1
ELI
The first thing I hear when I get back to the bench is Mason Reid telling me I’m a fucking idiot.
Not exactly the reception I was hoping for.
“Nice of you to notice,” I tell him, dropping onto the bench beside Jace.
Mason leans forward, his helmet resting against his knee. “You want to explain what the hell you were doing out there?”
“Playing hockey.”
“You took a stupid penalty.”
“Guy had it coming.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Pretty sure it was the point when I hit him.”
Jace laughs beside me.
Mason doesn’t.
Which isn’t unusual. Mason’s been wearing the captain’s C for two seasons now, and apparently that means he’s contractually obligated to be pissed off about something at all times.
Especially when that something involves me.
“You’re lucky they didn’t score,” he says.
I grab my water bottle. “You’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“Giving you something to complain about. You were looking bored.”
“Jesus Christ, Hawkins.”
He turns away before I can say anything else.
Jace knocks his glove against mine.
“Worth it,” he says.
“Obviously.”
Across the ice, the Ravens’ student section is still screaming at the officials.
I can’t blame them.
Number twenty-six for Briar State has been getting away with shit all night. Holding sticks, throwing elbows after whistles, running his mouth every time he gets within five feet of me.
I finally got tired of it.
Unfortunately, the referee took exception to me introducing the guy’s face to the boards.
Two minutes for roughing.
Whatever.
We’re tied at two with just under eight minutes left in the third, and the penalty’s already been killed. The only thing I’m interested in now is putting another puck behind their goalie.
Preferably before Mason has an aneurysm.
Coach Donovan steps behind the bench and points at Jace and me.
“Hawkins. Walker. You’re up.”
I stand immediately.
“Try not to spend the rest of the period in the box,” Mason calls.
I glance over my shoulder. “No promises.”
Jace follows me over the boards.
The second my skates hit the ice, everything else disappears.
That’s always been the best part of hockey.
Doesn’t matter how shitty my day has been, how many assignments I’ve ignored, or how many people are pissed off at me. When I’m out here, there’s one thing that matters.
Win.
I don’t give a shit how pretty it looks.
The puck drops in our defensive zone. Jace gets tangled up with their left wing along the boards while I swing low to give Nolan an outlet.
“Wall!” I shout.
Nolan Price has already stopped thirty-four shots tonight, and he’s been letting everyone know exactly how unhappy he is about it.
He traps the puck behind the net, looks up, and sends it along the boards.
I collect it near the hash marks.
A Briar State defenseman closes in.
I shift my weight, pull the puck across my body, and slip past him before he can get a shoulder into me.
The crowd gets louder.
I hear Jace calling for it on my right.
I send him a pass through the neutral zone, then drive toward the offensive blue line.
Their defense backs up.
Jace takes a shot from the top of the circle.
The goalie gets a pad on it.
The rebound kicks into the slot.
I turn, looking for the loose puck, but their center gets there first and clears it.
“Fuck,” Jace mutters as we turn to backcheck.
We spend another twenty seconds fighting for possession before Coach calls us off.
I skate toward the bench, breathing hard.
Mason moves over to make room.
“Better,” he says.
“Glad I have your approval.”
“You’d be amazed what happens when you actually play hockey instead of trying to murder somebody.”
“Still time for both.”
He shakes his head, but I catch the corner of his mouth twitching.
The next few minutes are ugly.
Briar State starts dumping pucks deep, forcing our defensemen to chase. Nolan makes two ridiculous saves, one of them with his blocker while he’s practically lying on his stomach.
The crowd chants his name.
He gets up and slaps his stick against the ice.
From the bench, Jace cups his hands around his mouth.
“PRICEY! I WANT YOUR BABIES!”
Nolan doesn’t even look at him.
“Think he’s interested?” I ask.
“Playing hard to get.”
“Story of your life.”
“That’s funny coming from you.”
I turn toward him.
He’s watching the ice with a grin that tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I shove his shoulder.
He laughs.
Coach whistles sharply.
“Enough. Hawkins, Hayes, Walker. Next whistle.”
My smile disappears.
Jace notices.
Of course he does.
He doesn’t say anything, though.
Smart guy.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and watch Cameron Hayes circle back into our defensive zone.
Number nineteen.
Our first-line center.
One of the best players on the roster.
And the last person I want to spend a shift with.
Coach separated us at the beginning of the season, mostly because we spent half of last year finding new ways to piss each other off. Unfortunately, we’re also two of the strongest offensive players Westbridge has, which means he occasionally decides winning is more important than keeping us apart.
Can’t really argue with the logic.
Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
A Briar State player gets called for hooking with five minutes and forty-three seconds remaining.
The whistle blows.
Coach points at us.
“Let’s go. First unit.”
I hop over the boards.
Cameron skates toward the faceoff circle without looking at me.
Jace comes up beside us.
“Wouldn’t hate a goal here,” he says.
“Groundbreaking strategy,” I tell him.
Cameron adjusts his grip on his stick.
“Just get open.”
I look at him.
He doesn’t look back.
It’s the first thing he’s said directly to me all night.
“Try winning the draw,” I reply.
His jaw tightens.
Jace exhales.
“Fantastic. Love the communication.”
The official steps into the circle before either of us can say anything else.
Cameron bends over his stick.
The puck drops.
He wins it clean.
Mason collects it at the blue line and moves it across to our other defenseman, Theo Sullivan, who’s waiting near the boards.
I circle toward the left faceoff dot.
Briar State’s penalty killers collapse toward the middle.
Theo sends the puck back to Mason.
Mason fires it down to Cameron below the goal line.
I know what’s coming before Cameron even turns.
That’s the annoying thing about playing with somebody for three years.
You learn them.
Their timing. Their habits. The way they read a play before it happens.
Cameron draws the nearest defenseman toward him, then shifts the puck onto his backhand.
I move into the open space.
He sends it through the slot.
Perfect pass.
Right on my tape.
I don’t hesitate.
One touch to settle it.
Then I shoot.
The puck sails past the goalie’s glove and hits the back of the net.
For half a second, everything goes quiet.
Then the arena fucking explodes.
I throw my arms up.
Jace slams into me hard enough to nearly knock me over.
“LET’S FUCKING GO!”
Mason grabs the back of my helmet.
Somebody’s yelling in my ear.
And then Cameron’s there.
He catches my shoulder, grinning, and I grab the front of his jersey.
“Fuck yeah!” he shouts.
I laugh.
Actually laugh.
For one stupid second, it feels exactly like it used to.
Then I remember who I’m looking at.
His smile fades first.
My hand drops from his jersey.
He lets go of my shoulder.
Jace wedges himself between us, still shouting something about the pass.
I turn toward the bench.
The crowd is chanting my name.
HAW-KINS. HAW-KINS. HAW-KINS.
I raise my stick.
By the time I reach the boards, I’m smiling again.
But the feeling from that half second stays with me.
And I fucking hate it.
We win 3–2.
Briar State pulls their goalie with a minute and a half left, and Nolan spends most of that time performing miracles while the rest of us throw ourselves in front of anything that looks remotely like a shot.
When the final horn sounds, I skate straight toward him.
He barely has time to pull off his mask before I grab him.
“You beautiful bastard.”
“Get off me,” he says, laughing.
“You saved our asses.”
“Again.”
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
“Thirty-eight shots, Hawkins.”
“Thirty-eight opportunities to show everybody how talented you are.”
He shoves me away.
Jace arrives a second later and nearly knocks both of us into the net.
By the time we finish the handshake line and get back to the locker room, the entire team is riding the high of the win.
Somebody turns on the speakers.
The bass rattles through the room.
I drop onto the bench in front of my stall and start peeling off my gear.
My shoulders ache. There’s a bruise forming along my ribs where Briar State’s defenseman caught me in the second period, and my right wrist is going to be sore tomorrow.
Worth it.
Jace sits two stalls down, already arguing with Theo about something.
“I was wide open,” Jace says.
“You were behind three guys.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Kind of is when I’m supposed to pass you the puck.”
“You could’ve tried.”
“I enjoy keeping possession.”
I grin while tugging off my elbow pads.
Mason walks into the middle of the room and claps his hands.
“Listen up.”
A chorus of groans answers him.
“Shut up for thirty seconds.”
“Twenty,” Jace counters.
“Walker.”
“Fine. Twenty-five.”
Mason ignores him.
“Good win. We needed those points, and everybody knows it. But we gave up way too many chances in the second, and we’re not getting away with that against Northfield next weekend.”
“Can we celebrate before you start telling us how much we suck?” Theo asks.
“You can celebrate after you listen.”
Nolan raises a hand.
Mason looks at him.
“If anybody wants to buy me dinner for keeping us in that game, I’m available.”
A few guys laugh.
“I’m serious,” Nolan adds. “Something expensive.”
“Put it on Hawkins’s tab,” Jace says. “He’s loaded.”
“Fuck off.”
“Your dad owns, like, half of Connecticut.”
“He owns a development company.”
“Same thing.”
I throw a roll of tape at him.
He catches it against his chest.
Mason waits for everyone to settle before finishing his speech.
We have a recovery skate tomorrow morning, film review Monday, and a tough road weekend coming up.
Nothing we haven’t heard before.
Still, I listen.
Mostly.
Coach Donovan comes in a few minutes later, congratulates us, and reminds everyone that wearing a Westbridge jersey doesn’t make us immune to consequences off the ice.
His eyes linger on Jace.
Then me.
Then Theo.
“Why’s he looking at us?” Theo asks quietly.
“Profiling,” Jace mutters.
Coach’s expression doesn’t change.
“And I don’t want to hear about anybody doing something stupid tonight.”
“Define stupid,” Jace says.
Half the room laughs.
Coach points at him.
“Whatever you’re thinking about doing.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Walker.”
“Understood, Coach.”
The second the door closes behind him, Jace turns toward the room.
“So. Party at ours?”
The answer is immediate.
Obviously.
We won a rivalry game on a Saturday night.
There’s no chance the house stays quiet.
Mason drags a hand down his face.
“Can we at least try not to destroy the kitchen this time?”
“Kitchen’s fine,” I tell him.
“The cabinet door is missing.”
“Still opens.”
“Because there’s no fucking door.”
“Convenient, isn’t it?”
Nolan laughs from across the room.
Mason looks at me for a long moment.
“You’re paying for that.”
“Put it on my tab.”
Jace points at him.
“See? Loaded.”
I flip him off.
Around us, guys are showering, changing, talking over one another, making plans. A couple of freshmen are already texting people about the party.
I check my phone.
Six messages.
Three from Kendall.
One from my dad.
One from a group chat I muted two months ago.
And one from an unknown number asking if I’m going to The Tap tonight.
I ignore that one.
Kendall’s messages are more interesting.
Kendall: That goal was insane.
Kendall: Pretty sure I screamed louder than everyone in our section.
Kendall: Meet me outside when you’re done ❤️
I smile and type back.
Me: Give me twenty. Need a shower.
Kendall: Make it fifteen.
Me: Bossy.
Kendall: You like it.
She’s not wrong.
I put my phone down and grab my towel.
Across the room, Cameron is talking to Theo while he pulls a sweatshirt over his head.
He looks over at Nolan.
“Hey, are we doing anything before the house?”
“Probably grabbing food,” Nolan says. “Why?”
“Ava’s waiting outside. We might stop somewhere before heading back.”
Her name cuts through the noise more effectively than it should.
I keep digging through my bag.
Cameron continues talking.
Something about whether the kitchen has any actual food left.
Nolan tells him there’s a frozen pizza in the freezer.
Jace says he ate it yesterday.
Mason tells him that was his pizza.
An argument follows.
I barely hear it.
Ava’s waiting outside.
For Cameron.
Which shouldn’t be news.
She’s been dating him for months.
I’ve seen them together more times than I can count.
Still, there’s something about hearing him say it so casually.
Like it’s always been that way.
Like he didn’t spend the first two years of college watching her wait for me.
I zip my bag harder than necessary.
Jace looks over.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
“You look pissed.”
“I’m tired.”
He studies me for another second.
Then he glances toward Cameron.
“Right.”
“Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Keep it that way.”
Jace raises both hands.
“Whatever you say, sunshine.”
I grab my towel and head for the showers.
Twenty-three minutes later, I’m walking through the arena corridor with Jace and Mason.
The crowd has thinned, but there are still plenty of people hanging around. Parents talking to players, students taking pictures, a couple of kids waiting for autographs.
A little boy in a Ravens hoodie spots me and immediately starts tugging on his dad’s sleeve.
I recognize him from a youth hockey clinic we did last month.
“Hey, buddy.”
His face lights up.
“Eli!”
I stop and crouch to his level.
“What’s up?”
“You scored two goals!”
“Pretty good, right?”
He nods enthusiastically.
“I scored three today.”
I put a hand over my chest.
“Three? Shit. You’re coming for my job.”
His dad laughs.
The kid giggles.
I sign the little notebook he’s holding and ask him how his season’s going. He tells me about his game in excruciating detail, including a penalty he insists was completely unfair.
I tell him referees have been ruining lives for generations.
His dad gives me an amused look.
“Don’t encourage him.”
“Too late.”
When we finally move on, Jace bumps my shoulder.
“Look at you. Role model.”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?”
“Kid’s gonna grow up with a mouth like yours.”
“Could do worse.”
“Yeah. Could have your personality.”
“Fuck you.”
“See? Inspirational.”
I’m laughing when I spot Ava.
And just like that, the sound dies in my throat.
She’s standing near the far wall with Brielle Dawson and Kenzie Ellis.
Dark jeans. Black boots. A fitted cream-colored top beneath an unzipped Ravens jacket.
Cameron’s jacket.
I know because I watched him wear it to practice yesterday.
Ava has her hair down, dark waves falling over her shoulders. She’s laughing at something Kenzie says, one hand wrapped around an iced coffee.
She looks good.
Not that that’s unusual.
Ava Montgomery has always looked good.
It’s one of the many things that used to get me into trouble.
Jace notices the girls and raises a hand.
“Ladies.”
Kenzie turns first.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”
“We were busy being athletes.”
“Pretty sure you were busy taking forty-minute showers.”
“Beauty takes time.”
“Clearly not enough.”
Jace presses a hand to his chest.
“That hurt.”
Kenzie grins and hugs him.
Brielle rolls her eyes.
“Congratulations on the win.”
“Thank you,” Mason says.
“Not you,” she tells Jace. “You missed an empty net.”
Jace stares at her.
“Jesus. Does everybody know about that?”
“The entire arena saw it.”
“Goalie got a piece.”
“The goalie was on the other side of the crease.”
“Details.”
I laugh.
Brielle gives me a brief smile.
“Hawkins.”
“Dawson.”
We’re civil.
That’s about as far as our relationship goes these days.
There was a time Brielle practically lived at our house too. She and Ava would show up with takeout, steal our hoodies, and complain about the disgusting state of the kitchen.
Then everything happened.
Brielle made it very clear whose side she was on.
Can’t say I blame her.
Doesn’t mean I particularly enjoy her attitude.
Ava turns toward me.
Our eyes meet.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then she lifts her coffee slightly.
“Good game.”
“Thanks.”
“Nice goal.”
“Which one?”
Her mouth curves, but it isn’t quite a smile.
“The one Cameron set up.”
Jace makes a small sound beside me.
I ignore him.
“Yeah,” I say. “He managed to find me.”
Ava’s expression changes.
Barely.
But I know her well enough to notice.
“He’s pretty good at that.”
I look at her.
She takes a sip of her coffee.
I could say something.
Several things, actually.
Instead, I shove my hands into my pockets.
“Apparently.”
Mason steps into the silence.
“You guys heading to the house?”
Kenzie nods.
“Eventually. We’re starving.”
“There’s food coming,” Jace says.
Brielle looks skeptical.
“Actual food?”
“Pizza.”
“From where?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
Jace starts explaining his very strong opinions about pizza while Mason checks his phone.
Ava looks away from me.
And I should do the same.
Instead, I notice the little silver necklace resting against her collarbone.
A thin chain with a small oval pendant.
I bought it for her sophomore year.
Not for a birthday or anniversary.
Just because we’d passed a jewelry store downtown one afternoon and she’d stopped to look at it.
She’d forgotten about it by the time we got home.
I hadn’t.
A week later, I gave it to her.
She wore it almost every day.
Apparently, she still does.
That shouldn’t mean anything.
It’s a necklace.
People keep jewelry after breakups.
I still have a sweatshirt she bought me.
Doesn’t mean I’m sitting around writing fucking poetry about her.
“Hey.”
I turn.
Cameron is coming down the corridor, duffel over one shoulder, phone in his hand.
He doesn’t acknowledge me.
He goes straight to Ava.
“Sorry, baby. Coach grabbed me.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just talking about the next series.”
She smiles.
“Good.”
He slips an arm around her waist and leans down to kiss her.
It’s quick.
Natural.
The kind of kiss you give somebody when you’ve been looking forward to seeing them.
His hand stays at her hip afterward.
I look toward the arena doors.
Jace clears his throat.
“Anyway. I’m starving.”
Cameron glances over.
“Thought you were ordering food.”
“We are. Doesn’t mean I can’t be starving now.”
“Fair.”
Ava rests a hand against Cameron’s chest.
“Can we stop somewhere first? I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
“Yeah, of course.”
He brushes his thumb over her side.
“You want that Italian place?”
She smiles.
“You read my mind.”
Something unpleasant twists in my stomach.
I know the place.
Small restaurant downtown.
Terrible parking.
Good pasta.
Ava loves their chicken Alfredo.
I took her there on our first official date.
Cameron knows that.
Of course he does.
He was the guy I called afterward because I was convinced I’d somehow fucked it up.
I look away before either of them catches me staring.
“Hawkins!”
A familiar voice cuts through the corridor.
Thank fucking God.
Kendall is weaving through a cluster of students, blonde hair falling over the shoulders of her black leather jacket.
She’s smiling.
I can’t help smiling back.
“There she is.”
She reaches me and throws her arms around my neck.
I catch her around the waist.
“You took forever,” she complains.
“Had to make myself pretty.”
“Clearly.”
“That’s twice tonight somebody’s said that to me.”
“Maybe take the hint.”
I laugh and kiss her.
She tastes like strawberry lip gloss.
Her fingers slide into the hair at the back of my neck, and she kisses me again before pulling away.
“You were so good tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make me compliment you twice.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She grins.
Kendall Foster is a lot of things.
Boring isn’t one of them.
We’ve been together officially for eight months, and I still like spending time with her. She’s funny, gorgeous, and doesn’t expect me to sit around pretending I’d rather be watching movies than going out on a Saturday night.
She likes the same things I do.
Parties.
Drinking.
Sex.
Having a good time without turning every little thing into a discussion about what it means.
It works.
Most of the time.
Kendall looks past my shoulder.
Her smile changes.
Not much.
But enough.
“Oh,” she says. “Hey, Ava.”
Ava turns.
“Kendall.”
That’s it.
One word each.
A whole fucking history packed into two names.
Kendall keeps an arm around my waist.
“Good game, Cameron.”
“Thanks.”
“You guys coming tonight?”
“Probably,” he says. “We’re grabbing food first.”
“Fun.”
Kendall smiles.
Ava doesn’t.
Brielle suddenly becomes very interested in something on her phone.
Jace looks like he’s considering jumping through the nearest window.
I almost laugh.
Almost.
Kendall turns back to me.
“Are we heading out?”
“Yeah.”
She slides her hand into mine.
“Good. I’m freezing.”
I pull her closer.
“Should’ve worn a warmer jacket.”
“Should’ve dated a basketball player.”
“Terrible decision.”
“Less ice.”
“Less talent.”
She laughs and leans against me.
I kiss the top of her head.
It’s automatic.
Comfortable.
And for a moment, everything feels normal.
Then Cameron says something to Ava that makes her laugh.
I glance over.
Kendall feels it.
Her hand tightens around mine.
“Eli.”
I look down.
“What?”
“Come on.”
There’s nothing particularly harsh about her voice.
But I recognize the warning.
I squeeze her hand.
“I’m coming.”
We head toward the doors.
I don’t look back.
Not until we’re outside.
And even then, only once.
By the time we get home, Jace has invited approximately half the university to our house.
I’m not exaggerating.
My phone has been vibrating nonstop with messages from people asking if the party’s happening.
I don’t even know half of them.
That’s what happens when five hockey players rent a house with a decent backyard and very little adult supervision.
The place has a reputation.
Some of it deserved.
Most of it deserved, actually.
It’s an old three-story rental about ten minutes from campus, with a wraparound porch, uneven hardwood floors, and a kitchen that’s been one bad decision away from condemnation since freshman year.
Mason claims the house was respectable before Jace and I moved in.
I’ve seen pictures.
He’s lying.
We pull into the driveway behind Theo’s truck.
There are already cars lining both sides of the street.
Music thumps through the walls.
Kendall looks at the house.
“Didn’t you say people weren’t coming until ten?”
I check the dashboard clock.
Nine forty-seven.
“Close enough.”
She laughs.
Jace climbs out of the back seat.
“Beautiful. My people.”
“Your people are idiots,” Kendall says.
“Exactly.”
He heads toward the front door.
I grab Kendall’s hand and follow.
Inside, the living room is already crowded.
Someone has moved the coffee table against the wall. A group of guys is playing beer pong in the dining room. Two girls are arguing over the music near the kitchen.
I recognize a few faces from my business classes.
A couple of football players.
Some girls from Kendall’s sorority.
And Theo, standing on the couch with a beer in his hand.
“RAVENS!”
Half the room cheers.
Mason appears from the kitchen.
“Get off the fucking couch!”
Theo looks down.
“I’m celebrating.”
“Celebrate on the floor.”
“That’s depressing.”
“The couch is already broken.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Mason closes his eyes.
I laugh and steer Kendall toward the kitchen.
“Drink?”
“Please.”
I grab two beers from the fridge.
Somebody’s written STOP EATING MY FOOD — MASON on a piece of paper taped to the door.
Underneath it, Jace has added:
NO PROMISES.
I hand Kendall a bottle.
She twists off the cap and takes a sip.
“Your house is disgusting.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Still appreciated.”
She leans against the counter.
“You coming to my place tomorrow?”
“After recovery skate.”
“What time?”
“Probably noon.”
She gives me a look.
“What?”
“You said noon last Sunday.”
“Yeah?”
“You showed up at four.”
“I brought food.”
“You brought half a sandwich.”
“It was a big sandwich.”
She laughs.
“I’m serious, Eli. I have that thing with my parents tomorrow night.”
Right.
Dinner.
Her parents are in town for some charity event, and apparently I’m expected to make an appearance.
“Six thirty, right?”
“Seven. But we’re meeting them at six thirty.”
“Got it.”
She studies me.
“You actually remembered?”
“I’m not completely useless.”
“Debatable.”
I pull her between my legs where I’m leaning against the counter.
“You love me anyway.”
The words come out easily.
They always do.
Kendall smiles.
“Unfortunately.”
She kisses me.
I set my beer down and slide a hand along her waist.
Someone whistles.
“Get a room!”
I don’t bother looking.
“Get a girlfriend!”
Laughter breaks out behind us.
Kendall grins against my mouth.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Been told.”
She kisses me again before stepping back.
“I’m going to find Paige.”
“Don’t disappear.”
“Try not to miss me too much.”
“No promises.”
She gives me a quick smile and disappears into the living room.
I watch her go.
Then Jace appears beside me.
“Your girlfriend’s hot.”
I take a drink.
“I’m aware.”
“Her friend Paige is hot too.”
“Also aware.”
“Think she’s single?”
“She dumped that guy from Sigma Chi last week.”
Jace looks impressed.
“Look at you. Keeping up with campus gossip.”
“Kendall told me.”
“Sure she did.”
He steals a beer from the fridge.
We head toward the back deck, where a few of the guys are standing around a patio heater that barely works.
Theo joins us ten minutes later.
Mason eventually gives up trying to control the party and comes outside too.
For a while, it’s good.
Really good.
We talk about the game.
Theo insists his pass in the second period should’ve counted as an assist.
Jace tells him that’s not how assists work.
Nolan comes out and complains that somebody spilled beer on his notes for Monday’s class.
Mason threatens to kick everyone out.
Nobody believes him.
I laugh so hard at something Jace says that beer comes out of my nose.
It’s disgusting.
He takes a picture.
I threaten to break his phone.
He sends it to the team group chat.
Typical Saturday.
This is the part of college I’ll actually miss when it’s over.
Not the lectures.
Not the assignments.
Definitely not the eight a.m. conditioning sessions.
This.
The guys.
The noise.
Winning a game and coming home to a house full of people who are celebrating like they had something to do with it.
Next year, if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be playing professionally.
Maybe in the NHL.
Maybe spending some time in the AHL first.
Either way, I won’t be living in a house with four idiots who think washing dishes means leaving them in the sink until somebody else gets desperate.
It’s a weird thought.
I don’t spend much time on it.
My phone buzzes.
Dad.
Dad: Good game. Call me tomorrow. Want to discuss the conversation with your advisor.
I stare at the message for a second.
Then lock my phone.
Not dealing with that tonight.
Jace notices.
“Everything good?”
“Yeah.”
“Your dad?”
I nod.
He makes a sympathetic face.
“Fun.”
“Always.”
My dad loves hockey.
Loves the idea of having a son who might play professionally even more.
He also loves reminding me that nothing’s guaranteed, that I need a backup plan, and that every decision I make reflects on the family.
We have the same conversation approximately three times a week.
Usually while he’s sitting in an office worth more than our entire house.
I know he means well.
Doesn’t make it less annoying.
Jace bumps his beer against mine.
“To Hawkins scoring the game-winner.”
Theo raises his bottle.
“To Nolan saving our asses.”
“Again,” Nolan says.
Mason shakes his head.
“To everybody making it to practice tomorrow without a hangover.”
Nobody drinks to that.
He looks personally offended.
I laugh.
Then the back door opens.
Cameron steps outside.
And just like that, the mood shifts.
Not dramatically.
Nobody stops talking.
But there’s a slight pause.
A change in the rhythm.
Cameron notices.
He’s not stupid.
“What’s up?” he asks Nolan.
“Nothing. You eat?”
“Yeah. Went downtown.”
“Lucky bastard. We’re living on pizza.”
Cameron laughs.
He looks relaxed.
Freshly showered.
Wearing a dark sweatshirt and jeans.
There’s a small red mark on the side of his neck.
I notice it before I can stop myself.
Then I look away.
Jace starts talking about a play from the second period.
Cameron answers him.
Mason joins in.
For a few minutes, we manage to behave like normal teammates.
Then Cameron’s phone buzzes.
He glances at it and smiles.
“I’m gonna go find Ava.”
He heads back inside.
I stare at the closed door.
Jace takes a slow drink.
“Don’t.”
I turn.
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking about getting another beer.”
“Then do that.”
“Thanks for the permission.”
He gives me a look.
I ignore it.
Because the truth is, I’m not thinking about doing anything.
Not really.
I’m thinking about how fucking strange it is that Cameron can stand here talking to us like everything’s normal.
Like he didn’t spend three years being my best friend.
Like he didn’t know exactly how much Ava meant to me.
Like he didn’t—
I stop myself.
Because that road leads somewhere I don’t feel like going tonight.
And because if we’re going to start listing betrayals, I’m not exactly coming out of that conversation looking innocent.
I finish my beer.
“I’m going inside.”
Jace nods.
“Try having fun.”
“Always do.”
The party gets louder as the night goes on.
By eleven, the living room is packed.
Somebody has started a drinking game at the dining room table. A girl I vaguely recognize from one of my classes is making out with a football player against the refrigerator.
Theo is trying to convince Mason to let him set up a second beer pong table in the hallway.
Mason tells him absolutely not.
Five minutes later, there’s a second table in the hallway.
I spend a while talking to a couple of guys from the team, then find Kendall sitting on the arm of the couch beside Paige Collins.
She’s laughing at something Paige says.
When she spots me, she reaches for my hand.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
She pulls me closer.
“Having fun?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Mhm.”
Her cheeks are pink from drinking, and she’s got that bright, slightly mischievous look she gets when she’s in a good mood.
I lean down and kiss her.
She hooks a finger into the collar of my shirt.
“Come upstairs with me.”
I grin.
“Miss me that much?”
“Maybe.”
“Thought you were having fun.”
“I am.”
She kisses me again.
Then Paige groans.
“Oh my God. Please go.”
Kendall laughs.
I glance at Paige.
“Jealous?”
“Of having to witness this? Extremely.”
I take Kendall’s hand.
We’re halfway toward the stairs when Mason catches my arm.
“Hawkins.”
I turn.
“What?”
“Tell Jace to stop giving people the code to the garage.”
I blink.
“What?”
“There’s a bunch of people out there trying to get into the beer fridge.”
I look toward the back door.
Sure enough, I can hear somebody yelling.
“Why is that my problem?”
“Because he listens to you.”
I laugh.
“No, he doesn’t.”
“He listens to you more than he listens to me.”
“That’s a low bar.”
Mason looks exhausted.
I sigh.
“Fine.”
Kendall squeezes my hand.
“I’m going upstairs.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Don’t take forever.”
She kisses my cheek and disappears up the staircase.
I spend the next fifteen minutes dealing with Jace and a group of guys who apparently think our garage is a public bar.
By the time I get back inside, Kendall has texted me.
Kendall: Paige needed me. Back downstairs in a bit.
I type a quick response and shove my phone into my pocket.
Then I head upstairs anyway.
I want to change.
Somebody spilled something on my shirt, and it smells like cheap vodka.
The second floor is quieter.
Not silent.
The bass still travels through the floorboards, and somebody’s laughing in one of the bedrooms.
But at least I can hear myself think.
I reach my room, push open the door, and flick on the light.
It’s a mess.
Clean laundry on the chair.
Dirty laundry on the floor.
A stack of textbooks I haven’t touched in a week.
My hockey bag sitting near the closet.
Kendall’s overnight bag is beside my bed.
I pull off my shirt and toss it into the hamper.
Miss.
Whatever.
I grab a clean black T-shirt from the dresser and pull it on.
My phone buzzes again.
Another message from Dad.
I don’t open it.
Instead, I check the time.
Eleven twenty-three.
We’ve got recovery skate at ten tomorrow.
Coach is going to be thrilled.
I leave my room and pull the door shut behind me.
At the exact same moment, Cameron’s bedroom door opens.
And Ava steps into the hallway.
We nearly collide.
She stops short.
I do too.
For a second, we just stare at each other.
She’s changed since the arena.
The jacket is gone.
She’s wearing dark jeans and a fitted burgundy top, her hair falling over one shoulder.
There’s a small crease between her eyebrows.
She looks annoyed.
Which, historically, is a look I’m very familiar with.
“Jesus,” she says, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
“Didn’t realize I needed to announce myself in my own hallway.”
Her expression flattens.
“Nice to see you too.”
I lean against my doorframe.
“Having fun?”
“Sure.”
“Convincing.”
She glances toward the stairs.
“Your music is ridiculously loud.”
I laugh once.
“You came to a party.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then I’m not sure what you expected.”
“I expected to be able to hear myself think when I went upstairs.”
“Ambitious.”
She looks at me.
I look back.
For a moment, I think she’s going to tell me to go fuck myself.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Instead, she exhales and adjusts the bracelet on her wrist.
“Whatever. I’m going downstairs.”
She starts to move past me.
I should let her.
There’s absolutely no reason not to.
But then I look at Cameron’s open bedroom door.
And the words come out before I can decide whether they’re worth saying.
“Getting pretty comfortable in there, huh?”
Ava stops.
Slowly, she turns.
“What?”
I nod toward Cameron’s room.
“Just saying. You’re here a lot.”
She stares at me.
Then she lets out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Are you serious?”
“What?”
“You’re seriously going to comment on how often I’m at my boyfriend’s house?”
I shrug.
“Didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to make observations.”
“It’s Cameron’s house too, Eli.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
I look at her.
The question hangs between us.
I could answer it.
I could tell her I don’t particularly enjoy waking up and finding her in my kitchen wearing another guy’s sweatshirt.
That I hate walking past Cameron’s room and hearing her laugh.
That sometimes I come downstairs expecting to see her sitting at the counter with her legs crossed, eating cereal out of one of our chipped bowls, and for half a second I forget which one of us she’s here to see.
But none of that is her problem.
And I’m sure as hell not giving her the satisfaction.
“Don’t have one.”
She crosses her arms.
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like I need your permission to be here.”
I straighten.
“Never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I drag a hand through my hair.
“Jesus, Ava. It was a comment.”
“Yeah. You always have plenty of those.”
Something in her tone gets under my skin.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t get to make me uncomfortable for coming over to see Cameron.”
I stare at her.
“I’m making you uncomfortable?”
“Right now? A little.”
I laugh.
Not because it’s funny.
Because I genuinely don’t know what the hell she expects me to say.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
She studies me for a moment.
Then she shakes her head.
“Unbelievable.”
She turns toward the stairs.
And again, I should leave it alone.
But there’s something about the way she’s looking at me.
Like I’m some asshole she barely knows.
Like we didn’t spend two years together.
Like she can stand three feet away from me in the same hallway where I used to pull her against the wall and kiss her until we forgot what we’d been arguing about, and feel absolutely nothing.
It pisses me off.
“Are you happy?”
The question comes out sharper than I intend.
Ava stops.
She turns around slowly.
“What?”
I push away from the doorframe.
“With Cameron.”
Her face changes.
Not much.
But enough.
“Why?”
“It’s a question.”
“I know what it is.”
“Then answer it.”
She looks at me for a long moment.
Downstairs, somebody shouts over the music.
A door slams.
Neither of us moves.
Finally, she says, “Yeah, Eli. I am.”
I hold her gaze.
“Good.”
“Good.”
I nod once.
She doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
Then her eyes narrow.
“Did you think I wasn’t?”
I don’t answer.
She laughs quietly.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Ava.”
“No, seriously. Nothing.”
She looks toward Cameron’s room, then back at me.
“You know, just because things didn’t work out between us doesn’t mean I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life miserable.”
The words hit harder than they should.
I feel my jaw tighten.
“Never said you were.”
“You’re acting like it.”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“Right.”
I look at her.
She looks back.
And there it is.
That familiar feeling.
The one I remember from a hundred arguments in this house.
The frustration.
The irritation.
The certainty that she knows exactly what I’m thinking, even when I’m doing everything I can to keep it to myself.
I used to hate that about her.
I used to love it too.
Mostly because nobody else ever got under my skin quite like Ava Montgomery.
“Glad you’re happy,” I say.
She gives me a small, tight smile.
“Thanks.”
It’s the least convincing exchange we’ve ever had.
And considering our history, that’s saying something.
Then Cameron’s voice carries up from downstairs.
“Ava?”
She looks toward the staircase.
“Coming!”
I glance away.
She steps past me.
Her shoulder brushes my arm.
Barely.
Probably accidental.
Still, I feel it.
She stops at the top of the stairs and looks back.
For one second, I think she’s going to say something else.
Something about us.
About what happened.
About why we’re standing in a hallway arguing over absolutely nothing when we both have people waiting for us downstairs.
Instead, she says, “Goodnight, Eli.”
I lean against the wall.
“Night, Ava.”
She disappears down the stairs.
A moment later, I hear Cameron.
“There you are.”
“Sorry,” she says. “Got held up.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
There’s a pause.
Then Cameron laughs at something she says.
I close my eyes.
Not for long.
Just long enough to remind myself that I have a girlfriend downstairs, a hockey season to focus on, and approximately a thousand better things to do than stand here thinking about Ava fucking Montgomery.
I open my eyes and head toward the stairs.
Halfway down, I spot them.
Cameron has his arm around her waist.
Ava’s smiling up at him.
He bends to kiss her.
She rises onto her toes to meet him.
And I keep walking.
Because I don’t have a choice.
Because she’s his girlfriend.
Because Kendall’s waiting for me somewhere in this house.
And because the last time Ava Montgomery and I decided to hurt each other, we did a pretty spectacular job of it.
I have no intention of doing that again.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
![Fated to My Ex- Best Friend [Moving to Galatea]](https://cdn-gcs.inkitt.com/vertical_storycovers/ipad_49edb1dbf9a28b50b9c4d68d8598359b.jpg)
