“It sounds amazing, Mia, but the internship is crazy busy, and we’re not even halfway through the season, not to mention the semester. My schedule’s insane. I know I like to bite off more than I can chew but…” I shake my head. “I don’t want to let Fen down. I’m sorry.”
“You sure?”
I sigh. “Yeah. I don’t have enough time in the day. I really am sorry, though.”
“It’s okay,” she concedes. “Figured I’d ask. Door’s always open,” she adds. “Like seriously. You’d be a perfect fit. Come on. Let’s go to bed. I need sleep, and so do you.”
Even though I know sleep won’t be happening for me tonight, I let Mia off the hook. I stand up, head toward the kitchen, put my mug in the sink, and go to my room. All the while, I ignore the memory of tonight while knowing it’ll tease me for the rest of my life.
Then again, it’s Theodore Taylor.
The guy’s been teasing me since grade school.
What else is new?
20
THEO
The locker room is louder than usual. Or maybe it’s my imagination. I guess I could always blame my splitting headache. My skull has been pounding ever since Blake walked out the door after we had sex. I’ve tried texting, but she hasn’t responded. I even called once, but it went straight to voicemail. Not that I would’ve known what to say if she’d picked up, but I still feel off. Guilty. Like I took something that didn’t belong to me. But would I take it back––would I not touch her again––if given the chance?
Fuck, no.
She’s been running through my thoughts on a constant loop––has been for years––but after sleeping with her, it’s been even worse. Like she’s haunting me. Taunting me. Wracking at my guilt. Tainting even the smallest things. Like breakfast––I started craving Cinnamon Toast Crunch this morning. Or the gym––I decided to run on the treadmill instead of hitting up the weight machine because the girl’s a sucker for jogging. Even SeaBird’s tainted. I don’t wanna go in because I know she won’t be there.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I want to know how she’s doing. I want to talk to her. Ask about her day. If she hates me. If she thinks about me the same way I think about her.
But I can’t do anything because she left. She fucking flew out of the house like a bat out of hell after we had sex, and if that isn’t a sucker punch to the nuts, I don’t know what is.
Today’s the first day I’ll see her, and I’ve been anxious to find out if she’ll actually show up to shadow Russ at the game or if she’ll call in sick or something. If she weren’t such a determined little shit, I wouldn’t put it past her. But there’s a reason she earned her internship. When she wants something, she gets it. Regardless of the obstacles, such as running into me, she fights for the things she wants. And this internship? She wants it more than anything. Of that, I have no doubt.
I scan the unread messages from me to her again.
Me: Hey. Did you get home okay?
Me: Hey. You ran off pretty quick the other night. You doing okay?
Me: Hey. Cinnamon bears are on sale at the store. Want me to grab you a bag?
Nothing.
No response.
No, I’m good. Thanks, though.
Nadda.
It’s driving me insane.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Blake. Not right now. Not in the locker room before a big game. I should be getting ready. I should be focusing on the plays we’ve been working on or the offers buzzing around the locker room for all the seniors, Colt and me included. But instead, I’m distracted. So fucking distracted.
As I shove my phone back into the locker and grab my gloves, Austin slaps ten crisp hundred dollar bills against my chest.
“Congrats, man. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”
I look down at the cash, acid pooling in the back of my throat.
Resting his shoulder against the locker next to mine, Austin adds, “Burrows doesn’t think you should get it because of how things went down, but the rest of us agree. You might’ve played dirty, but you earned it fair and square.”
“What the hell?” Colt’s locker is on the opposite side and he slaps it closed, eyeing the cash like it’s foreign currency instead of US certified hundred dollar bills. “How come I don’t get any, Rookie?” he asks Austin.
Austin snorts, but I glare at him, then turn to Colt and search for an explanation.
How the hell am I supposed to explain this to him? That I slept with his little sister. That the team had a bet to see who could do it first.
This is so messed up.
But it’s not like I’m gonna lie to him. We’re brothers. We don’t have secrets.
Scratching my jaw, I choose my words carefully, all too aware of how quiet the room has become, but I don’t acknowledge it.
“So, listen,” I start. “There was a fucked-up bet going on––”
“And Theo won,” Austin finishes for me. He slaps my shoulder like we’re best buds. “We didn’t think he had it in him.”
My hands clench at my sides, throttling my hockey gloves while imagining they’re Austin’s throat.
“What kind of bet?” Colt’s attention shifts from me, to Austin, to the rest of the team in the locker room. They’re silent. Staring at us. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and an ominous feeling gathers like static electricity. All it will take is a catalyst to set it off, and I’m fucked.
Most of us are already suited up and ready to get on the ice. Some of the guys had been chatting amongst themselves, but as soon as Austin handed me the cash, their conversations stopped. Because they knew as well as I did how it would open a can of worms.
Logan smirks in the corner and makes a smartass comment to Graves, though it’s too low for me to hear what it is. He probably paid Austin to come over in front of Colt to stir up shit. Not that it matters. Clearly, it worked.
Now, everyone is watching Colt. Because everyone knows he was out of town last weekend. And they also know he had no idea about the bet or his little sister’s part in any of it.
I’d hoped I could sweep what happened with Blake under the rug since Colt had been out of town––or at least until I was ready to tell him––but apparently, fate hates me even more than normal.
And I think Colt can feel it too.
“What kind of bet?” Colt repeats, an edge to his voice.
Austin’s eyes are wide, but he doesn’t answer Colt. He turns to me, looking like a deer in the headlights. Apparently, Austin does have a sense of self-preservation after all.
“I, uh,” Austin clears his throat. “I should probably get my head in the game…” He books it back to his locker on the opposite side of the room.
Colt isn’t an idiot, though. His eyes glaze with scrutiny as he scans the room, assessing everyone’s expressions like a seasoned detective. Like he knows he’s being left in the dark on purpose.
“What’s going on?” he demands in the otherwise silent locker room.
Another beat of silence passes, then Logan chirps, “Oh, no one’s told you?” He slides his hands into his gloves, sitting on the bench in front of his locker.