Page 161 of Top Shelf

Not possible, Little Serpent.

Silas

Let us know when you’re home.

Smiling to myself, I grab my things and head out. Despite my thick coat and the layers I’m wearing, there is a cold bite in the air that instantly chills my skin as I step into the night.

Campus is quiet at this hour as I cut across the main quad toward my apartment. I’m lost in my head, going through my mental to-do list for tomorrow, and a little bit regretting not telling the guys I’d stay at theirs tonight. I stay there most nights, or they stay at mine, but I’d told them I wanted a night alone tonight. I’d planned to call Dylan. We’ve both been so busy with senior year and our hockey schedules that we’ve barely talked lately. Except it’s now too late for that.

A voice stops me halfway across the lawn.

“Wren.”

I recognize it instantly as Isaac’s. He emerges from an adjoining pathway, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

I force a polite smile. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

“You working late?” he asks, lifting his chin toward the rink behind me and ignoring my question.

“Yeah, they have me helping with playoff events.” My statement is followed by an awkward silence. “Anyway,” I draw the word out as I move to step past him, sucking my lower lip between my teeth as I go. “The guys are waiting on me.”

I can’t quite put my finger on why I lie to him. I think everywoman out there can point to an instance in their life when, for no real reason at all, they have felt uncomfortable enough to stick their keys between their fingers or pretend to be talking to someone on the phone because they have this little inkling of suspicion that something doesn’t feel right. A sixth sense, be it right or wrong.

That’s what this is—a tingle of awareness.

Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me. Maybe it’s because he’s alone.

Maybe it’s because I’ve spent enough time around hockey players to recognize alcohol when I smell it.

Whatever it is, my shoulders are tense.

And they only grow stiffer as Isaac shifts closer.

“Right.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “The four of you are a thing now, huh?”

“Umm—”

“You know,” Isaac continues, “I always thought you’d say yes eventually.”

I blink, struggling to wrap my head around where this is going. “What?”

He laughs. A short, humorless sound. “When I asked you out.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” I say automatically, although what the fuck am I apologizing for? I didn’t do anything wrong. Just like he has the right to ask me out, I have the right to refuse. Still, they are the first words that come to mind to diffuse the tension rapidly gathering in the air between us.

“I tried,” he goes on, as though I had never spoken. “Being patient.” He barks a cold laugh. “Which, you know, really isn’t my strong suit.”

I shift my weight, casting a surreptitious glance around us. I feel seriously fucking uncomfortable.

“Isaac—”

“No, seriously.” His voice sharpens. “I don’t get it.”

There’s a bitterness to his tone.

“Is it because there are three of them? You’re such a hoe that you need three dicks to keep you satisfied?” That little niggle in the back of my mind becomes a blaring alarm when Isaac moves closer. It’s a small movement, but my body reacts instantly as the scent of alcohol hits me. Every muscle tightens. “Because if a gang bang is your thing, I can round up some buddies, some guys from the team, and we’ll fuck you so good you won’t be walking for the next week.”