And just like that, my pulse kicked up like I'd chugged three energy drinks in a row. I spent hours with her earlier, driving back from Naples to Miami, but apparently my brain doesn't care. I'm already itching to see her again.
And yeah, maybe there's another reason I'm hurrying. Because after that little stunt last night, I have no idea what those crazy hockey bunnies are planning to do to my girl. Half of them are probablyready to eat her aliveby now.
That's why I put my sister on babysitting duty.
Sam's the only one they're actually scared of. I told her,"Use violence if necessary."She just cracked her knuckles and said,"Gladly."
So yeah. I'm safe knowing Caroline's under the watchful eye of my tiny, terrifying sister... for now.
I just hope I get there before the bunnies try anything stupid.
Ten minutes later, I'm pulling up in front of the Pond. The house looks like it's hosting half the damn campus again. The bass is thumping so hard the windows are practically vibrating.
A couple of guys are standing by the porch, red Solo cups in hand, talking way too loud over the noise. Someone's got a cigarette dangling from their lips, smoke curling lazily into the chilly night air.
Groups of students stream in and out of the house, laughing, shouting, clinging to each other for balance. A few are sitting on the hood of a car parked out front, passing around a beer like it's a holy relic.
Yeah. Just another Sunday night at Ridgewater's favorite zoo.
The Pond's chaos is kind of a given—music blasting, people yelling, half the campus crammed inside.
When the hockey guys throw a party, people just... show up. Doesn't matter what day it is; there's always a crowd.
I hop out, shut the door, and head toward the porch.
Guys nod at me as I pass, offering fist bumps or quick "Westbrook!" shout-outs. I give them a few nods back. Then come the girls—smiling, waving, calling my name like it's bait.
But I don't bite. I barely glance their way.
Because right now, I've only got one goal—findher.
It takes me all of three seconds to find her.
Which shouldn't even be possible with this crowd—people everywhere, bodies moving, lights flashing like a fever dream. But somehow, it's like there's this invisible thread between us, tugging me straight to her. My own personal compass.
And there she is.
Right in the middle of it all.
Hair tumbling over her shoulders, eyes closed, a loose smile on her lips. She's laughing, swaying to the beat like the music runs through her veins. She doesn't notice me—and I don't even try to move closer.
I just stand there, taking her in.
There's something about seeing her like this—unguarded, unbothered,happy.The kind of happy that hits you right in the chest and stays there.
My pulse stumbles. My breath does that stupid hitch thing again.
And I swear, if hearts could short-circuit, mine would've fried on the spot. Because damn... I'm so gone for this girl. Like, completely, irreversibly gone.
"Omph—Jesus," I grunt as something heavy slams into my side.
Whatever calm, heart-eyed haze I was just in? Gone. Obliterated.
I stumble half a step before realizing it's Liam, grinning ear to ear, one arm slung around my shoulder and the other clutching a red cup filled with Jungle Juice—the mysterious everything-mixed-in-a-cooler classic.
"Man, you're finally back!" he says, voice a notch too loud. He takes a heroic sip—then winces like whatever he mixed is fighting for its life. "How was cleaning duty?"
"Yeah, it went great," I mutter, still steadying myself. "Thanks for not helping."
