Jayden

Parties.

I'm getting sick of them.

Why we have to go to Preston's birthday party is beyond me. All I want to do is hop in the car and drive over to Brenna's house. Immersing myself in a party where I only like and enjoy the company of a select few people is a waste of my time. I'd rather be drinking with Brenna, Hunter, and the rest of the group as opposed to attending a birthday party for a racist, misogynistic, homophobic fuck and his entourage.

"Preston's birthday party being on New Year's Eve is fucking ridiculous," KJ says.

Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I follow KJ and Shea up the cement stairs. They're icy, so I have to be careful where I'm placing my feet. The soles of my shoes are so worn out I can practically feel the gritty ice through my shoes. But it also means I'm following through on my intentions: to use these shoes until they're as worn out as possible before breaking out the new ones my grandma bought me for Christmas.

Because I'm so focused on my shoes, I bump into Shea. My hand grabs the pillar beside me, and I regain my balance. Looking up, I see that KJ is standing at the front door. His hand rests on the door handle. He glances over his shoulder. "Are you sure we should do this?"

Shea's posture tenses. When I catch a glimpse of his face, I try not to cringe. He looks like he's ready to lose his temper. Although we, as a group, agreed it would be a good idea to make an appearance for the sake of Connor's ego, Shea's not happy about this.

In addition, I know he's scared of Connor. When Connor punched me in the locker room, I saw the cold fear in Shea's eyes. That's why he froze and didn't do anything to help until Connor was gone. I hope Shea's not ashamed of it. There's nothing wrong with being scared of someone. Especially when that someone continues to threaten you and your well-being and your friends.

Especially when you're the reason an ex-teammate has been kicked off of your team.

That's the exact reason I try to fix the tense atmosphere with some humour.

I snort. "We don't have to stay long, Jones. We agreed to make an appearance. Stand united against Connor."

Shea rubs his face as he contemplates the pending consequences. Ever since Connor was kicked off, rumours have been tumbling through the rumour mill. Few know the real reasoning behind why he was removed from the team. Most people believe Connor quit because the team was holding him back.

As we wait for Shea's decision, I try not to shiver. It's cold as fuck outside and the wind is making the snow catch in my hair and on my scarf. Right now, with the negative temperature and the wind chill, Preston's house looks real inviting.

"Let's just hurry," Shea mutters. "Make sure people see our faces, then leave. We should be with Brenna and the rest of them."

My mind flitters back to the party. The faster we are, the sooner we can get back to Brenna's house. I clap Shea on the back. "Don't worry, man. We'll reunite you with your girlfriend before the clock strikes midnight."

Shea's not happy with my comment. It makes me feel bad, but just as I'm about to apologize, KJ hops on the opportunity to goad Shea.

"God forbid he turns into a pumpkin." He looks at me. "No. Wait. Let's hope we're not scampering around town searching for a someone to fit a shoe because Prince Charming can't remember his true love's face."

Shea makes a gagging noise. "Get your head checked, Jones. You're fucked up."

KJ being KJ reaches out and ruffles Shea's hair before saying, "You love it." Then he proceed to open the door and step through.

Because I'm cold and Shea is unmoving and staring at the door, I step around him and enter the house, welcoming the warmth. At first, I'm greeted by the smell of weed. Then other undertones begin to fill my nose: sweat, beer, stale alcohol, cologne. It makes me want to gag.

After Shea joins us, we wind our way through the crowd and down the hallway to the kitchen. It's a total disaster, and I feel bad for the parents or cleaning person—whoever will have to clean this in the morning. Empty pizza boxes, cans, and plastic cups are everywhere. The floor is sticky beneath my shoes from the splashes of beer that keep sloshing over the rims of the cups they're using for beer pong.

I sigh. All I want to do is turn around and head to Brenna's party.

While we're collecting drinks, I notice the staring contest between Connor and Shea. It puzzles me. Shea usually backs down in moments like these, where the tension is thicker than butter. But he refuses to give up until KJ nudges him.

"Drink?" KJ asks.

Shea breaks the staring contest and takes the can of Sprite from KJ. He cracks the can and takes a long sip, leaning against the counter.

That's what the next fifteen minutes are like. We sip our drinks, the three of us leaning against the counter, and watch the round of beer pong continue on. It's tiresome to watch drunk teenagers throw a ping-pong ball at plastic cups. Maybe I'm a hypocrite. But I don't care. Whenever I play beer pong with KJ, Shea, Brenna, Catina, and the rest of them, the atmosphere is different. It's fun and relaxing. It doesn't feel like an nuclear disaster is about to occur.

Connor and his cronies are adjacent to us. Every so often, I'll meet the gaze of Connor or Preston, which only emphasizes the uneasy feeling in my gut. Something bad'll happen tonight. I just know it.

Which is why I think we're fools to sit here and do nothing.

"Are we just gonna sit here and watch?" I mutter.

Shea shrugs—as usual—and watches the ping-pong ball. "What else can we do? We're here to make a point. Connor only thinks it was us. He doesn't have any proof."

"Shea's got a point," KJ nods. "We need to act natural."

Looking at the drink in his hand, Shea shakes his head. "Right. 'Cause drinking pop is natural."

I tap my foot against the floor. An appearance isn't enough. Somehow, Shea needs to have a conversation with Connor and imply how insignificant this party is. Not only will it piss him off, but also make him think the bet is running smoothly.

Just then, an idea pops into my head.

"We'll tell him we're going to Brenna's party after?" I suggest. "Maybe it'll lead Connor on."

KJ nods in agreement. "Good idea!"

Shea doesn't respond. Instead, he watches the game and takes a sip of his drink, his gaze flicking to Connor every so often.

After another fifteen minutes has passed, Connor finally approaches us. He claps Shea on the back and says, "A little bird told me you were making progress. Skating together, eh? Maybe do a little something more original, Smith. Keep her interested."

Shea doesn't appear to be bothered, which, again, is surprising. All he does it give Connor a nonchalant look before directing his gaze forward and sipping his drink.

His actions piss Connor off. Lurching forward, Connor grips Shea's shoulder and hisses, "You're fucking with the wrong person, Smith. I know what you did."

Shea levels his gaze with Connor's. "Not a fucking clue what you're talking about, Watt."

The venom in Shea's voice makes me and KJ exchange a glance. I'm not sure what's going on with Shea, but he's kind of a badass tonight.

Connor doesn't react, either. "So, tell us the grand plan, Smith. What are you gonna do?"

I sigh. Connor's changed the subject back to Brenna while also playing the smug asshole. The urge to leave is stronger than ever. I can't handle this level of immaturity for much longer.

"For what?" Shea asks.

"Aw, come on, man. Don't leave us hanging. We want to know where you're taking Harrison for your next date."

"Nothing you'll be happy with," Shea replies with a shrug.

Connor grinds his teeth. "Keeping secrets from your team is rude."

Shea flashes him a cocky grin. "You're not on my team anymore."

Again, KJ and I exchange a glance. This time, we're both shocked. Shea wasn't supposed to even hint at our involvement in getting Connor kicked off. He's just opened another can of worms I don't want to deal with. And as rude as it is to call my teammate and friend names, he's being a jackass right now. Confident or not, he's wrecking our anonymous status.

Using his elbow, KJ nudges Shea. I continue to stare at him, while hoping Connor doesn't retaliate. Unfortunately, Shea ignores us and Connor looks furious. However, Preston is the first one to respond. He snorts and runs a hand through his shaggy mullet.

"You didn't think you could get rid of Connor, did you?"

Judging by his grin, there's something more to the story. "What are you talking about?" I frown.

Connor glances at Shea. "A little paperwork and using my uncle's address goes a long way, Smith. Say hello to the new goalie for Vernon."

Shea's Adam's apple bobs uneasily.

KJ opens and closes his mouth, clearly at a loss for words.

Rage pulses through my blood. After all the shit Connor's pulled, why does he keep coming back like a goddamned leech? "What the fuck?" I spit. "That's bullshit!"

Connor glares at me. "Did you think you could remove me from hockey?"

Yes. Yes, we did. Because you are a manipulative asshole who doesn't deserve to play.

Memories of his fist connecting with my nose reverberate through my mind as the rage continues to build. I need to get out of here before I'm the one who starts a fight.

Before another word is said, I spin on my heel and push through the crowd. Loud music pounds in my ears and the condensation from my Sprite makes my hand cold. As I'm walking down the hallway, all I can think about is how stupid we are. Why did we bother coming? Shea posting pictures of him and Brenna on Instagram to celebrate New Year's would've sufficed.

We don't need to play Connor's game the way we are. We need to be smarter. A step ahead.

To get a break from the noise, I slip into a nearby room, ignoring the DO NOT ENTER sign in Preston's chicken scratch writing. It's a media room, similar to the one at Connor's hosue, but much more posh. It's probably his father's man cave. I stop a cocky chuckle from escaping my lips. Preston's the child of a rich family, and although some rich people can understand their positionality and express empathy and kindness, I think his parents missed the mark. They bred an asshole with an ego bigger than Canada.

My fingers trail the expensive leather of the couch as I saunter to the large windows at the far side of the room. Outside, dim an orangish light fills the backyard. Through the weak beams, I can see the snow that's falling. A strange feeling fills my gut. It's a feeling similar to the one when you're walking through a parking lot at night: lonesome, mysterious, but also endearing. Also, I can see Shea standing on the back porch. He must've needed some air.

"Jayden Miller," a voice says. "Didn't expect to see you here."

I jump, dropping my drink, and turn around. As the adrenaline passes, I realize it's Ian Jensen. Hunter's cousin.

My mouth immediately turns dry.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Ian," I blink. "What are you doing here?"

He tosses back the rest of his drink and sets the red plastic cup on the side table. "Crashing the party. As you can see." He gestures to the couch. On the cushions, there's a fading imprint of his body. Turning back to me, he leans against the back of the couch and crosses his arms. The veins in his arms pop as the muscles flex.

I clear my throat. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckles and stares at the ceiling. "Did you know Preston and I used to be friends?"

I shake my head. That's surprising news.

He releases another hollow laugh. "I come to his birthday party every year, thinking this version of him will've died off by now." His words are somewhat slurred. "But I'm disappointed every time. He's still a fucking asshole."

I flash him a weak smile, wishing I could say something to support him. I'd compare Preston to Shea, but that's where the difference lies: Shea's been able to correct his actions and turn himself into a better person. Preston... can't.

"It sucks to lose a friend, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "It does."

Although my hands are a little shaky, I saunter over to Ian and sit down beside him. The edge of the couch digs into my ass, but I don't complain. Ian's presence is like an envelope of calmness compared to the rest of the house.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Ian looks at me, his green eyes shimmering. "People are so shitty nowadays. Why can't we all be good people? Is it really that hard?"

"It is," I sigh. "People think it's too much work."

He leans back on his hands. I try not to stare, but it's difficult not to when his shirt is riding up and I can see the smooth planes of his abs. "Then the world is fucked."

My cheeks fill with heat and I look away. "Maybe it is."

To my left, Ian sighs. "Miller?"

I turn to look at him. "Yeah?"

When my gaze meets Ian's, my breath catches in my throat. He's so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips.

Ian reaches up and brushes my hair away from my forehead. "You're a good person. You're not fucked up."

"Neither are you," I reply. My voice is breathless.

My heart is a wild animal locked in a cage. It threatens to break my bones and burst from my chest. If Ian... If he...

When Ian is only centimetres away, his eyes widen and he looks over my shoulder. "Shit. Smith and Watt are fighting." He grabs my hand and tugs me to my feet. Come on, let's go. We can't let them kill each other. Let's find KJ."

And just like that, the magic of the moment is replaced by reality.

* * *

When we burst through the doors to the porch, Shea and Connor are sizing each other up.

"I never wanted to. Sleeping with her was the plan you concocted. Not me. Sleeping with Brenna and the fucking her over wouldn't have done anything. If you wanted her out, then you should've injured her. A broken heart would fuel that woman. You still have the money. Keep it for yourself. Don't give it to me. I don't want it. I'm done!"

Shea is screaming the words at Connor. And while I feel glad for his character development, this situation could turn nasty at any given second.

Connor crosses his arms and smirks. "Maybe I will injure her."

Shea snaps.

Within seconds, he has Connor pinned against the side of the house. "Touch her," he growls. "And I'll fuck you up. If you do anything to my girlfriend, I will destroy you. Even if it means being ejected from the league. Don't touch her."

"Pussy-whipped," Connor laughs. "You're fucking a puck bunny, Shea. I thought you were better than that."

KJ and I lurch forward before Shea can punch him.

"Let go of me!" he roars, struggling against our grip. "I'm going to fucking kill him! If you touch her, Connor, I will murder you! Do you hear me? Murder you!"

"Shea, man," KJ says. "Calm down. Let's get out of here, okay?"

Shea jolts forward. It's so powerful, my neck snaps back, almost giving me whiplash. "FUCK THAT! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!"

We pull him back, and I shoot a desperate glance at Ian. Jerking my chin at Connor, I say, "Get him out of here, please. I'll owe you one, Ian. But right now, we need to calm Shea down."

Ian nods, shooting a nasty look at Connor. Connor's gripping the railing of the porch. There's nothing but fear in his eyes.

It makes me freeze, and I begin to wonder... Is that why Connor hates Shea? Because he's actually scared of him? The thought blows my mind. It would make sense. Connor's scared of Shea upstanding him in hockey (which he already has). He's scared of the power Shea holds but doesn't flex.

That's why he's done all this shit.

Because his ego is weak and his mind is flimsy.

Shea tries to charge forward again.

"Shea," I say, watching as Ian practically drags a stumbling Connor back into the house. "Stop it, man. He's not worth it. You did enough damage already."

That makes him pause and frown. "Huh?"

"Yeah," KJ echoes. "Huh?"

I gesture after Connor. "He's scared of you, Shea. I think he always has been. Think about it! Why else would he try to ruin your reputation? He's scared of everything you stand for."

Shea's posture straightens. And the confused expression on his face turns into something closer to realization. "Holy fuck."

KJ's eyes nearly bug out of his head. "Damn it, man. That does make sense."

For several seconds, we stand in silence, collecting snow in our hair. It's soaking through my shoes and wetting my socks. And when the cool breeze picks up again, I shiver. Then I clap a hand on Shea's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get out of here. Let him lick his wounds while we spend time with people that actually matter."

KJ nods. "I don't know about you, but I miss Ella like hell."

Shea's posture deflates. "I just want to see Brenna."

In the back of my mind, I'm thinking about Ian. About the kiss we almost shared. But I don't tell my friends that. The feelings I have for Shea are still as potent as poison. But the sexual tension between Ian and I...

I shake my head and turn to my friends.

"Then let's get going before both of you turn into pumpkins."