8. Caroline

8

CAROLINE

“Okay, this was the best idea ever. I am so glad we came,” I say to Tatum, who took the cowgirl theme to a whole new level with a diamond-encrusted cowboy hat. She raises her tequila shot, and we lick the salt, shoot it back, and suck the lime, both of our lips puckering from the bitter burn.

“Told you!” She grins. “This is my favorite bar on campus, and the fact that they don’t look twice at my fake ID is just a plus. I can’t believe it took us this long to get here.”

Between schoolwork picking up and the internship, I’ve been swamped. Plus, I had my sorority duties on top of that and haven’t had much time for “fun.”

So I couldn’t turn Tatum down when she said we had to come out tonight. Even if I’ll be paying for it tomorrow when I’m dragging ass. And since we’re technically not old enough to drink, the fake ID did come in clutch. We’re on our second round of shots. Or is it third? I’m not drunk… yet, but I’m definitely feeling the looseness as the alcohol courses through my body.

The bar itself is packed full to the brim, people spilling out of the booths wearing cowboy hats, chaps, and obnoxiously large belt buckles. Obviously, the students of Northwestern take these themes very seriously when it comes to two-for-one drink specials.

Honestly, it’s so fun to see everyone dress up like this, and I’m feeling good in the cutoff denim shorts Tatum let me borrow, along with the hot pink cowgirl hat.

“How about we get another drink and go dance? This song is the best!” she says, gesturing to the speakers above our heads.

Oh god.

“Is that… Jessica Simpson?” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Yep. These boots were made for dancing, baby, let’s go!” She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the dance floor, which is quickly filling up with people, the sound of boots hitting the wooden floor.

Tatum and I dance, shaking our asses to this ridiculous throwback “These Boots Are Made for Walkin,” but in our case… dancing. I twirl Tatum around, both of us giggling until my stomach hurts from laughing, and when the song fades out, we step off the dance floor, both of us holding on to each other.

“Oh my god, have I mentioned that I love you? No, seriously, I’m so thankful we ended up together as roommates,” she says.

“Not as thankful as I am. My best friend, Lena, from back home was worried I’d end up with someone who likes to go through my stuff when I’m not there or someone who was bitchy, but I got the exact opposite. The universe knew I needed a kick-ass new bestie to survive this year.”

Her face lights up as she smiles, and then her gaze flits behind me before widening. “Oh my god.”

“What? What is it?” I go to turn around to see where she’s staring, but she grabs my arm and shakes her head.

“Hudson freakin’ Rome and Noah Chaney just walked through the door.” Her voice rises an octave, and she grips my hand as she fangirls like a celebrity just walked in the door.

And I guess to most people in Chicago… he is a celebrity. But to me, he’s just… Hudson. Though I can’t ignore the swirling feeling in my stomach that fluttered at the mention of his name.

It’s been exactly four days since the night we ate fancy grilled cheese by the riverfront and talked about our lives, our fears. When he told me about his parents and how they’re the epitome of love and how he grew up in a home filled with love. How his sister is his best friend and how his friends and family make his life go round.

The night when he almost kissed me, even though I could see the war he was fighting with himself raging behind his gaze as that familiar tension hung in the air between us. I could see how close he was to giving in. And then, he cleared his throat and brought me home, dropping me down the street from the house.

Four days that I haven’t stopped thinking about him.

Even when I know I shouldn’t.

“Are you going to talk to him?” Tatum asks excitedly, her eyes flicking between the three of us.

Tatum knows that we work together at Face-Off, but she doesn’t know what happened between us. It’s not that I wanted to keep it from her; there just wasn’t really a reason to tell her.

Until now, that is.

“Um, no, probably not. It’s not like we really know each other that well.”

She sighs. “Care, are you really going to rob me of my dream to be a hockey WAG? Noah Chaney. Let that sink in. Do not do this to me.”

I glance over at Hudson, who’s now standing at the bar with his friend, not looking in my direction at all.

“How about we go dance again? I love this song.” I grin, tugging on her hand and pulling her back toward the dance floor. But her feet are nearly glued to the ground, and she stands unwavering.

Shit. She is not going to give up on this. I have to tell her.

“Okay, I have to tell you something. Like right now.” Before she can protest, I drag her along to the back of the bar by the bathroom, where it’s slightly quieter and tucked off from the packed crowd.

“Before I tell you this, you have to swear on your Cartier bangles that you will never repeat a word of this to anyone. Ever. Under any circumstance.”

“Duh. What’s happening?”

I let out a shaky sigh before the words fly out of my mouth in a rush. “I slept with him.”

She goes completely still, her eyes so wide it’s almost comical.

“What do you mean you had sex with him? Wait, which one are we talking about?” she asks like that’s the most important part of what I just told her.

“Ugh, okay. So, I went to the cup party. You know, the one when they win the championship?” She rolls her eyes as I continue. “I met him outside, and he was funny, and one thing led to another and we had the best sex ever in a broom closet. I didn’t know who he was at the time, and he obviously didn’t know who I was. We kind of used fake names?”

“Which one? You still haven’t answered that question. God, I’m freaking out, Caroline!”

I rub my temples as my alcohol-fuzzy brain tries to sift through the questions coming my way. “Take a guess, Tatum…”

“Romeo. Got it,” she mumbles, shock still written on her face. “Caroline, I can’t believe you had sex with Romeo! He’s a literal fucking god on the ice. Wait, you had no freakin’ clue who he was?” Her eyes turn dreamy as she speaks. “I bet he has the biggest dick ever, and he probably fucks like a god too.”

I slap my hand over her mouth as a group of girls walks by us, my eyes widening. “Please do not ever repeat any of that, ever again. Actually, we’re just going to pretend I never even told you and that it actually didn’t even happen. We’re supposed to never talk about it again, ever, so you have to act like you know nothing. Which is why I can’t introduce you because I’m trying to avoid him.”

“I mean, you’ve had the man’s dick inside you, babe. A little late for that.”

Groaning, I drop my head back in exasperation, causing my hat to fall backward slightly, the string around my chin keeping it on.

“Seriously, Tatum. We are just going to pretend we didn’t even see them. We agreed to not speak about it again, and we work together now. On top of the fact that he’s on my dad’s team… it’s just messy. We’re friends, and I don’t want to cause any drama or cross any lines.”

She nods as she speaks. “Okay, we’re going to go back to the bar, get another round of shots, and act like we didn’t even see him.” Tatum nods again. “Okay, yes. That’s what we will do. God, you’re a literal frickin’ legend right now, Caroline. You fucked Romeo and didn’t even give him your name. Do you know how many girls would literally die just to be looked at by that man? Honestly.”

“Tatum…” I say in exasperation, and she holds her hands up in surrender.

“Fine. Fine. But if the opportunity ever arises, just know I am so down for that man. Chaney. Not Romeo.” She loops her arm in mine, and we head to the bar, where I do my absolute best to look everywhere except where he’s standing.

I don’t want things to be weird, and even though I think we’re kind of friends now, I’d rather just hang with Tatum and do my thing.

The bar is much more packed now, but Tatum flags the bartender down and orders us a round of Jägerbombs.

“So, here’s the plan. You need to meet some hot guys, not the two extremely hot but off-limits,”—she lowers her voice—“hockey players, and get to know people besides me. So, we’re going to take shots, then I’m going to introduce you to a few people.”

“Yes, exactly. And I need to dance because that was so much fun.”

We wait for our shots, and once the bartender slides them across the sticky bar, we toss them back and head toward a table of people that Tatum says she knows.

“Guys, this is my new roommate and new bestie, Caroline. She transferred here from Washington this year,” Tatum says, nudging me as she introduces me to her friends.

Good thing I am one hundred percent an extrovert and love meeting new people because all eyes are on me in this ridiculous outfit. I smile and wave to the table. There are a few guys wearing faux cowboy hats and a girl in the back corner who’s smiling kindly at me.

I try to keep up with their names, but the music is loud, and everyone slides out of the booth just as the next song comes on, heading for the dance floor. It’s already packed, so I hang back some and watch as everyone partners up and starts swaying to the slow country tune.

“Wanna dance?” someone asks to my left, and I look over to see the tall guy with reddish-brown hair who was tucked into the back of the booth. He extends his hand, and I place mine in his.

“Sure, yeah.”

The song only lasts a few minutes, but in that short time, I somehow step on the poor guy’s feet no less than ten times. Thankfully, he’s a good sport, and once it ends, he leads me off the dance floor to a nearby booth.

“Okay, I had no idea I was that terrible at dancing,” I admit, scrunching my nose.

He laughs deep and low, and for the first time, I notice how handsome he is. I mean… not Romeo handsome, but not that we’re comparing.

“I’m Jay, by the way, and I’ll take you stepping on my feet all day, every day if it means I get to dance with you.”

My cheeks heat slightly, and I laugh. “Okay, Jay. Nice to meet you, and I apologize in advance for your toes.”

He drapes his arm across the back of the plush velvet booth and leans in closer, dragging his fingers along the bare skin of my arm. “So, you’re friends with Tatum?”

I’m not really sure how I feel about him touching me, but it seems innocent enough. “Uh, yeah, we’re roommates at Pi.”

He nods. “I’m pre-med and on the basketball team. That’s how I met Tatum—study group.”

Wow. I don’t bother trying to hide my surprise.

“That’s ambitious,” I say. “From what I understand, sports players generally want an easy course load so it doesn’t interfere.”

I can’t imagine a pre-med schedule on top of sports. I can barely keep up with mine while working at the rink, and pre-med is much more strenuous.

“Yeah, well, sports don’t exactly run in my family, but medicine does, so it just made sense for me to follow that track.”

We spend the next few minutes talking, and I realize several songs have passed in that time. I didn’t even notice because honestly, he’s easy to talk to. I could totally see myself being friends with him.

I realize I haven’t seen Tatum in a while, so I’m looking around the room for her when I hear Jay whisper next to me, “Holy shit.”

When I look up?

Hudson is standing at the table, and the look in his eyes is so intense that I feel it right between my thighs.