There’s something different about you
THE HOCKEY DEPARTMENT FUNDRAISER IS HELD THE FOLLOWING week, on a
Saturday night when neither of our teams has a game. I show up with Whitney and Camila, wearing a dress I picked up shopping with Diana this weekend. It’s pale silver, floor-length, and features a plunging vee, which makes me slightly uncomfortable because I don’t usually show off the girls. I feel like they’re not big enough to dazzle. But Diana told me it wouldn’t kill me to be a bit bold. So I extended the boldness to my hair, wearing it loose in big waves, and my makeup, opting for a smoky eye.
I hear a low whistle when we approach the arched doorway of the ballroom. The event is being held at a small convention center in Boston.
I turn, expecting to see Ryder, but it’s Case. Then I remember Ryder and I aren’t public yet. We couldn’t even attend this charity ball together.
“Jesus. Babe, you look amazing.”
I want to tell him not to call me babe. But Cami and Whitney are standing there, and I don’t want to make things awkward. So I let it slide.
“Thanks. You look good too.” He really does. He’s in a tailored black suit, blond hair styled perfectly and clean-shaven face emphasizing his pretty-boy looks.
He flashes me that familiar smile, but there’s no flutter in my chest anymore. No quickening of my pulse. Any romantic feelings I had for him are completely gone.
I’m all in on Luke Ryder, of all people. Who would have thought?
“May I escort you inside, my lady?” Case holds out his arm.
I take it and hope he doesn’t sense my reluctance. I also hope Ryder’s not in there already and, if he is, doesn’t see Case walking me in on his arm.
“See you guys in there,” I tell my teammates.
When we enter the crowded ballroom, our conversation is momentarily drowned out by the sound of the eight-piece orchestra band. They’re playing a classical version of a popular pop song.
Case speaks close to my ear so I can hear him. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy. You know what it’s like in December. Final exams, gearing up for the holidays.”
“How’ve you been, other than that?” “Good.”
He searches my face. “Good,” he echoes. “Would you prefer I say bad?” I laugh.
“Sort of,” he admits. “I want you to say you’ve been as miserable as I am.” He bites his lip, visibly unhappy. “But it seems like you’re doing really, really well. There’s something different about you.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. You’re kind of…glowing. Are you pregnant?”
I snort out another laugh. Then, as if to prove the point, I grab a glass of champagne from a nearby tray. “I most certainly am not,” I say before taking a sip.
He chuckles too, but he appears relieved. It’s almost as if he actually believed the reason I could be glowing is that I was knocked up.
“I’m just happy,” I add. “Our season has been unbelievable. We’re a lock to win our conference.”
Case sighs. “I wish I could say the same.”
Those early losses didn’t do them any favors, and they faced some tough opponents the past couple of weeks. They’re currently behind UConn in the conference. UConn’s been playing some damn good hockey and isn’t keen on relinquishing that lead.
“You’ll get a bid,” I assure him. The teams that don’t make it by winning their conference can get a bid from the selection committee, which picks ten
teams to advance to the postseason. I can’t see how Briar doesn’t make it.
My peripheral vision catches a flash of movement. I turn my head just as Ryder, Shane, and Beckett walk past us, wearing suits and rocking them. They nod in greeting before carrying on toward the open bar.
“Do you have that magazine picture of you and Ryder framed in your room?” I tease.
That infamous shot of Ryder with his arms thrust in the air and Case throwing himself at him in an astounded hug actually made it into an edition of Sports Illustrated. Printed alongside a three-page spread about college hockey.
“My dad does.” Case snorts. “He bought a ton of copies and handed them out to everyone in town.”
“If it makes you feel better, my dad bought a copy too.” Case’s expression brightens. “It does, actually. I miss him.” “Yeah. I know.”
Breakups are tough. And I feel bad that he’s no longer part of our family. He fit in well. My parents loved him. Wyatt thought he was great. But we’re not together anymore, and eventually Ryder will be the one attending my family events. At least, I hope.
But that means we need to tell Case about us, and I’m still dragging my feet about it. I’m not leading him on. I made it clear our relationship is over. I don’t text him. I don’t flirt. If anything, Case is leading himself on because he refuses to admit it’s done.
Still, I know I could make it easier, nudge him closer to the road of acceptance by telling him I’m with someone else. But the idea of hurting him is so upsetting.
My phone buzzes in my sequined silver clutch. I pull it out, taking a sip of champagne as I read the text.
RYDER:
I want to fuck you so bad right now. That dress is fire.
I cough loudly.
Case looks concerned. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I cough again. “Just went down the wrong tube.”
I know Ryder’s watching, so I make an exaggerated show of sticking my phone back in my purse. I refuse to allow any exhibitionist shenanigans tonight, no matter how badly I enjoy them. This event isn’t the place for it. Not with Case here.
“Gigi,” he says softly, and I know he’s about to bring up our breakup.
Thankfully, we’re interrupted by more people who, this time, don’t walk past us. Trager, Will, and several others join us. Cami then drags me away to browse the items our committee procured for the silent auction.
My dad outdid himself this year. His contribution was a private lunch with him, the lucky bidder, and…the Stanley Cup. I swear, when Garrett Graham calls in a favor, people in the hockey world race to grant it.
I’m three glasses of champagne in when my bladder says enough. I’m not drunk, though. Slightly buzzed and enjoying this party much more than I thought I would. But that’s probably because Ryder is wearing a suit and I’ve been secretly ogling him all night.
I emerge from the ladies’ room at the same time Jordan Trager is stumbling out of the men’s. Unlike me, he is drunk. Visibly.
Someone’s been taking advantage of that open bar, I see. I don’t know whose idea it was to offer free booze to a bunch of college guys. They should have a cash bar next time. Keep guys like Trager in check.
He grins at me and swings his arm around my shoulder. “Goddamn, G, you really do look good tonight. That fuckin’ dress.”
“Thanks.”
We head down the hall together toward the doors of the ballroom. “When are you going to put my man Case out of his misery?”
I smother a sigh. “Come on. It’s a party, Jordan. Let’s not get too deep.” “I’m just saying, you two are perfect for each other.”
“Yeah, well, things happen. And sometimes relationships end.” “He still loves you.”
As my heart squeezes, I finally release that sigh. “Can we not talk about this?”
But Trager’s not listening. “Hasn’t he paid his dues already? Like, damn. He got a blowjob from some chick at a party. It’s not like he actually fucked her.”
His words are a splash of ice water to the face. A blowjob?
Um.
This is the first I’m hearing of it.
I want more details, but I don’t want Trager to think he’s done something wrong and clam up. So while all the muscles in my body are trying to stiffen, I forcibly relax them and play it off like I knew.
“I don’t know, maybe he did have sex with her,” I say, tipping my head mockingly. “Guys always try to downplay things like that.”
Like the time Case told me they just kissed and I’m now finding out some girl went down on him.
He lied to me.
The cord of anger that whips through me has nothing to do with ego, with the fact that Case hooked up with another girl. Maybe before it would’ve been. But right now, the betrayal I feel is all about the lie. He lied to me about it. He made such a big show about being honest when he sat me down, gave me those sad eyes, and confessed he’d kissed somebody else.
And I pushed him, damn it. Demanding to know if he did anything else.
He looked me right in the eye and said no.
And now I’m here trying to protect his feelings? Keeping my current relationship under wraps so that poor Case doesn’t feel bad about himself?
“Case and I are done,” I tell Trager, my voice coming out colder than I intend. “Both of you are just going to have to accept that.”
I shove open the doors. I’m halfway across the ballroom when a familiar song starts playing. It’s so unexpected that I stop for a moment, turning my gaze toward the band. Hearing an orchestra play the rock song I grew up with brings a spark of warmth.
Followed by a jolt of irritation, because I would love to dance to it and I can’t, at least not with the man I want.
And now I’m angry. At myself. Angry for not letting myself live my own life. All this time I was trying to spare Case’s feelings, and now I realize what a crock of shit that was.
I’m not a petty person—I honestly don’t think too hard about what I do next. I’m just tired. Tired of watching Ryder from across the room all night and not being able to talk to him.
Tired of having to send sly texts about how much we want to bang each other.
Tired of not being able to hold his hand.
Tired of not being able to throw my arms around him, like the night he protected me from the creepy elevator guy. I should have hugged him then, but I didn’t. All because I was trying to be respectful of my ex-boyfriend’s feelings.
My gaze drifts toward Ryder’s group. They’re howling over something Shane just said. Well, Beckett, Case, and David are howling. Ryder, of course, is chuckling quietly because he’s not a howler. No, he’s too cool for that.
So, no, I truly don’t mean to be petty, but this song is beautiful and the sight of him takes my breath away, and soon my legs, of their own volition, carry me toward the group.
“Hey,” I interrupt, touching Ryder’s arm. “Come dance with me.”
