Playing for Real - Book 2

Chapter 4

Quinn

"Come to the bonfire with us tonight." Nadia, a classmate, walks across the campus lawn with me. We've finished a challenging group project together, and one of our classmates is hosting a party at his place to celebrate. When I hesitate, she adds, "Don't think of saying no. I'll bet you haven't been out once since orientation."

Nadia was the first female friend I made at Harvard. We met the weekend before classes started during an orientation event. She was standing next to me at a cocktail party and talked my ear off about her impressions of...well, everything. I immediately loved her outgoing and bubbly personality because she reminded me of Lyndsey. We hit it off right away. She is one of those girls who speaks her mind and doesn't care what anyone thinks. She's opinionated, ballsy, and wicked smart.

Aiden, walking on my other side, looks over at me.

"What time does it start?" I ask.

She takes this as a yes. "Great! It's in a few hours. How about I come to your place and hang out until then?" She turns to Aiden. "Do you have any booze?"

He nods. "Sure. I've got a few beers in the fridge."

I let out a groan of surrender. "Okay, fine. I'm not staying too late, though. I want to start the reading for the next case study."

Laughing, she asks, "Tonight?"

"I know it's dorky, but I'm excited to dive into the next topic."

"Then you need to celebrate with us tonight," Aiden insists, "We promise you'll have an awesome time. And if you want to leave early, I'll go home with you, and we can dig into that reading together."

"Think I will be the soberest person there?" I ask.

"Probably," Aiden admits. "But I know you will also be the hottest."

"Hey!" Nadia shoves his shoulder.

"Okay, okay, I lied," Aiden says. "You will be tied for hottest with Nadia.".

"That's better." She smirks at him.

I shrug. "Fine. You guys have yourself a deal. I'll come."

____________

The party wasn't exactly what I expected. It's at a big house minutes from campus, filled with a few poverty-level graduate students but many younger undergrads. Alcohol bottles litter every open surface. Music blares from two speakers on the opposite ends of a stained futon. People are everywhere holding red Solo cups. Most guys are wearing what would be considered preppy attire, and most girls are dressed in what could be considered child-sized clothes. The coffee table looks like it's seen better days. There are dents in the wood legs, and the tabletop has water stains all over it. This party is not my scene, but Nadia is completely enthralled when she sees a group of shirtless guys doing a keg-stand.

Aiden, meanwhile, could be more readable. When some guy I've never seen before greets him and hands him a beer, he disappears into the swarm of warm bodies.

Nadia bounces a little and then reaches for my hand, squeezing it. "I'm so glad you finally came out! I know you'll opt for a ginger ale, but I need something hard to drink. And fast."

She pulls me through the crowd, and we enter the kitchen. We squeeze through a cluster of guys shouting at a television propped against the wall behind the kitchen table. My head turns to the familiar sound of skates slicing and tangled sticks.

I let go of Nadia's hand, and my stomach twists. There he is, covering virtually every inch of that ice in a Tornadoes jersey—strong build, aggressively wild. Cash Brooks mocks me through the flat screen. I played you, Mittens. Just like every other puck bunny...