I glance over and see Alex Smith, one of our junior defensemen, doubled over in the bushes retching. Coach is going to be pissed.
“I’ll do it.” I say with a shrug. “As long as someone gets Smith home safe tonight.”
Ryan nods and waves toward the keg. I’m pretty good at keg stands. I put the nozzle in my mouth and place my hands on the metal handles on each side and hoist myself up. Of course, I forgot that I’m essentially wearing a skirt, and it flutters over my head, blocking my vision, but I start chugging the liquid and foam anyway.
“For fuck’s sake, Brantley. No one wants to see that.” I recognize Lincoln’s voice.
The nozzle drops from my mouth as I snort a laugh, and the carbonation goes up my nose.
“Seriously, cut it out. You’re defiling someone’s grave,” Link snaps.
I try to land gracefully, but the fabric of my costume catches under my foot, and I fall onto my ass in the grass. I rub my nose, wincing at the burn, and stare up at Lincoln, who's glaring at me.
“What?” I ask, looking around. Trey is laughing so hard, he’s gasping, and the other guys look just as amused. I grin proudly.
“Hockey players are idiots,” Link mutters. “Don’t let me catch you doing that again. You could have broken your neck.”
I smile at him sweetly but comply. It is his party, after all. “Yes, Daddy.”
Lincoln storms off, and my eyes catch on a girl in the crowd. She’s fucking gorgeous, and she’s giving me an intensely judgy stare. In the dim twinkle lights, I can’t see the color of her eyes, but they’re dark and alluring and thoroughly disgusted. She’s also wearing the exact same costume I am, though it looks incredible on her, hugging every curve of her pale skin.
I give her my most disarming smile, climb to my feet, and walk over. “Well, this is embarrassing.”
“What you just did? It sure was.”
I smile wider at her snark.“I mean that we’re dressed alike. Isn’t that a party foul or something?”
“Are you wearing braided earmuffs?” she asks, reaching up to touch them.
“Are you?” I ask, touching her back. My fingertips graze over the intricate auburn hair space buns.
She steps back, eyeing me suspiciously. “You should really ask consent before you touch a girl.”
“You’re right, actually. I’m sorry.” She seems angry, but her gaze softens when she sees my embarrassment. I start to ramble to hide my discomfort. I feel so awkward around her all of a sudden. I’m hardly ever awkward. “I’ve learned a lot about women just tonight, you know. You wouldn’t believe the catcalls and sexual comments.” I huff. “Men are pigs.”
She bursts out laughing, and the sound makes my stomach bottom out. I drop my hand to my abs self-consciously. She raises her cup with a wink, and I follow suit, knocking her drink with mine.
“I’m Fiona Flowers,” she says. “And you are?”
“Brantley.”
“Enjoy the party, Brantley.”
Then she walks away. I watch her leave in awe just as Mason approaches and slaps me on the back.
“In case you were wondering, she wore it better,” he snarks.
I elbow him, and we walk back to our teammates.
I watch Fiona Flowers all night, and I don’t think I’m particularly subtle about it, but it’s hard to tell because the alcohol is making my head fuzzy. The party’s winding down when a guy approaches her and whispers something in her ear. Fiona glares at him and shakes her head. She’s had a lot to drink too, and she’s gotten a bit louder and handsier as the night’s gone on, but I can tell she just set a boundary with this guy. As the song slows, he reaches for her waist anyway, and Fiona pushes his hands away.
The move awakens the alpha douche in me, and I set my beer down on the nearest rock.
“What’re you doing?” Mason asks as I stride toward them.
“I’ll just be right back,” I growl.
“Brantley…” His voice holds a note of warning, but I ignore it. I’m a badass hockey player. What could go wrong?
