Believe me, I know.
And after tonight, I think I’m past the point of distraction.
Her gaze meets mine, a smirk tilting her lips. “I don’t think I’d mind being ruined by Griffin Price.”
Girl, I don’t think I would either!
She playfully slaps my leg when I don’t immediately jump into regaling her with every detail. Just to tease her, I lift my mug to my lips first, taking a long gulp as the rich chocolate glides over my tongue.
Okay, yeah. That’s amazing. I’m now a firm believer that any life crisis requires hot chocolate.
“He was with me when Kyle stormed outside,” I eventually share with her.
“Wait, he was already with you?” she interrupts, eyes wide. “As in, already talking to you, or you happened to be standing beside one another, but he was in a conversation with someone else and had no idea you were there?”
“We were talking?—”
“Oh my God! You were talking to Griffin Price.”
“If you keep interrupting me, I’m not telling you what happened.”
Huffing, she mimes zipping her lips before gesturing for me to continue.
I smirk at her, but I do admit that when Kyle threatened me, Griffin stepped in and threatened him right back.
“That is so hot,” Wren states in a dreamy voice before straightening. “Wait, does this mean he likes you?”
“What?” I question, startled by her conclusion. “No. Of course not. It means he recognizes my talent and wasn’t going to let Kyle steamroll me.”
“Hmm, I’m not so sure.” The certainty behind her tone has me scoffing and rolling my eyes at the extent of her delusion.
“It didn’t mean anything,” I tell her. “He was just…”
“Just what?” she interrupts, tilting her head to one side and studying me closely.
“Being a decent human being?” she muses, clearly not needing any actual input from me.
“Maybe. But also, he didn’t have to. In fact, from what I’ve heard of Griffin, he doesn’t make a point of inserting himself anywhere he doesn’t want to be. And yet, he chose to stick up for you.”
Before I can get a word in, she keeps going.
“More than that, he did it in front of the entire team. Kyle might have spouted off bullshit rumors, but the whole team also saw Griffin take your side. Griffin’s respected amongst all of them. If he’s got your back, that counts for something. ”
I pause, letting her words sink in. She’s not wrong. Griffin is respected amongst the team. And they all saw him take my side over Kyle’s.
I’m just not entirely sure what that means—or if it’s good or bad for me.
Shifting beside me, Wren grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns on the TV, flicking through the channels until she lands on a rom-com.
I’m only half watching, but by the time we’re halfway through it, the knot in my chest has loosened.
We end up falling asleep on the sofa, her head on my shoulder, the movie credits rolling. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel just a little less alone.