He waves me off, snickering. "Oh, come on, dude. You know we couldn't stay. Somebody had to make sure the party didn't die before it even started. You can't just trust the rookies to handle pregame—those kids think 'party mix' means trail mix."
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. "Right. My bad for thinking teamwork extends off the ice."
"Exactly," he says, completely missing the sarcasm. "Besides, Hopper didn't kill you, so I'd say you survived."
I arch a brow. "Barely. Where is everyone?"
Liam squints, scanning the chaos around us.
"Let's see... Cody's probably banging some chick in the bathroom—again. Elijah's..." He points toward the patio, nearly spilling his drink. "Right there. Surrounded by bunnies. I think the man's on a mission tonight. Dude needs to get laid before he starts naming his hockey stick out of loneliness."
I snort. "That's tragic."
"Tell me about it," he says, then lowers his voice in mock seriousness. "Kentaro? Locked in his room as usual, probably journaling about inner peace or whatever Zen crap he's into now."
"Sounds about right. And your brother?"
Liam's grin turns downright wicked. "Luke? Upstairs. Hot tub. Buck naked. With, like, three of his bunnies.You know how my twin likes to party."
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. "Of course he does."
Because of course he does. If there's an award for "Most Likely to Turn a Dorm into Vegas," Luke would win it every damn time.
He laughs, slinging his arm tighter around me. "Hey, don't act surprised, man. It's Sunday at The Pond—saints don't last long here."
I shake my head, still laughing because, yeah—Liam's right. Sunday nights here always get a little unhinged.
I turn back toward the dance floor, still chuckling—only to have it die in my throat.
There she is, still dancing... but not with just anyone. It's Adam fucking Klein. Again.
Are you kidding me?
When did that guy even get here? Has he been here the whole time? How long has that been going on? My eyes narrow like I've got a built-in jealousy microscope.
Where the hell is my sister? Wasn't she supposed to be watching Caroline?
A groan slips out.
Liam follows my dead-eye stare and snickers. "Oh shit, man. I think somebody's trying to steal your girl."
I cock my head at him, glowering. "You think?"
I roll my shoulders, crack my neck and knuckles. Time to move. I march down there on a mission—because yeah, it's a mission keeping this dumbass away from my girl, especially when he's looking at her like that.
Ugh. I want to give him a one-minute masterclass called Hands Off, Pal.
I cut through the crowd, doubling my pace. He twirls her—she laughs—and my jaw clenches so tight it could break a mouthguard.
Then she stumbles.
And before my brain even registers it, my body moves. One second she's spinning, the next she's crashing right into me.
My arms shoot out, catching her before she falls.
For a split second, the world goes quiet. Just her heartbeat against my chest, her breath catching, my hands steady on her waist.
She fits perfectly—like she always has. Like the universe keeps handing me these moments to remind me exactly what home feels like.
