Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(3)

I let the ignition run while I sip my decaf vanilla latte, debating whether to let myself inside. Even though Chase claims it won’t be an issue, I’m worried his roommates will resent me for crashing here on zero notice. Not having my brother here makes moving in seem all that much more intimidating—but if he takes a long time, I could be sitting out here in my car for a while.

My phone rings before I can decide what to do. Instead of it being Chase like I expect, it’s Abby. Stifling a yawn, I accept the call using Bluetooth.

“You’re coming out with us tonight, right?” Abby’s high-pitched voice booms over my speaker. I’ve known her since elementary school, and while she’s five foot nothing, her personality is stronger than a shot of straight Everclear. “Kendra and Rachel are coming over at five to pregame.”

“Would love to Abbs, but I have to unpack.”

Abby huffs. “You’re no fun.”

“Let me get settled, and I’ll see.” All this change has left me feeling unnervingly adrift. Back in Arizona, I had a solid group of friends, knew most of my professors, and could navigate the campus blindfolded. It was easy. Comfortable. Familiar.

Now I’m starting all over again.

A vise wraps around my neck, and I swallow another sip of coffee that does nothing to alleviate the tension restricting my throat. On second thought, maybe going out wouldn’t be a bad idea. It would help get my mind off things, if temporarily.

“Come on, Sera.” Abby’s voice climbs. “It’s your first night back and we need to celebrate. You can unpack tomorrow. Plus, there’s an invite-only event at XS, and I can get us on the list. Maybe you’ll see your sexy Devil from Halloween again.”

“Hades,” I correct her, my face heating. The masked guy I hooked up with at a nightclub masquerade ball has reached legendary status within our friend group—probably because he gave me an impressive total of three orgasms during a quickie on the edge of a grimy bar bathroom sink.

“Fine,” she says. “Your sexy Hades.”

“Psh, I doubt I’ll ever see him again. What are the odds of that?” Our encounter fell woefully short when it came to exchanging personal details. The only things I took away from our tryst was that he’s hot (obviously), has lots of tattoos (further adding to the hotness factor), and knows where the G-spot is. Somehow, we didn’t touch on where he lived, where he went to college, or much of anything else—including his name.

In all of my twenty years on this planet, I’ve never done something like that before. Or since, actually.

Either way, I was left with the impression that unlike me, our anonymous hookup wasn’t out of character for him. He probably wouldn’t even remember me. I only wish I could say the same. That night has lived in my head rent-free ever since. Toe-curling, lip-biting, panty-soaking memories I reminisce about late at night when I’m alone in bed with a battery-operated toy in one hand.

“Think it over?” Abby pleads, snapping me out of my dirty daydream. “XS will be way more fun than opening boxes.”

It’s hard to argue with that. As impractical as it would be, a night out sounds a lot more appealing than drowning in a sea of cardboard.

“Sure,” I concede, knowing I shouldn’t. “I’ll come for a while.”

My brother pulls up beside me and gets out of his truck. He strides around the front and raps on my window impatiently, his deep brown eyes fixed on me.

“Let’s go, Sera. I have to leave for practice soon.” His voice is muffled through the glass.

“Gotta run,” I tell Abby, unfastening my seatbelt. “I’ll text you later so we can make plans.”

Ending the call, I slide out of the car and wrap my arms around my torso to combat the bitter wind howling at my back. Note to self: buy a massive winter coat, stat. The bigger, the better.

Chase raises his dark eyebrows. “Let me guess. That was Abby?”

It isn’t really a guess when she talks loud enough to render a megaphone unnecessary.

“Yup.” I press the rear hatch release, watching him in my peripheral vision. He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again without saying anything further. We both know where he stands on the Abby issue. He claims she’s a bad influence, but that’s ironic considering the source.

“Why didn’t you let yourself inside?” he asks, his tone softening. “It’s your home too now.”

“I don’t know. I wanted to wait for you.”

We circle around to the back of my SUV to find the oversized trunk and backseat crammed to the roof, which means we have our work cut out for us. In retrospect, I won’t need glittery cocktail dresses from sorority formals or out-of-season linen pants any time soon. Should’ve left some of it in storage, but it’s too late.

“Brr.” I shiver, bouncing on the spot for warmth. It’s the type of cold you feel right down to your bones. The minute we finish, I’m going to boil myself in an hour-long bath with an audiobook. “Let’s get this over with. If we work quickly, maybe we won’t freeze to death.”

My brother pinches the sleeve of my lightweight white jacket, giving me a withering look. “A real coat might help.”

“I have a hoodie underneath.”

“A windbreaker still won’t cut it in the middle of a Massachusetts winter.”