May

"Why do you look like a drowned rat?" Are the lovely words I'm greeted with when I open the door.

"The little spawns of Satan decided to entertain themselves by making me their water balloon fight target." I elaborate as I yanked the dry spare of clothing from Carmen and invited her in.

She laughs, "Then why do you still punish yourself by babysitting Dawson's grandkids?" She asks and subtly looks around.

"It's just for extra money," I snort, "they're in the game room, so you can relax." I reassured her before making my way to the guestroom to change, leaving her in the kitchen. "Seriously, Car?" I groan out and hear her devious little giggle as I stare down at my clothes. Or correction. Hers.

She's still laughing when I enter the kitchen, "In my defence," Carmen says with her hands raised, "your roommate and her boyfriend were in the middle of World War III when I got there. I wasn't about to get dragged into that mess just to grab your clothes. So, the only option was me sacrificing one of my own masterpieces."

"It's 2 in the afternoon for Pete's sake." I swear Lexi and her boyfriend fight almost everyday. I can count on one hand the number of times I peacefully slept in our dorm room without them basically kicking me out or making me play middleman on who I think was right or wrong. Leaving me no choice but to either cramp up Carmen and Olive- Carmen's roommate - space. And for complicated reasons I can't just ask to sleepover at Luke's place because Dylan is his roommate.

I needed to find a place of my own fast. "I think you look cute." Carmen smirks as if she was proud at her choice of clothing.

I practically slap at my boobs, "You call this cute? Carmen! My boobs are quite literally falling out of this piece of cloth." I frantically wave my hands around the sight and awkwardly try to keep her baggy jeans from falling down my waist.

"Well, I'm sorry, okay, but you said you were in a hurry, and I just grabbed the first thing I could." She looks around as if she can magically make my own clothes reappear or at least make my boobs a size smaller. Or two.

"I guess you wouldn't want to wear what I'm wearing right now either, huh?" She whines at the cream tube top she wore with denim boy shorts.

Carmen had the body of a Victoria Secret model. Meaning she was taller, slimmer, and had smaller tits than me. And it's not like I hate her sense of fashion, I love it, actually. On her. And maybe if it were my size and I was going out to a club in Vegas, I would've loved this too.

"What time does your meeting start anyway?" Carmen asks the little wheels behind her eyes, working overtime to come up with a solution.

Before I could respond, the front door creaked open, signaling Mr. Dawson's son-in-law's arrival.

"May?" His voice echoed through the hallway.

I grabbed Carmen's hand and tugged her behind me, snatching my bag from the couch. "Right now," I said urgently as we rushed past Mr. Smith.

"Um, what about the money-"

"I'll text you my banking details, bye!" I called over my shoulder as we made a beeline for Carmen's car.

"So, you're wearing them then?" She asks, and I swear I hear excitement in her voice, before speeding down the road.

I readjusted my dislocated boobs and sighed, "I guess I am."

****

I made it just in time to catch up with the rest of my assigned partners just as they were about to enter the stadium. Sam was the first to see me jog up to them and had to do a double take and almost staggered back into Rosa.

"Sorry I'm late, guys."

"Wilson, finally, you've decided to grace us with your presence." The forceful smile Maggie shoots me makes her look constipated, and I fight the urge to tell her that.

"Yeah, all three of you." Sam shamelessly stares at my chest as we make our way down the hallway.

"I thought you were gay?" Rosa asks, tilting her head at Sam.

"Oh, honey I am painfully homosexual." He says with a chuckle, "Where have you been hiding your figure girl." He nudges me with his shoulder.

I rolled my eyes and readjusted the poor excuse of a top and made sure the jeans weren't practically halfway down my ass.

Maggie gives me and obvious disgusted once over and then starts fiddling with the little cross on her necklace. "I'd call it a coincidence that she decides to 'bless' us with her figure the day we have to stand in front of a room full of men." Maggie's southern accent is full of bitter judgment.

Oh for fuck's sake.

I stop dead in my tracks. How on earth had that information just slipped my mind? I drag a hand through my still half drying hair and turn helplessly towards the three of them, "do any of you maybe have a hoodie I could-"

"Media majors! I'm not fond of tardiness, meetings start in the next 5 minutes." Coach Dawson's voice thundered from the other side of the hallway.

"That man is terrifying." Sam shutters and then turns to me with a shrug of his shoulders, "sorry May, no hoodie today."

Rosa also shakes her head, Maggie narrows her eyes and scoffs, "of course neither of us have a hoodie, it's like 80° out there. Now quit stallin' and let's get this project over and done with." She says and the rest follow her through the doors leading to the skate rink.

I gather as much courage as I possibly muster and try my best not to let the insecurities and every other negative thought make me run out the second I step through those doors. I need to pass this assignment. I had to.

I tried my best to avoid eye contact, but I also wasn't going to keep my head down. No matter how much my heart raced in my chest with nerves. Then sheepishly look away when I see Dylan raise a brow in silent question. While Luke just straight up looks confused at my presence.

"What -" Luke begins to ask, but Coach Dawson claps his hands to grab everyone's attention.

"Alright, why don't you all settle down and cooperate accordingly." He makes it sound like a threat. Hell, anything this man says sounds like a threat. "If any of you so much as cough or breathe loudly while any of these four are talking, it will cost you an extra hour on the ice. Raise your hands if you want to talk." He instructs, leaving no room for anyone to go against him.

Except for one brave soul, a guy with a head full of curls eagerly shot his hand up, like an excited elementary schooler rather than a college student. "No, not you. I don't want to hear a word from you."

The guy simply shrugs and then taps the guy next to him on the shoulder who's had his head down, scrolling through his phone, and whispers in his ear.

My eyes automatically narrow when his friend looks up and grinned at him. This one, grinning like the devil, raises his own hand.

"Smith?" Dawson calls on him.

"Coach," the guy says, nodding toward me, "some of us were wondering why the chick's flashing us."

A wave of chuckles ripples through the players. My face burns. I open my mouth to retort, but before I can fire back, my gaze snags on someone across the group.

Kade Fucking Brown.

He isn't laughing. He isn't even smirking. He's staring at me like I've just walked into his arena wearing enemy colours, jaw set, eyes sharp.

And just like that, we're locked in. Neither of us blinking, neither of us breaking. A stubborn, silent dare hanging in the air.

Hatred. Cold. Familiar.

The noise around us blurs until Luke's voice cuts through finally tearing my gaze from his, "Dude that's my sister."