Hannah
โIย CANโT BELIEVEย this is happening,โ Dexter announcesโfor about the millionth timeโfrom the backseat of Garrettโs Jeep.
Next to Dex, Stella sighs and voices her agreementโalso for the millionth time. โI know, right? Weโre in Garrett Grahamโs car. Part of me is tempted to go Carrie Underwood on it and carve my name into his leather seats.โ
โDonโt you dare!โ I order from the driverโs seat.
โRelax, I wonโt. But I feel like if I donโt leave my mark on this car, nobody will ever believe I was in it.โ
Hell,ย Iย canโt believe sheโs in it. I wasnโt surprised when Allie jumped on the chance to come to Cambridge with me, since sheโs still on the quest for details about Garrett, but I was startled when Stella and Dex insisted on coming along.
So far during this car ride, both of them have asked me at least twice if Garrett and I are dating. Iโve replied with my standard responseโwe just hang out sometimes. But itโs getting harder to convince even myself of that.
We blast music for the rest of the drive. Dex and I sing along, and our harmonies are ridiculously awesomeโwhy didnโt I askย himย to duet with me, damn it? Allie and Stella canโt stay on key to save their lives, but they join in for the choruses, and weโre all in high spirits when I pull into the parking lot of the hockey center.
Iโve never been to Harvard before, and I wish I had more time to explore the campus, but weโre running late as it is, so I usher my friends inside because I donโt want us to lose out on finding seats. Iโm floored by how big and modern the arena is and how many people are here tonight. Luckily, we find four empty seats near the Briar teamโs side of the rink. We donโt bother hitting up concessions since we ate a shit ton of corn chips in the car.
โOkay, so how does this game work again?โ Dexter asks me. I grin. โSeriously?โ
โYes, seriously. Iโm a black kid from Biloxi, Han-Han. What the fuck do I know about hockey?โ
โFair enough.โ
As Allie and Stella chat about one of their acting classes, I give Dex a quick rundown of what he can expect. And yet when the players hit the ice, I realize my explanation hasnโt done it justice. This is the first hockey game Iโve seen in person, and I donโt expect the roar of the crowd, the deafening blare of the PA system, the lightning fast speed of the players.
Garrettโs jersey is #44, but I donโt need to look at the number to know which black-and-silver-clad player he is. Heโs the center of the starting line, and the second the ref drops the puck, Garrett wins the opening faceoff and snaps the puck back to Dean, who I thought was a wing but is apparently a defenseman.
Iโm too busy watching Garrett to focus on any of the other players. Heโsโฆmesmerizing. Heโs already tall without skates on, so the added height makes him appear massive. And heโs so fucking fast I have a tough time keeping my gaze on him. He flies down the ice, chasing the puck that Harvard has stolen from us and checking the opposing player like a pro. Briar takes an early lead, thanks to a goal by a player the announcer refers to as โJacob Berderon,โ and it takes me a second to realize he means Birdie, the dark-haired senior I met at Maloneโs.
The clock on the scoreboard ticks down, but just when I think Briar will shut out Harvard in the first period, one of the opposing forwards gets a fast snapshot past Simms to tie the game.
As the period ends and the players disappear into their respective tunnels, Dex pokes me in the ribs and says, โYou know what? This ainโt half bad. Maybe I should start playing hockey.โ
โCan you skate?โ I ask him.
โNaah. But it canโt be that hard, right?โ
I snort. โStick to music,โ I advise. โOr if youโre really determined to get into sports, play football. Briar could use you.โ
From what Iโve heard, our football team is putting up the worst record the school has seen in years, winning only three of the eight games theyโve played so far. But Sean said they still have a chance to make it to the post-
season if they, and I quote, โget their motherfucking shit together and start winning some motherfucking games.โ It makes me feel sorry for Beau, who I genuinely enjoyed talking to at the party.
The moment I think about Beau, Justinโs face swooshes into my head like a gust of wind.
Shit.
We have a dinner date Sunday night. How theย hellย did I forget about that?
Because you were too busy having sex with Garrett? Yep, thatโs it.
I bite my lip as I debate what to do. I havenโt thought about Justin all week, but that doesnโt trump the fact that Iโve been thinking about him allย semester. Something drew me to him in the first place, and I canโt just ignore that. Besides, I donโt even know whatโs happening between me and Garrett. He hasnโt brought up the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I donโt know if Iย wantย to be his girlfriend.
I have a type when it comes to guys. Quiet, serious, moody. Creative, if Iโm lucky. Plays music is always a plus. Smart. Sarcastic but not in a snide way. Unafraid to show his emotions. Someone who makes me feelโฆat peace.
Garrett has some of those qualities, but not all of them. And Iโm not sureย peacefulย is the accurate word to describe how I feel when Iโm with him. When weโre arguing or shooting wisecracks back and forth, itโs like my whole body is wired with electricity. And when weโre nakedโฆitโs like an entire Fourth of July fireworks display going off inside me.
I think that might be a good thing?
Fuck, I donโt know. My track record with guys isnโt exactly a series of successes. What do I know about relationships? And how can I be certain that Justinย isnโtย the guy I should be with if I donโt go out with him at least once?
โSo why do they call it the crease?โ Dex asks in fascination after the second period commences. โAnd why does it sound so dirty?โ
On my other side, Allie leans in to grin at Dexter. โBabe,ย everythingย about hockey sounds dirty. Five-hole? Poke check? Backdoor?โ She sighs. โCome home with me one time and listen to my dad yellย Jam it in!ย over and
over again when he watches hockey, and then you can talk to me about dirty. Not to mentionย uncomfortable.โ
Dex and I laugh so hard we almost fall out of our chairs.
*
Garrett
AS THE GUYSย and I shuffle out of the guest locker room after the game, weโre still riding the high of crushing the home team. Even though itโs one of our sophomores who landed that last beauty of a goal that secured our win, Iโve decided that Hannah is my good luck charm and must now attend all of our games, because the last three times we played Harvard, we got our asses handed to us.
We agreed to meet outside the arena after the game, and sure enough, sheโs waiting there for me when I walk outside. Sheโs with Allie, along with a dark-haired chick I donโt recognize and an enormous black guy who Iโm amazed isnโt on the football team. Because he should be. Maxwell would come in his pants if he had a monster like that on his O-line.
The moment Hannah spots me, she wanders away from her friends and walks over to me. โHey.โ She looks surprisingly shy, and she hesitates, as if sheโs not sure if she should hug or kiss me.
I solve her dilemma by doing both, and as I brush my lips over hers, I hear a victorious โI knew it!โ echo from her friendsโ direction. The exclamation comes from the girl who isnโt Allie.
I pull back to grin at Hannah. โKeeping us a secret from your friends, huh?โ
โUs?โ She raises her eyebrows. โI didnโt realize we were anย us.โ
Now is definitely not the time to discuss the status of our relationshipโ if it even is oneโso I just shrug and say, โHowโd you like the game?โ
โIt was intense.โ She smirks at me. โI notice you didnโt score a goal, though. Slacking much?โ
My grin widens. โI sincerely apologize for that, Wellsy. I promise to do better next time.โ
โYouโd better.โ
โIโll score a hat trick just for you, how about that?โ
My teammates shuffle past us and head for the bus waiting twenty feet away, but Iโm not ready to leave Hannah yet. โIโm glad you came.โ
โMe too.โ She sounds like she really means it.
โAre you busy tomorrow night?โ The team has another game tomorrow, but itโs an afternooner, and Iโm dying to get Hannah alone again so we canโฆyeah. โI thought we could hang out after I get back fromโโ I stop talking when a shadow appears in my periphery vision, and my shoulders set in a tight line when I spot my father descending the front steps of the building.
This is the point of the evening I dread. Time for the big nod, followed by the silent walk-away.
As if on cue, I get the nod. But not the walk-away.
My father startles the shit out of me by saying, โGarrett. A word.โ
His deep voice sends a chill up my spine. I fucking hate the sound of his voice. I hate the sight of his face.
I hate every goddamn thing about him.
Hannahโs expression creases with concern when she sees my face. โIs thatโฆ?โ
Instead of answering, I take a reluctant step away. โIโll be back in a minute,โ I mumble.
My father is already halfway down the parking lot. He doesnโt even turn around to check if Iโm following him. Because heโs Phil fucking Graham, and he canโt imagine someoneย notย wanting to be around him.
Somehow my stiff legs carry me in his direction. I notice several of my teammates lingering at the door of the bus, watching us curiously. A few of them are visibly envious. Jesus. If they only knew what they were jealous of.
When I reach him, I donโt bother with pleasantries. I just scowl and speak in a terse voice. โWhat do you want?โ
Like me, he gets right to the point. โI expect you to come home for Thanksgiving this year.โ
My shock manifests itself in the form of a sharp laugh. โNo, thanks. Iโll pass.โ
โNo, what you will do is come home.โ A dark look hardens his features. โOr I will drag you home.โ
I genuinely donโt know whatโs happening right now. Since when does he give a shit whether I come home or not? I havenโt been back once since I left for Briar. Iโm in Hastings during the school year, and I spend my summers working sixty-hour weeks for a construction company in Boston and saving every last penny, which I then use to pay for rent and groceries because I donโt want to take any more of my fatherโs money than I absolutely have to.
โWhy the hell do you care what I do for the holidays?โ I mutter.
โYouโre needed at home this year.โ Heโs speaking through clenched teeth, as if heโs enjoying this even less than I am. โMy girlfriend is cooking dinner, and she requested your presence.โ
His girlfriend? I didnโt even realize he had a girlfriend. And how fucking sad is it that I know nothing about my own fatherโs life?
The way he phrased it doesnโt escape me, either.ย Sheย requested my presence. Not him.
I meet his eyes, the same shade of gray as my own. โTell her Iโm sick.
Or hell, tell her I died.โ โDonโt test me, boy.โ
Oh, heโs busting out theย boy, huh? Thatโs what he always called me right before his fists pummeled my gut, or smashed my face, or broke my nose for the hundredth fucking time.
โIโm not coming,โ I say coldly. โDeal with it.โ
He moves in closer, his eyes gleaming beneath the low brim of his Bruins cap as his voice lowers to a hiss. โListen up, you ungrateful little shit. I donโt ask much of you. In fact, I donโt askย anythingย of you. I let you do whatever the fuck you want, I pay for your tuition, your books, your equipment.โ
The reminder makes my stomach seethe with anger. I keep a spreadsheet on my computer that documents everything heโs ever paid for so that when I gain access to my trust, Iโll know the precise amount to write on the check I plan on handing him before I tell himย good riddance.
But tuition for next term needs to be paid in December, the month before my trust comes in. And I donโt have enough in my savings account to cover the full amount.
Which means Iโm stuck being indebted to him for a little while longer. โAll I expect in return,โ he finishes, โis that you play like the champion
you are. The champion Iย madeย you.โ An ugly sneer twists his mouth. โWell, itโs time to pay up, son. Youย willย come home for Thanksgiving. Understood?โ
Our eyes lock.
I could kill this man. If I knew I could get away with it? I would actually kill him.
โUnderstood?โ he repeats.
I give a curt nod, and then I stalk away without looking back.
Hannah waits for me near the bus, worry clouding her green eyes. โIs everything okay?โ she asks quietly.
I draw in a ragged breath. โYeah. Itโs fine.โ โAre you sure?โ
โItโs fine, babe. I promise.โ
โGraham, get your ass on the bus!โ Coach shouts from behind me. โYouโre holding everyone up.โ
Somehow I manage to force a smile. โIโve gotta go. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow after my game?โ
โCall me when youโre done. Iโll see where Iโm at.โ
โSounds good.โ I drop a kiss on her cheek, then head for the bus, where Coach is impatiently tapping his foot.
He watches Hannah as she makes her way back to her friends, then shoots me a wry smile. โSheโs cute. Girlfriend?โ
โNo idea,โ I confess.
โYeah, thatโs how it usually is with women. They hold all the cards and weโre just clueless.โ Coach slaps me on the arm. โCome on, kid. Time to hustle.โ
I take my usual seat next to Logan near the front of the bus, and he gives me a funny look as I unzip my jacket and lean my head back.
โWhat?โ I mumble.
โNothing,โ he says lightly.
Iโve known the guy long enough to figure out that a โnothingโ from Logan means something entirely different, but he pops in his iPod earbuds and proceeds to ignore me for most of the ride. It isnโt until weโre ten
minutes from Briar that he abruptly yanks out his earphones and turns to look at me.
โFuck it,โ he announces. โIโm just gonna come out and say it.โ
Wariness circles my insides like a turkey vulture. I sincerely hope heโs not about to confess that he has a thing for Hannah, because shit will get awkward real fast if he does. I glance around, but most of my teammates are either sleeping or listening to music. The seniors in the back are laughing at something Birdie has just said. Nobody is paying any attention to us.
I lower my voice. โWhatโs up?โ
He lets out a weary breath. โI debated saying anything at all, but fuck, G, I donโt like seeing anyone get played for a fool, especially my best friend. I figured I should wait until after the game, though.โ He shrugs. โI didnโt want you to be distracted on the ice.โ
โWhat the hell are you talking about, man?โ
โDean and I ended up at Maxwellโs house last night for his Halloween thing,โ Logan confesses. โKohl was there, andโฆโ
I narrow my eyes. โAnd what?โ
Logan looks so uncomfortable that my guard soars another twenty feet.
Heโs never one to beat around the bush, which means shit must be serious. โHe said heโs going out with Wellsy this weekend.โ
My heart stops. โBullshit.โ
โThatโs what I thought, butโฆโ Another shrug. โHe insisted it was true. I figured I should tell you about it, you know, just in case heโs not talking out of his ass.โ
I swallow, my mind running a million miles a second.ย Bullshitย continues to be my thought of choice, but a part of me isnโt so sure. The whole reason Hannah is even in my life is because of fucking Kohl. Because she was interested inย Kohl.
But that wasย before. Before she and I kissedโ
She still went to the party to see him after the kiss.
Right. I gulp again. Well, it was after the kiss but before everything else.
The sex. The secrets we shared with each other. All theย cuddling.
Told you cuddling was a mistake, dude.
My inner cynic wreaks havoc on my brain, bringing a rush of weariness to my chest. No, Kohl had to have been bullshitting. Thereโs no way
Hannah would agree to go out on a date with him without telling me.
Right?
โAnyway, just thought you should know,โ Logan says.
Itโs damn difficult to speak past my tight-as-fuck throat, but I manage one mumble of a word. โThanks.โ