I blink, guarded. “Yeah.”
His grin widens. “I knew it. I went to CSU—well, I’m still there. But my sister is playing ball in highschool, and she’s obsessed with you. She made me watch highlights.”
I stare. “That’s…unfortunate.”
He laughs. “It was actually kind of impressive. You’re a menace.”
I don’t smile, but the wordmenaceis at least nothospice, so my brain clings to it like a lifeline.
“What’s your name?” I ask, mostly to be polite.
“Ethan,” he says. “I’m friends with a few of the hockey guys. I’m here with”—he gestures vaguely—“everyone.”
“Great,” I deadpan.
He laughs again, undeterred. “You don’t look like you want to be here.”
I glance toward Blakely, who is watching me with a careful expression, like she’s assessing whether I’m about to bolt.
“I don’t,” I admit.
Ethan’s eyes soften. “Bad week?”
The question lands wrong.
My throat tightens.
I lift my chin. “Just busy.”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding like he understands. “I get that.”
He’s quiet for a beat, then adds, “You want to get out of the kitchen? It’s like…a sauna in here.”
The suggestion is tempting purely because air sounds like a luxury.
Before I can answer, Jade reappears, shoving a water bottle into my hand like she’s trained for this. “Hydrate,” she orders, then gives Ethan a bright smile. “Hi! Don’t steal her.”
Ethan lifts his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Jade’s eyes flick to mine, questioning.
I nod once, small.
Jade relaxes, then nudges Blakely. “Come on. Let’s go pretend we care about beer pong.”
Blakely hesitates, but I give her a look that saysI’m okay,even if it’s only half true.
They melt into the crowd, leaving me with Ethan and my water bottle and the faint sense that I’m making a mistake.
Ethan leans closer again. “Backyard? There’s a firepit. Less…chaos.”
I inhale. Cold air. Space. Quiet.
“Sure,” I say, because my brain is tired of saying no.
He gestures for me to go first, and we weave through bodies toward the back door. The air shifts as soon as we step outside—cold night hitting my cheeks, clearing the fog in my head for half a second.
The backyard is strung with lights. People cluster around a firepit, laughing, holding drinks, wrapped in the kind of careless warmth I can’t access right now.
