27. Dylan #2
Behind us, Ethan coughs, a hacking noise like he’s just swallowed a fly.
Wide-eyed, I snap my head back toward him at the same time Wren does, but he waves us away. Maybe he really did choke on a bug or something.
I frown but force myself to ignore him. Wren and I bring our heads closer together so we can keep our conversation between us.
She’s beaming like she just won a Golden Globe. “Three out of four? Damn, Dylan. Let me guess…” She taps her finger against her chin. “Griffin, definitely. The way that man looks at you, I’m surprised he hasn’t already hauled you off to his cave and claimed you as his own.”
Her words are startlingly close to the truth. Instead of a cave, it was the gym, but Griffin has made a claiming that I have yet to acknowledge or really think too deeply about, because I have absolutely no idea what the hell to do with that information.
She side-eyes me, and I nod my confirmation.
“Finn?” she guesses next, surprising me.
“How did you guess? ”
She chuckles. “He has this permanent hate to want you scowl in place any time you’re around.”
“Gee, thanks,” I droll. “Talk about flattering.”
She waves away my dramatics. “It’s a process. I’m sure he will get there in the end.”
The question is, do I want him to get there? What do I want from Finn? From any of them?
“As for guy number three.” She hums, eyes flicking between me and Ethan as she debates. “Jax or Ethan…” She trails off. Then, after another glance at Ethan—who seems to be making a point of looking anywhere but at us, but I swear I can feel his attention on my back—she smirks. “Ethan.”
I bark out a laugh. “Wrong.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Really?” She sounds shocked. “Because given that lovers’ quarrel I walked into back there, I’d bet my tuition I’m right.”
I shake my head. “You’re totally misreading that. Ethan is just protective. I’m a Steelhawk, and he feels responsible for every player on the team.”
Wren gives me a look . “Uh-huh. Sure. And that’s why he’s staring at you like he’s debating throwing you over his shoulder and running off into the woods.”
I scoff. “You’ve got it all wrong. He’s the captain. It’s his job to make sure I’m okay. He was basically ordered to by Coach. That’s it. Nothing more.”
Wren scans my face before she smirks wickedly. “But you want there to be something more.”
“What— I— No,” I splutter, before sighing.
“I’m not supposed to want anything with any of them.
They’re my teammates. My roommates ,” I spell out—for her benefit as well as my own.
And yet, you keep kissing one, you let the other feel you up at every opportunity, and the third is getting you off in the gym.
Jesus, when did my life become such a mess?
“So, who was the best kisser?” Wren wags her eyebrows suggestively.
I snort, shaking my head and refusing to answer. I’m thankful when we reach the cafeteria, although I admit I feel lighter for sharing that with her. Even if it hasn’t done much to unjumble my chaotic thoughts when it comes to the guys.
Wren pulls open the cafeteria door, stepping inside. I move to follow, but Ethan’s hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me back.
I turn, glancing down at where his fingers have a firm yet gentle grip on me, noting the buzzing beneath my skin. Slowly, I lift my gaze to meet his. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock on mine as he steps closer. Too close, until the warmth of his body is pressing into mine.
Lowering his head, his breath brushes my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Careful, Dylan. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
His words are a caress across my skin. A taunt. A warning, but for me or for himself, I’m not sure. Does this mean he heard my conversation with Wren? Does he know I’ve kissed three of his friends—his teammates? Do I want him to?
He lingers a moment longer, his lips ghosting over my jaw, just barely, before he releases me and steps back.
His eyes continue to hold mine captive as he reaches above my head to grab ahold of the door to the cafeteria and keep it open, and his voice is an octave deeper than normal as he gestures inside. “After you.”
Stepping into the room, he follows behind, the heat of his body warm at my back and his palm pressing possessively against the base of my spine as he directs me toward the table of loud, raucous hockey players in the middle of the room.
Conversation dulls as we approach, nerves fluttering in my belly. Some of the guys shoot me glances, a few offering quick nods or murmured greetings, but the atmosphere feels different. Heavier.
Ethan directs me to a free seat beside Jax, before sitting beside me and leaving Wren to sit opposite.
“Hey,” Noah greets as I lower myself into the seat, careful not to jostle my sore ribs. “It sucked not having you on the ice this morning.”
“Yeah, we were worried when we heard what happened to you,” Tyler, the second-line center, adds with a friendly smile.
“Seriously,” Marcus, a first-line defenseman alongside Jax, nods. “Shit’s fucked. It’s good to see you didn’t let it get you down.”
Others echo the sentiment, and I give the table my best attempt at a smile. “Thanks.”
“Did you see who it was?” Ben, our third-line goalie, asks me.
I hesitate, fingers curling into a fist in my lap. Kyle’s gaze burns into me, like a brand being seared into the side of my head. I swallow, keeping my expression neutral. “Not really. It was dark, and they wore hoods.”
“Cowards,” one of the other guys spits, shaking his head. “Ganging up on someone—a girl, no less—alone and in the dark. That’s weak as shit.”
Several others murmur their agreement, and my gaze inadvertently flicks to Kyle in time to catch the thinning of his lips, how his eyebrows draw low over his eyes. He’s pissed. Because his teammates essentially called him a coward, or because they are actually bothered that I was attacked?
“I hope campus security is stepping up after this,” Marcus states, lips pressed into a firm line. “My sister is a freshman here. I’d hate to think something like this could happen to her.”
“It was hopefully just a one-time thing.” I don’t want him to worry about his sister, especially since, unless she plans on joining the men’s hockey team, she won’t be a target.
“What if they try it again?” someone farther down the table asks.
A shiver goes through me at the notion of being in that situation again. Scared, helpless, trapped.
A growl rumbles through Jax’s chest, his hands forming fists on the table beside me.
“They won’t get the chance.” Ethan’s voice is cold, edged with a warning as he surveys the rest of the team. “We look after our own.”
“For real.” Noah nods, face lined with determination, like Ethan is imparting once-in-a-lifetime wisdom.
“You let us know if you need anything.” His gaze is set on Ethan, but then it slides to mine, and he flashes me a warm smile while other players vocalize their agreement.
Their ease to help chokes me up. A few weeks ago, most of these guys would probably have rejoiced at me being unable to play, and now they’re offering to help however they can. I don’t have words.
Thankfully, Ethan jumps in to save me. “Thanks, guys. We’re working on a schedule so Dylan isn’t alone on campus or at the arena. I think we have it covered, but if we run into any issues, we’ll let you know.”
The guys all respond to their captain with eager nods and words of affirmation.
Kyle pipes up for the first time since I sat down. “Come on,” he scoffs. “It was a random attack. Everyone’s acting like she was personally victimized.”
The air shifts. Finn stares at Kyle, like he can’t believe what just came out of his mouth. “Dude, that’s cold. Regardless of whether it was a one-off or not, s he was attacked .”
Kyle shrugs, tearing a bite off his sandwich. “I just think it sounds like a bigger deal is being made of it than necessary. ”
Griffin, who has strategically placed himself where he has an unobstructed view of where I’m sitting and also a clear line of sight to Kyle, Fletcher, and Monroe, leans forward.
His stare sharpens, eyes locked on to Kyle like he’s peeling back layers, looking for what’s underneath.
“Who’s to say she isn’t being targeted?”
Tension thrums through the table like a live wire, some of the guys exchanging confused and wary glances.
“How the hell would I know?” is Kyle’s blasé response before he goes back to his food.
“Shit, you think one of our fans could have targeted her for being on the team?” another player directs to Griffin.
His response is to shrug. “Anything is possible.”
Conversation shifts after that ominous response, but I’m not really listening.
“Here.” I glance up as a tray of food is placed in front of me, but it’s not the delightful smell that has my mouth dropping open. It’s the person handing it to me. Finn. Finn got me food. “You need to keep your energy up.”
“T-thanks.”
He nods before sauntering back to where he was sitting.
There’s a severe look of consternation on his face as he picks at his plate, his gaze occasionally flicking up to Kyle.
He doesn’t engage in conversation with him the way he typically does at lunch, and I notice there is no puck bunny trying to climb into his lap today.
While it’s strange and a little sad not to see him being his typical charismatic, happy-go-lucky self, a tiny, minuscule part of me is glad he’s starting to question things.
And the jealous witch inside of me preens at the lack of a puck bunny at his side.
Although I shut her up real quick. I may be starting to see that I can trust these guys, that I’m not hated here the way I was at NSU, but that doesn’t mean I can allow myself to fall for any of them.
They are still my teammates, maybe even my friends, and we have a long way to go to the championships.
The last thing I want to do is fuck everything up by letting feelings or sex get in the way.
As I return my attention to my tray in front of me, I catch Wren’s gaze from across the table. She arches a brow, her lips quirking in a smirk. Plot thickens, she mouths. I shake my head, ignoring her as I dive into my food.