Page 15 of Lucky Hit


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EIGHT

OCTAVIA

Irun into the apartment and head straight for my cramped closet. The celebratory party tonight is being held at Adam's house. As usual, his parents aren’t home. And while I guess it's great for the team, I can't help but feel for Adam. I know what it's like to be lonely, and I know he is. Whether he chooses ever to admit it or not.

Luckily, my constant need to prepare for everything has saved me from a night of flying clothes and frustrated groans. I thought ahead and planned my outfit before we left for the game.

I slip a black bralette over my head, the lacey material scratching my skin. I pull the off-the-shoulder, cropped shirt on and tug on high-waisted leather pants, which—according to Morgan—help accentuate whatever curves I have.

"Looking totally do-able, girl. Loverboy won't be able to keep his hot self-off of you," Morgan states happily, strolling into my room. I shrug her off and lace up my strappy heels. Now wouldn't that be something?

"Now c'mon. Tell me how I look." Morgan does a twirl in front of me and I sigh. It's times like these that I am completely and utterly jealous of her.

She's wearing an oversized Metallica shirt with frayed shorts that show off her slim, tanned legs. Black thigh-highs and an oversized jean jacket finish the look.

"Do you even need my validation?" I raise a brow and watch her give herself another once over in the mirror.

"You're right. I know I look hot."

Her confidence never ceases to amaze me.

"I need to do a shot before we leave," I declare with a huff. Heading into the kitchen, I pour both of us a shot of Tequila.

"We're all meeting at Adam's. Do you still have clothes there or do you need to grab some?" Morgan asks. Usually, we all end up crashing in one of the spare rooms after a team party.

"I should have some still. If not I'll just steal Adam's. You ready?"

"I was born ready." I lock the front door behind us with a grin and link arms with Morgan as we head downstairs to our Uber.

???

When we arrive, the music is so loud I can feel the bass pulsing in the soles of my feet through the concrete as soon as we step out of the car. I look up the winding driveway and feel my jaw slack. The sight of Adam's parents' mansion never fails to amaze me.

Floor to ceiling windows, tall, strong arches covering the exaggerated cobblestone walkway, and elaborate filled flower boxes that would make any florists mouth water. The house is a sight to see, that’s for sure.

Now my parent's house is by no means small. It's quite large compared to most homes, but they decided that they would rather spend their money on my brother and me rather than having a bunch of unnecessary valuables and decor. To each their own, I suppose.

We walk past the countless drunks who are already throwing up and stumbling around in the well-groomed bushes. The frat boys are playing beer pong on one of the large white tables scattered along the driveway, making me cringe.

"To the kitchen!" I yell over the music as we fight our way out of the sticky crowd. I have to force myself to keep walking and not turn and run while I still have the chance. I always forget how much I dislike these parties until I'm dragged into one.

After an awful lot of struggling, we make it to the kitchen.

"Finally! I almost suffocated in that damn crowd. I need a drink."

Morgan heads off to the drink table while I look around. I spot a grinning Adam leaning against the back wall and wave.

Of all people, it would be Adam that would wear a hoodie at least one size too small and cargo shorts to his own party.

His dark brown hair is hidden under a tight fitted baseball cap as his shining chocolate eyes light up when they meet mine.

Morgan hands me a cup full of what smells like a vodka drink as we head towards our friends. Matt greets his girlfriend by pulling her into him and whispering something in her ear, making her face turn bright red.

"Damn, sexy. What's your name? Do I know you?" Adam asks with a smirk and trails his hand down my back. I roll my eyes but decide to go along with his little game.

"Oh, my God! Are you Adam White? The starting left-winger on the Saints? I just loved you in tonight's game." I twirl a lock of hair around my finger and his smirk turns into a grin. I reach out and grab his massive bicep, squeezing the hard muscles twice.

"You had me at the beginning. But no puck bunny would know that much about hockey. Solid effort, though, babe." He pulls me in for a hug, and I lean into him without hesitation.

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