One Night with the Hockey Captain

TESSA The music were too loud when I pushed through the front door of the off-campus house. Bass rattled the windows, tangled with the sharp smell of alcohol and something sweet burning in the kitchen. Someone had spilled beer across the porch steps, leaving the floor inside tacky beneath my shoes. I hadn’t actually planned on coming. Zoey had texted three times, each message more insistent than the last, until the final one simply read ~He’s here. With her. ~ I read it twice, hoping I'd misunderstood. I found them in the upstairs hallway, pressed against the wall outside the bathroom. Chase’s hand was under Hazel’s shirt. Hazel’s mouth was on his neck. For a second the party noise faded into a single high ringing in my ears. Then Hazel looked up, eyes glittering with amusement and smiled. Chase turned. His eyes widened “Tessa—” “Don’t.” My voice came out louder than I expected. “Just… don’t.” He stepped away from Hazel. “It’s not… she's just… Tessa, baby, listen—” “Baby?” Hazel snorted. “That’s cute. Didn’t sound like you were thinking about baby thirty seconds ago.” Chase shot her a look. “Shut up, Hazel.” “Why? She should know the truth.” Hazel tilted her head, studying me like I was something interesting. “You kept him waiting forever, Tessa. What did you think was going to happen?” I stared at Chase. Two years of promises and of believing every “I love you” and ignoring the growing distance whenever I told him I wasn’t ready. “Was any of it real?” I needed him to say yes. I needed at least one true thing to walk away with. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Rubbed the back of his neck the way he always did when he was about to lie. “I love you. I just… I needed more. You wouldn’t—” “Don’t you dare put this on me.” I blinked hard, fighting the tears burning behind my eyes. Hazel’s smile widened. “She’s still not ready, Chase. Look at her. She’s going to cry in front of half the school.” People had started gathering at the bottom of the stairs. Someone else whispered my name. I turned and walked back down, through the crowded living room and past the stares. Chase called after me once, but I didn't stop until I stepped outside into the cool night air. By morning the story had already rewritten itself. Hazel told anyone who would listen that I was frigid. That Chase had finally gotten tired of waiting for a girl who still acted like she was fifteen. That he’d only stayed as long as he had out of pity. The words spread faster than the truth ever could. In the dining hall people glanced at me and then away. In lectures the seats around me stayed empty. Someone had drawn a crude cartoon of me on a bathroom stall door, a little stick figure wearing a locked chastity belt beneath the caption Brooks the Virgin. I scrubbed it off with the side of my fist until my knuckles bled, but the next day it was back. I stopped answering Chase’s calls. I stopped answering anyone’s calls except Zoey’s. That night she stood in the middle of our dorm room with her arms crossed, watching me stare at the wall. “You’re coming with me,” she said. “I’m not.” “The hockey team’s throwing something three blocks over. People who don’t know you, and definitely aren’t waiting for you to fall apart. Perfect.” “I don’t want people.” “Too bad. I’m not leaving you alone with your brain tonight.” Zoey’s voice softened. “Please, Tess. Just for an hour. If it sucks we'll leave immediately, hm?” I took the jacket and slipped it on, following Zoey out into the night. By the time we reached the house, music was already blasting through the walls. Bodies packed the living room. I accepted a plastic cup I didn’t plan to drink from and let Zoey pull me through the crowd until we reached the kitchen. “You good?” she asked, leaning in close so I could hear her. “No.” “Want me to stay glued to your side?” “I just need five minutes where nobody’s looking at me like I’m a cautionary tale.” Zoey squeezed my arm. “Okay. I’m going to grab us actual drinks. Don’t disappear.” She slipped out of sight, and my attention wandered across the room until it caught on him. Nolan West was leaning against the kitchen counter, dark hair falling over his forehead as he laughed at something one of the defensemen said. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, a half-empty bottle of amber liquor sitting beside him. He looked relaxed in a way I rarely saw, his usual sharpness softened by whatever he'd already been drinking. A girl in a cropped hockey jersey stood too close to him, fingers brushing his arm. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t lean in either. I'd known Nolan for years, but only in the way you knew your brother's friends. From across the room during Christmas breaks. From the stands at Dylan's games. From the occasional nod whenever I stopped by his apartment. He'd always kept his distance, careful to treat me like nothing more than his best friend's little sister. Tonight I didn’t want careful. I crossed the kitchen before I could talk myself out of it. Nolan looked up as I approached. His eyes were glassy, and he was leaning a little too hard against the counter. The girl beside him frowned the second she noticed me. “Brooks,” he said. “Didn’t know you were coming out.” “Change of plans.” I stopped in front of him, close enough that the girl had to shift. “You look like you’re celebrating.” “We won. Barely.” He blinked harder than necessary, studying my face longer than he normally would have. “You okay?” The question caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting him to care. “No. I’m not.” It was the first honest thing I'd said all week, and I'd said it to the wrong person, at the wrong time, in front of the wrong girl. He reached for the bottle, missed it by an inch, then caught it on the second try and took a slow sip. The girl beside him made a sound of annoyance. “Can we talk?” I asked him. “Alone.” The girl scoffed loudly. “Seriously? You’re interrupting.” She looked me up and down, lips curling. “Aren’t you the one everyone was laughing about earlier?” I raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the one still standing here even though he’s barely looking at you?” Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” “You heard me.” She stepped closer, voice dropping into something mean. “You should go back to whatever pity party you came from before you embarrass yourself even more. He doesn’t do projects.” Nolan’s head turned toward her. “Enough.” “I’m just saying—” “I said enough.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut. He didn’t look fully steady, but the captain tone still landed. “Give us a minute.” She stared at him, then at me, then muttered something under her breath and walked off, heels clicking hard against the floor. The noise of the party settled back around us. I kept my eyes on Nolan’s. Darker than I remembered, and clearly not sober. “I need—” I stopped, then forced the words out. “I need to not be the girl everyone is talking about for five minutes. Can you help me with that?” His jaw flexed. “Tessa—” “I’m not asking you to fix anything. I’m asking you to let me pretend for one night that I’m not broken.” He stared at me for a long second, then dragged a hand through his hair. “You know who I am.” “I know exactly who you are.” “Dylan’s best friend. The guy who’s supposed to look out for you, not—” He exhaled, and gestured vaguely at the bottle. “f**k. I’ve had too much of this.” “I don’t want looking out for tonight.” I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I want someone who doesn’t see me as the little sister or the campus joke. Just for a few hours. Can't you do that?” He stared at me for a long moment. “No.” “Why?” “Are you really asking that question, Tessa?” His words were slower now, the edges rounded by alcohol. “Why does it even have to be me?” Heat crept up my neck, but I didn’t look away. “Because you’re… hot, and you’re here. And you look at me like you actually see me instead of the version everyone else decided I am.” He set the bottle down harder than necessary and nearly missed the counter. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?” “Not tonight.” He stood there without saying a word, then muttered something under his breath, took my hand a little unsteadily and led me through the crowd without another word. We made our way up the stairs, leaving the noise of the party behind us with every step. By the time we reached the second floor, the music had faded into a dull thump. He pushed open a bedroom door that wasn’t locked and closed it behind us. The room smelled like laundry detergent and faint cologne. A single lamp burned on the nightstand. Outside… The room smelled like laundry detergent. A single lamp burned on the nightstand. Nolan turned to face me. He swayed just slightly, enough that I noticed. “You understand what you’re doing?” “Yes.” “I’m not going to be careful with you the way he should have been.” His warning only made me more determined. “Good.” He took a step closer. “Last chance to walk out.” “I’m not walking out.” “Tessa.” My name sounded different in his mouth. “If we do this, it stays here. No one finds out. Especially not your brother.” “I know.” He reached up, caught my chin between his thumb and finger, and tilted my face up so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. His hand was warm and steady despite the alcohol. “Say it,” he said, voice low. “With your mouth, out loud.” “It stays here. Dylan never knows.” Only then did he let go. He crossed the space between us in two strides. His hands found my waist, then my face, tilting it up. “You’re sure?” he asked, his face inches from mine. His breath smelled faintly of whatever he’d been drinking. “Stop asking.”