Collide: A Hockey Romance, page 7
9 | AIDEN
THE HOUSE IS always quiet the morning after a party. Sometimes, we can even hear the birds chirping and see the sunlight finding its way inside. Except today, that sunlight is Summer Preston and she’s out for vengeance. And the chirping birds are the blaring of an alarm that jerks me awake. My pillow doesn’t cushion the ringing coming from downstairs, and when I throw off my comforter to yank open my bedroom door, Kian’s across the hall in his Shrek-themed boxers, with both hands over his ears.
“For the love of God, make it stop!” he cries.
“Are we in hell?” groans Sebastian from the bottom of the steps.
“I’m going to throw up,” says Dylan, ducking back into his room.
Suddenly, the noise stops and Summer appears with a bright smile. “Rise and shine!”
When Kian sees her, he pierces me with a glare. “Haven’t you learned not to piss her off?”
“What is this about?”
Her smile is smug. “Since you missed our session yesterday, I rescheduled. We’re going on a hike!”
Sebastian snorts from his place on the floor. He’s still holding his head in his hands when he peeks at her. “Yeah, right, I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk.”
“Kian said you all were at my disposal for this project. Unless that’s changed, and you would rather your captain enjoy probation. I’m going to need you to get dressed.” Grumbles erupt, but Summer turns on the god-forsaken alarm again. “You have five minutes.”
“IF I HAD the energy to throw him off this cliff right now, I would,” mutters a hungover Dylan.
He’s glaring at Kian who chats animatedly with Summer. All the guys are paying for his generous voluntary effort. Eli got lucky because he was MIA this morning, and Cole locked himself in the basement.
Trying not to stare at Summer’s ass this five-mile hike is my own personal brand of torture. She’s wearing tights that outline the perfect curve of her ass and a matching long-sleeve that leaves her midriff exposed. After last night, it’s been hard for me not to think of how close she got to me.
“This is the only reason I’m not on probation,” I say.
Dylan grunts. “Probation would be much preferred over this.”
“Come on guys! I thought you were D1 athletes.” Summer glances over her shoulder.
“There’s a reason we skate on ice, Summer. If I wanted to wear sneakers and walk in the woods, I would be a serial killer,” argues Dylan.
She lets out an amused breath. “It’s not my fault you drank yourself stupid last night.”
For how much Dylan drinks, his hangovers are usually non-existent. The fact that we can see the effects of it today tells me he went overboard. I, on the other hand, only had one drink.
“If I knew you wanted to drag us up a hill, I might have cut down. Besides, your problem is with Aiden. Why torture us?”
“I didn’t do this to torture you.”
“Tell that to my ass,” he groans. His dirt-covered shorts are a result of him tripping over a tree branch. The only one who found that amusing was Kian who took pictures when Dylan fell. “You were at the party, too. Did you drink a gallon of coffee this morning to want to do this?”
“I don’t drink coffee, only tea,” she retorts.
“You like drinking bitter hot water?” chimes Sebastian, who hasn’t spoken the entire hike.
“Chai. With milk and sugar.”
Dylan mumbles something under his breath while I try to figure out how to get Summer alone. I’ve been hoping I can at least talk to her today, but Kian’s been on her like a leech this entire hike. There’s something about her voice that makes me itch to hear it. So, as we climb down after the anticlimactic mountain-top view, the guys walk ahead, and I pull her back.
She comes easily. “I haven’t talked to you all day. I’m thinking this punishment is a bit cruel,” I whisper against her ear.
She shifts to look at me. “Not talking to me is punishment?”
“The worst kind.”
Summer falters, and when I take a try to close the distance between us, she takes one back. The move surprises me, and just to see what she does I take another, sending her even further. “You scared of me, Preston?”
She scoffs. “Yeah, right, you couldn’t scare a baby if you tried.”
Dry leaves crunch under my feet. “Fine,” I say, lowering my voice. “Then I make you nervous.”
She swallows when her eyes level with mine. “Nobody makes me nervous.”
“Yeah?” I take a step closer and her foot hits a branch. She lets out a squeak when she topples, but my hand hooks around her waist. “Careful, Summer, or I might think your nervous.”
As soon as I smell her sweet scent, I hold her tighter. She’s close enough that something is happening to my chest. The sensation is so unsettling that I let her balance on her feet again.
She takes several steps back. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but that won’t work on me.” Summer pivots, stepping on a wedged rock. I know it’s a mistake as soon as she does. Her squeak cuts off when I catch her before she hits the ground.
“Ow, ow, ow.” She grabs her ankle, and her pained expression tells me she sprained something.
“You twisted it," I say, lifting her into my arms.
“I’m fi—fuck,” she curses. “You don’t have to carry me.” The words barely leave her mouth with how hard she clenches her teeth.
The guys are already a few feet ahead of us. “Is she okay?”
“I’ve got her.” I’m moving fast down the slope. Fast enough that Kilner would kill me for risking an injury. When we’re back on concrete, I spot the medical aid room, and Summer wraps her arms around my neck, closing her eyes in pain.
Inside, it’s run down and dirty. It’s an old place, so I’m surprised they even have a room.
“Do not put me on the dirty counter,” Summer warns. I pivot to grab a handful of paper towels to put under her. She’s watching me as I pull out the first aid kit, then take off her shoe and sock, trying to turn her ankle to see where it hurts.
“Fuck,” she hisses. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
I gentle my touch. “Sorry, just checking how bad it’s twisted.”
She tips her head back and groans. “I haven’t had enough caffeine today, and you’re giving me a headache.”
“I thought you didn't drink coffee.”
She massages her temples. “Chai. I need like two cups a day, more if I’m dealing with you.”
I ignore the remark and eye her high ponytail. Feeling brave, I pull her hair tie and let her soft brown waves fall around her shoulders. When she tries to snatch the hair tie, I slide it on my wrist. “Maybe you have a headache from your hair being in a death grip.”
“That’s how I like it,” she declares.
I raise my brows, making her roll her eyes. “I like it down.”
She snorts. “Good to know. I’ll throw out all my hair ties because Aiden Crawford likes it when girls wear their hair down.”
Wrapping the bandage around her ankle, I glance at her. “Not girls. You.”
Summer’s smugness slips off her face, and the crease between her brows deepens. I know her mind is working overtime, but the comment slipped off my tongue so quickly I couldn't stop it.
“Done,” I say coolly, dropping her leg. She immediately hops off, wincing when she lands on her foot. “Lay off of it for a bit.”
She attempts to hop away again, but I block her path. “Not happening. This is only going to work if you let me help you.
“Fine.” She lets me lift her again, soft hair dusting my arm. “Thanks.”
10 | SUMMER
FOR THE FIRST time in a long time, someone’s proud of me, and I don’t know how to act.
Dr. Müller hands my paper back. “This is great work, Summer. If you complete these tests and get some literature to back this up, they will beg you to join the co-op.”
I sigh with relief. It’s been stressful trying to get my paper structured, and knowing I’ve finally nailed it means I’m one step closer to achieving my goal. Dr. Langston’s emails have given me only negative feedback. I stopped by to see her today, but Dr. Müller, one of my favorite psychology professors, stopped me to chat.
“Would it be too much if I ran my final draft by you too?”
“Not at all, email or stop by my office. I’ll be happy to help. But shouldn’t you be running this by Laura? She’s ultimately the one to sign off on your project, not me.”
For this program, you can’t submit an application unless it’s given approval from your advisor. So, I couldn’t go behind Langston’s back and toss my name in the hat if she hated it. “I know. I just want to have more than one opinion.”
Müller agrees, and I ask him a few more questions, enjoying not feeling patronized, before I head out. Langston being the chair and on the admissions board doesn’t give me an advantage. The only reason she can do both is because she’s proved countless times that she is unbiased. I have a few more weeks until my application is due, so I'm looking at every possible angle to guarantee acceptance.
Donny made me nervous with his talk about the low percentage for acceptance each year and how my life will look worse than a pile-up on the I-95 if I don’t get in. He’s clearly great at pep talks.
My phone pings with a text from another one of my headaches.
Aiden
Aiden: I found handcuffs in your room.
Aiden: *sent an image*
I halt in the middle of the sidewalk when I see the picture of him smiling wide, standing in my room, holding a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. The mischievous glint in his eyes tells me he thinks they’re for something nefarious, not just last year’s Halloween costume.
A passerby knocks into me, snapping me out of my daze.
Summer: Why are you in my room?
Aiden: Practice ended early. Amara let me in before she left.
Summer: Don’t touch my stuff, and definitely don’t look in any more drawers.
Aiden: Too late. You’re kinkier than I thought, Preston.
Aiden: And your bed is super comfy. I’m exhausted, I think I’ll take a nap.
Aiden: Naked.
God, he is irritating. I make a mental note to buy a lock for my drawer in case the captain of the hockey team decides to snoop and some bleach to wash my sheets. Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I ignore the twitch of pain in my healing ankle when I sprint to my dorm.
Inside, I try to catch my breath, but it gets caught somewhere in my chest when I see Aiden in the kitchen. His blue Under Armour long sleeve outlines the movement of his back muscles so perfectly, I hate it.
The dip in my stomach reminds me of my high school boyfriend. Ryan was a year older than me.
I met him at the rink, where I skated while waiting for my dad to finish volunteering. I was in a Ryan-induced coma for those three months. However, I hated when he came to my house, because he would spend his time talking to my dad. Pretty soon, I realized he wasn’t dating me for me, he was dating me for my dad. Weird, but understandable, I guess, for a kid who had his sights set on the NHL
I didn’t learn my lesson because my prom date was another hockey player. He was popular and hot, so I said yes, like any sane teenage girl. At the after-party, we found ourselves in a hotel, and I prepared to lose my virginity that night. But the words that came out of his mouth had dried me up like a desert. “I can’t believe I’m fucking Lukas Preston’s daughter.” It was so revolting I grabbed my dress and got the hell out of there.
So, it’s safe to say hockey players have been off my radar. Completely.
But as Aiden Crawford stands in my kitchen with his killer smile and shining green eyes, I feel tempted to break that oath. I drop my keys on the counter as I watch him place a pot in the drying rack. The scene is so domestic I have the urge to pinch myself.
“That was fast,” he says, drying his hands with the dish towel.
My attention catches on the steaming cup on the counter. “What’s that?”
“For you.”
I peer into it. “You…made me tea?”
“You said you drink it twice a day more if you’re dealing with me, and I was already here.” He shrugs, and the air of nonchalance throws me off. “Didn’t know which one you liked, but I didn’t open this.” He lifts the green tin, and my heart stutters.
I lunge to snatch it from him and stash it back in the drawer. “Don’t touch that.”
He stands frozen. “You good?”
“Fine.”
“Fine?” he asks, incredulous. “You practically mauled me.”
Aiden waits for an explanation, and my shoulders tense. “My dad bought me this from a shop in Chicago when he traveled for work. It’s my favorite, and this is the last one I have.”
To escape the soft look in his eyes and his sympathetic nod, I bring the cup to my lips and take a sip. It’s a miracle how I hold in the noise that wants to escape when the taste hits my tongue. The strong cinnamon flavor and the overuse of honey coat my tongue in a bitter formula. But for some reason, probably because he looked so sweet providing the simple act of service, I can’t bring myself to say anything.
He made me tea.
Forest green eyes watch me. “Good?”
“It’s…it’s—yeah. It’s good.”
His eyes flicker, and the curve of his smile does something swirly to my chest before it starts to burn. Though that might be the spoonful of cinnamon I just ingested. With an itchy throat, I put the cup down. “I'm going to change. I’ll be right back.”
I’ve just slipped on a sweatshirt when a curse pulls me from my room. Aiden’s standing at the counter, my cup in hand and a look of disbelief on his face. “This is disgusting.” With a sour face, he places the cup in the sink. “It’s a good thing I already ordered you an actual drink and some food.”
“You didn’t have to do that. It wasn’t that bad.”
“Summer, it was so bad that you were being nice to me. That tells me everything I need to know.”
“Hey! I can be nice.” His barbed look irks me. “The only reason you’re here is because I was being nice by giving you a chance.”
“Yeah, after I begged you.”
“That’s what you call begging?”
His smirks, all too intrigued. “Wanna teach me? Maybe with those handcuffs…”
“They are not what you think they’re for.”
He nods with a suppressed smile. When his phone dings, he pulls it out. “Food’s here.”
When we’ve eaten, I hand him the assessments. The sooner he gets this done the sooner I can write my analysis.
“Are you done?” My impatience seeps into my tone.
“Almost. I wanna make sure I do it right.”
“It’s really not that difficult.”
A short beat passes before he sighs and his warm hand stops the anxious movements of my bouncing leg. “Summer, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” The exasperated look I give him makes him take a long look at me.
“I mean you’re irritable and have this faraway look like you’re stressing over a million things.”
“It’s nothing. Can we just get this done?”
He sits back and crosses his arms. “No.”
“No?” Did he not know how close I was to strangling someone? “This is not a good time to test me, Crawford.”
I clench my jaw as his gaze drags over my face in a slow assessment. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You know you’re not my captain, right? That whole demanding thing won’t work on me.”
He leans in, eating up my personal space. “Won’t it?”
The challenge in his eyes is clear, but I oblige. “Langston said my intro needs work, so I’m re-doing the entire thing, along with the methods section, because Donny thinks it’s missing something.”
“You’re just as smart as Donny. Smarter. Why does his opinion matter?”
Aiden’s dislike for Donny isn’t something he bothers to hide. And as much as I may feel the same, I’ve become so accustomed to Donny’s feedback, that I can’t imagine making a move without it. “Because he knows what he’s doing. Besides, there are only three of us eligible for co-op—Donny, Shannon, and me. I’m his competitor, yet he’s still willing to help. I have to be grateful for that.”
Aiden doesn’t comment, only shakes his head. “Okay, let me help you, too. You still have a few weeks, and I can read over your paper.”
I stare blankly. “No offense, but what do you know about psychology papers?”
“Nothing, considering I’m an Econ major, but sometimes an extra pair of eyes can help.”
His earnest look kindles a warmth in my stomach. “That is really nice of you.”
“Don’t be fooled, I’ve been told I’m an asshole.”
“WHO’S SHE?” AIDEN asks.
He pestered me into taking a break, so I put on a my favorite Turkish drama to spite him. Turns out he loves it.
“That’s his ex-girlfriend. She doesn’t know about the fake engagement,” I explain.
“Shit, she’s going to see the contract.” Aiden nudges me in excitement.
The suspenseful music builds, and we wait for the big reveal. We’re sitting on the edge of the couch, the sides of our legs pressed together. Then the credits roll.
“Seriously?” Aiden groans.
“That’s how they get you.”
He’s collecting our empty containers when he chuckles. “I’m starting to get your whole stay inside and not have a life thing. It’s kind of fun.”
I scoff. “I have a life, asshole. In fact, I met up with someone last week,” I lie. Well, not entirely. Connor sat with me in the cafeteria. It’s the closest thing to a date I’ve had all year. Pathetic, I know.
