3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cody

“There he is!”

The living room explodes into cheers. You would think I am a long-lost soldier coming back from war, not an injured defenseman who participated in the sprint workout last week.

A lopsided orange banner hangs from a pock-marked kitchen table, and if the tedious swinging is anything to go by, the duct tape holding it in place was hastily put on just seconds before I stepped through Mason’s front door.

Laughter bubbles up in my throat as I read the shaky black bubble letters decorating the sign in our school colours: Let Cap’s Alcohol Recovery Begin!

Side hugs and back claps pull me farther into the room as familiar and unfamiliar faces swarm before me. Mason’s living room is bigger than mine, but not enough to accommodate the number of people here tonight.

Taber is well-known for its small-town parties but not so much for its studious students.

Squeezing my way through the crowd, I make it to the kitchen, being careful to step around the banner made in my honour. I head straight for the stack of red solo cups sitting next to the keg and grab one just as a familiar voice rings in my ear.

“Heard Hunter took you for quite the spin last week.” Waiting for my turn at the keg, I turn to see Taber’s freshman goalie, Nico Montez grinning back at me.

I sigh in good nature, “And here I thought my players would wait at least two weeks before they brought up my embarrassment.”

Nico laughs, the dark scruff on his jaw a stark contrast to the glistening teeth beneath, “You have too high of expectations, Cap. You should know by now no one takes the piss better than Tigers.”

A smile tugs my lips, and I raise my glass in acknowledgement. With a smirk, Nico mimics the motion, tapping his plastic cup against my empty one, “We all need to be remembered for something, Cap.”

Stifling a groan, I keep my smile in place as I take my turn at the keg. Besides my spectacular sprint letdown, the only other memorable thing I’ve done as captain is taken a beating during our season opener with Taber’s rivals, Silverwood Sabers.

Our team had done well up until the last quarter, but the moment I’d pushed Hunter out of the way and gotten rundown by Vector Vin, it was all over. My team had refused to continue playing after I was shipped off to the hospital, so we had scheduled a rematch for the following weekend.

And Taber’s champion lacrosse team had lost.

Badly.

Having been undefeated champions for five years in a row, the team had taken the hit hard, and it didn’t help that I couldn’t participate in practices until just recently. It took all of us two minutes to realize that being a captain from the sidelines was equivalent to being a lifeguard at the Olympics. Absolutely useless.

“Are you looking forward to the break?” Shuffling over to the tall Latino, I press my back into the shabby-looking pantry door as more people funnel into the kitchen for refills. Mason’s place might look like a nice starter home on the outside, but on the inside, years of use have stripped it down to something that looks like a show home for tight student budgets.

My question sparks a bright smile to light up Nico’s face, “Couldn’t be more excited to be going home. It is my family’s turn to host this year, so all my cousins will be breaking down our door.”

I smile wistfully, “You have a big extended family?”

“The biggest. My parents were the only ones who stopped at one child. The rest of my aunts and uncles felt the need to re-stimulate the world population.” Nico rolls his eyes, but the love shining through them tells me a different story.

“What about you? Heading back to Lethbridge after exams?”

Taking a sip of my beer to collect my thoughts, I give Nico a nonchalant shrug, “Thinking I might stay here. Catch up on recovery and all that. My pride can only let Hunter beat me so many times.” The rookie laughs just as his phone dings.

“Sorry, it’s Wes. One sec.” Waving him away, I take another sip of my beer and survey the room. My eyes are accustomed to picking out Stella’s unnatural shade of platinum in a crowd, so it doesn’t take me long to determine she hasn’t arrived yet. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Wes or his girlfriend tonight either.

I frown, rescanning the room, and spot Nico still talking on his phone. The sleek black dress shirt he’s sporting tonight shifts against his torso as Nico rapidly shakes his head at whatever is being said down the line. Unease pricks my stomach as I picture the hunk of metal Wes drives, one that barely qualifies as a working vehicle. The grip on my solo cup tightens as images of car wrecks flash through my mind, every worst-case scenario arriving at one common denominator.

Stella could be in trouble.

Stella could be hurt.

Full-blown panic thunders through my veins as I start making my way over to Nico. I’m about five feet from my destination when a slurring voice shouts for my attention.

“Cap! Come show these rookies how it’s done.”

I look over my shoulder to see Mason, the host and graduating defenseman this year, lounging on the couch with a pretty brunette draped over him. The combination of the girl’s green dress and Mason’s ginger complexion immediately paints them as the most festive couple in the room.

My eyes skip to the drunken oval slowly forming around the senior defenseman and it takes me a moment to realize they are all holding cards.

Anxiety continues to itch beneath my skin as I glance back to Nico, who is no longer on the phone and is making his way over to the card game. I exhale heavily, looking down at the sticky laminate flooring beneath my sneakers, and will my stress levels to climb back down.

If Nico isn’t worried about his best friend or the passengers then I shouldn’t be either.

Chugging the rest of my drink, I go for a quick refill before joining my teammates on the floor. Someone passes me a deck of cards and I shake out my suddenly shaky hands.

“Y’alright there, Cap?”

I start to slowly shuffle the cards before responding, “Never better. Now, does everyone know how to play hearts?”

A drunken chorus of I think so goes around and I deal out the cards, choosing to ignore the game my own heart seems to be playing lately.

“Son of a bitch!” Hunter’s exclamation has me leaning into the person on my left as laughter takes over my body. I am well into my buzz now and beating Hunter in cards is the yummiest cherry on top.

Is yummiest a word? If not, it should be.

“Uh oh. I think we’ve got ourselves a drunk captain.” Cheers erupt from the mass on the floor as Nico uses his body weight to push me back into upright position.

I frown in his general direction, certain the goalie’s eyes have never been so dark before. Can irises be black or just pupils?

“I don’t see you playing to win over there, Montezzz.” His last name comes out in three long syllables and suddenly I’m laughing all over again.

“Here, drink this.” A water bottle is pressed into my hands, and I immediately gulp it down. There were many hard lessons I had to learn in my first year, and not drinking water when it’s available was one of them.

“Thank you.” There are no direction to the words, but the reassuring pat on my back makes me think they arrived at the right person.

“Anytime, Cap. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you let loose before.” My head swivels towards the voice, one I have yet to hear tonight.

“Wes!” A dopey smile takes over my face as laughing green eyes come into focus. “It’s so good to see you. What took you so long?”

Chuckling, Wes rakes a hand through his dark hair, drawing my attention to the Metallica shirt my favourite rookie is wearing tonight. Wes is more of a Disney soundtrack than a head-banging rock n’ roll kind of guy, so the new attire must be for the new Mrs.

“Aw, I missed you too. We had some trouble starting my car, so we did a bit of a switcheroo.” Dropping into a crouch next to me on the floor, Wes throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close enough to question both his relationship status and his sexuality.

The guys sitting around us don’t even bat an eye, which says a lot about Wes’ presence on the team.

“Switcheroo?” The man-sized lapdog finally leans far enough away that my personal bubble begins to reform. Brushing off a piece of invisible lint on his shirt, Wes makes himself comfortable beside me, spreading his jean-clad legs out on the floor in front of him.

“Mm, we ended up driving Stella’s car.” His eyes do a sweep of the room, and I can tell the moment they land on Lou because his lips pull into an easy, content smile.

The beer buzz I was cherishing earlier pales in comparison to the anticipation building up inside me. Unable to help myself, I do an obvious scope of the room, head swivelling from side-to-side until my sight zeros in on the person I have been waiting all night for.

Wow.

My mouth goes dry as I take in the vision in front of me, my heart audibly thumping against my chest.

“Your tongue is hanging out.” Nico murmurs the words as he deals out the next round.

I snap my mouth shut, struggling to tear my gaze away from the toned legs peeking out from the incredibly short dress Stella is wearing tonight. She shifts just as I’m about to return to the game and suddenly I get a clear shot of who she’s talking to.

A sound rips from my throat and to my horror, I realize it’s a growl.

I blame the alcohol.

Stella

This dress is fucking tight.

I was surprised I managed to get it on, but even more surprised when the seams didn’t burst the minute I sat in Wes’ car. Either Lady Luck is on my side tonight or this dress was made by a seriously impressive seamstress.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a bit of both.

“So, you live on campus?” I try not to roll my eyes at Hunter’s obvious leering but it’s getting old fast. Once Lou gave Wes the okay to make his rounds, this rookie decided to make his move.

Let me be the one to say, thus far, his performance has been seriously subpar.

Lou, the friendly one of our pair, shakes her head patiently, “We met on the first day of university. We’re roommates.”

Hunter flicks his eyes to Lou but before his gaze can drop below her chin, he nervously glances back to the living room where Wes’ animated voice can be heard. I bite back a laugh as Hunter visibly accepts defeat and steers his gaze away from the slope of Lou’s popping cleavage and back onto friendly territory with my girl’s beautifully made-up face.

As I’d predicted, the cobalt blue top not only accentuates Lou’s modest curves but also brings out the different shades of grey swirling around her pupils. With the tiniest touch of blue eyeshadow and some sparkles for her collarbones, Lou catches the attention of every male in this room.

Unfortunately, the lacrosse player currently taking too much of my personal space is ruining the first ten minutes of this party. Hunter’s millennial, shaggy, teen idol hair leaves much to be desired, and we aren’t even going to mention the unsubtle bicep flex he did while handing me a drink.

I can’t believe I made out with this guy.

Tugging at the ends of his Flames jersey, Hunter takes a step closer to me. “That’s sweet. I room with a couple of teammates on campus as well.”

His hand not holding the solo cup snakes towards me, and I resist the urge to smack it away. Why guys think one make out means they can touch you whenever they want is something I will never understand.

“Bet it’s not even a ten-minute walk from my dorm to yours. Gotta love convenience, eh?” The wink Hunter throws my way is almost as smarmy as his smile. I return it without hesitation, keeping one eye on the hand closing in on my waist.

“That must mean you live in the same building as Wes. Last I heard, he was pretty protective of the people his girlfriend hangs out with.” My smile widens until I feel my canines pop out. His hand stills, midair, ten centimeters from my body.

“So, I guess that means he knows exactly where to find you if you crossed a line he didn’t like.” The hand starts to backtrack as I continue with an air of casualty, “But the good news is Wes doesn’t have many friends who would help hide a body. Isn’t that right, Lou?”

In my peripheral, I see Lou clamping her teeth down, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, wait.” I tap on my chin with false realization, “Wes is friends with everybody.” I let out a laugh that would make Tinker Bell stash every ounce of pixie dust she owns and quiver with fear.

“So where does that leave you, Hunter?”

“I-I need to go.” The rookie doesn’t even say goodbye as he turns on his heel and stumbles through the mass of people, trying to put as much space between us as possible.

Smart man.

Lou snorts into her drink, shaking her head, “The poor guy will never approach you again.”

“Only if I’m lucky.” I smile and toss a carefully crafted curl over my shoulder.

It took me over an hour to curl every strand of my waist-length, pin-straight hair, but the finished result was well worth the effort. The platinum curls create the perfect backlash for the short, tight, halter dress I accidentally chose to wear tonight. I finished the look off with a touch of navy eyeliner and voilà! Three hours later, I was ready to party.

If there’s one motto I’ve created all on my own, it’s that perfection takes time.

“Trip! I need your help.” Wes’ voice breaks through the thumping bass and Lou looks at me with wide eyes.

“Ten bucks says Nico dealt him a bad hand.”

I burst out laughing and hold out my hand, “Twenty says he got a good hand but doesn’t know it.”

Lou smirks and grabs my hand, “Deal.”

She starts to make her way towards the cramped living room, and it takes all of two seconds for her to realize I’m not following. Pausing right before the dense crowd swallows her up, Lou looks back with concern, “Stella?”

I hold up the drink in my hand and tilt my head towards the kitchen, “I need to pour this out. I’ll catch you in a bit, okay?”

A worry line appears between Lou’s perfectly penciled brows – done by yours, truly – so I hold up my phone and tap it in reassurance. With a hesitant nod, Lou resumes her trek through the drunken wilderness, and I wait until I hear Wes’ excited exclamation about her arrival before heading the other way.

One glance at the overcrowded kitchen full of splashing drinks and rambunctious laughter is all the motivation I need to change course and head down the hallway in search of a bathroom. Thankfully, it’s still early at the party scene, so the number of couples groping against the wall are few and far between.

I duck past a doorframe that’s missing a door and come to a mud room. A satisfied smile hits my face when I spy the bathroom tucked into the far corner, the door left ajar so I can see the mirror peeking through the doorway.

Bickering voices hit my ears before my eyes register the figures in the mirror. The back of Hunter’s mop-like haircut gives him away immediately, but his ridiculously huge hockey jersey blocks whoever is facing him. The murmurs are too low for me to make out what’s being said, but loud enough for me to distinguish the tone is nothing short of furious.

Patiently leaning against the wall for the couple to wrap up their argument, I take a moment to study the dark liquid swirling inside my cup. The white plastic brings out the brown pigment in the beer, and I take a cautious sniff.

Disgusting.

Faint tremors trickle up my left side, a constant reminder of why I avoid this stuff. Beer. Alcohol. Substances that can impair judgement. Because at the end of the day it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Or someone ends up dead.

Or, in my case, both.

Pressing a hand against my side, the thick veins of my scar bulge up to meet my hand. If only memories could be washed away as easily as the beer in my cup.

A crash in the bathroom causes me to jump, and I look up to see Hunter storming back to wherever he came from. I hurry to help whoever got left behind and crash into the victim making his way out of the bathroom.

With a scream, I topple headfirst towards the toilet. Right before I can make contact with the porcelain bowl, steady hands reach out and halt my momentum. The calluses on said hands are rough against my skin and it takes all my will power not to sigh and lean further into the brick wall that saved me.

I know without looking up exactly who it is. I’ve seen these calluses get made day-after-day in the gym each morning.

“Better be careful there, Stel. Next time I might not be there to catch you.”

I scoff, taking a step away and breaking our embrace, “Please. We both know I do the heavy lifting around here.”

Cody lets out a laugh and crosses his arms in mock defence. The black t-shirt he’s wearing is nothing fancy but the way it pulls tight against his biceps is a trick Hunter should learn how to do.

I take in the familiar figure in front of me, the impossibly wide shoulders, the annoyingly sharp jawline that only softens on the rarest of occasions. Cody’s signature blonde fauxhawk stands tall and proud, giving him a couple of extra inches to his modest height. Not that Cody needs the extra inches, the guy is built like a brick shithouse.

He grins, “Guess it’s a good thing I’m allowed to lift again.”

Butterflies I choose to ignore take flight in my stomach as I put a fist on my hip and cock it out in challenge, “But you haven’t been lifting recently, now, have you?”

Dragging his gaze from the top of my head down to my argument-ready toes, Cody takes his sweet time bringing his molten brown eyes back up to mine.

“I got cleared to start tomorrow.” Oh.

My posture must reflect my defeat because a quirk of an eyebrow has Cody taking a confident step towards me.

“Noticed I’ve been away, hmm?” A trace of beer stains his breath but for some reason it no longer smells like the unappealing, murky liquid in my glass.

It smells like something I want to taste.

I feign disinterest, turning my back to him as I dump the beer down the sink and rinse out the plastic cup, “Honestly, I was more worried about your gains. You’ve probably lost them all by now.”

Turning around, I bite back a gasp. I hadn’t heard the varsity captain move, but somehow, he managed to sneak up behind me so now I am almost plastered against his chest.

Carefully placing both hands on the sink behind me, Cody lowers himself down until we are face-to-face, and I’m caged between his muscular arms. He manages to do the whole move without touching a single hair on my body, managing to stay respectful in the most dominating way possible.

I hate how much I love it.

“You aren’t wrong about that one.” With our faces level, I can see the alcohol glaze in his eyes. There’s something else swirling around in there but my focus is too centred on my erratic breathing to figure out what it could be.

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” The question comes out breathier than I intended, and I mentally scold my feminine urges for succumbing to such a blatant alpha move.

My hormones are stronger than that.

He holds my gaze for a painstakingly long second then starts closing the space between us. My beath catches, thinking he’s about to kiss me, but at the last second, Cody swerves like the talented lacrosse player he is and whispers softly in my ear, “We can start rebuilding tomorrow morning. Same time, same place.”

He straightens and gives me the nod we’ve exchanged every morning for the past four months. “You know where to find me.”

“You better not be late because you’re hungover!” I shout the words to his retreating form, mentally checking off another Cody conversation victory. He might have gotten the drop on me tonight with the drunken alpha moves, but I got the last word.

Grinning in triumph, I start humming One Direction as I fix the few curls that fell astray. I’m just finishing up when a fading voice reaches my ear, so faint I almost wonder if I imagined it.

“I won’t be late, Stel. You’re in my calendar.”

The grin leaves my lips as my mental tally drops to zero.