Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)(3)
“For fuck’s sake,” Robbie grumbles. “This party isn’t going to happen if one of you clowns ends up with concussion. Come on, one last time.”
A natural silence settles over the room as everyone reluctantly lines up to be told what to do by Robbie and there’s a weird moment where I think it occurs to everyone that this is the last party the guys are going to throw together in this house.
I’m lost in my thoughts, waiting to be told what to do, when JJ starts laughing and shouting. “Twenty bucks! You all owe me twenty bucks!”
“What?”
“Stas is crying!” He wraps his arm around her and kisses the side of her head, “and it’s before she’s had any alcohol! I win.”
Wiping her tears away with the backs of her hands, she looks around bewildered. “You guys bet on me?”
The guys all reach for their wallets, plucking out bills. Mattie shrugs as he slams it into JJ’s awaiting palm. “We technically bet on your tears.”
“This is unbelievable. Nate, did you kn—” She turns to her boyfriend, who’s discreetly pulling money from his pocket. “You’re such a douchebag! You’re all douchebags.”
Nate hands his five-dollar bill to JJ and tugs her into a tight hug, kissing her temple affectionately. “You didn’t even try to last. I could have bought you chicken wings with that money.”
“Unbelievable. It’s just so sad. You guys are all going your separate ways and there’s just an atmosphere.”
“If I told you Russ didn’t bet on you crying today, would that make you feel better?”
Her watery eyes meet mine and she grins. “Thanks, Muffin. You’re not on my shit list.”
I give her a nod of acknowledgment. Letting her think it’s because I thought she wouldn’t cry—which I knew she would at some point—instead of saying it’s because I don’t gamble.
“Excuse me,” Henry interrupts. “Neither did I.”
Henry also knew she would cry but decided he doesn’t gamble anymore in solidarity. JJ is still counting his money when Lola strolls in with bags full of red cups. She looks along the line and scowls. “She cried, didn’t she?”
“Yup,” the room echoes.
“God damnit, Anastasia.” Lola drops the bags into Robbie’s lap, bending to kiss him, before reaching into her purse and pulling out some cash. “This is the last time you’re ever getting my money, Johal.”
“Until I fail at hockey and follow my true calling in life,” JJ counters. “Stripping.”
“Until then.”
“Now everyone’s debts have been paid can we please get this shitshow started?” Robbie groans.
The silence from earlier returns, the same shared thought running through my teammates’ minds one by one. Nate clears his throat, nodding. “One last time.”
The weird atmosphere disappears as soon as Lola burst out laughing. “Alright, Alexander Hamilton. And I’m supposedly the dramatic one, jeez. Bunch of fucking drama queens.”
Chapter Two
AURORA
I’m not supposed to be here right now, but there’s something about basketball players that messes with my ability to exercise self-control.
I said I wasn’t coming and Emilia is already waiting for me at the hockey house, so I don’t know why I let Ryan freaking Rothwell convince me to abandon my plan and swing by. What is it about tall, muscular men who are good with their hands that makes me weak? It’s one of life’s great mysteries.
One that half the women at Maple Hills are trying to work out judging by the crowd at this party.
With several of the team’s players graduating, tonight is their final party. Ryan and I said goodbye to each other four times last week and, as great as he is, we both know he’s not going to keep in touch. He has the NBA draft next month and I’m under no illusions I’ll be invited to sit courtside any time soon. But that didn’t stop me from coming by just because he asked me to, which says more about me than it does Ryan.
I’m minding my business, questioning all my life choices and nursing my drink in a quiet spot in the kitchen when someone I wish was leaving slides along the counter beside me. My eyes instinctively roll the second Mason Wright’s mouth opens, but that doesn’t stop him from bothering me.
He steals my drink from my grip–an act he knows I detest–and takes a sip. “Looking for your next victim, Roberts?”
God, I hate him. “Isn’t it your bedtime, Wright?”
His eyes roam up and down my body and he smirks, making me internally gag. “Is that an invitation?”
Thankfully, I have no problem exercising self-control around this particular basketball player. “An invitation to fuck off and leave me alone? Yeah.”
He chuckles and the idea of him finding joy in anything irritates me. I don’t know where this kid got all his confidence, but he should bottle it and sell it. I’ve never known anyone, especially a freshman, to be as arrogant as this boy.
Returning my drink to me, he leans in a little closer. “You know playing hard to get turns me on, right?”
“I’m not playing, Mason. You can’t get me.”
“And why’s that?”