"Honey," Delaney says, patting my knee patronizingly, "no guy looks at his 'just friend' the way Blackwood looks at you. Like he wants to fucking consume every bit of you."
The whiskey suddenly feels warmer in my stomach, spreading heat through my limbs.
I take another swig from the flask, liquid courage burning down my throat. Maybe it's the Fireball or the way Delaney's looking at me like she can see right through my bullshit, but suddenly I feel like I might explode if I don't tell someone.
"Okay, fine. I kissed him," I blurt out, immediately covering my face with my hands. "Last week. In his bathroom after spa night."
Demi squeals so loud a couple heads turn our way. "I fucking knew it! How was it? Is he good? He looks like he'd be good."
I peek through my fingers, feeling my face burn hotter than the whiskey. "It was...fucking incredible. Like toe-curling, mind-melting good. And that was just kissing."
I hesitate, then decide, fuck it. These girls don't know me, don't know us. Maybe that's exactly what I need right now—an outside perspective.
"I made this bucket list," I explain, lowering my voice. "Just stuff I want to do, experience. Things I've been too scared to try. And kissing him was number one."
"What else is on this magical list?" Delaney's eyes light up with mischief.
"Swimming at midnight, getting a tattoo, riding a motorcycle myself," I tick off on my fingers. "Having sex—like, really good sex. Being chased. Finding something worth breaking rules for."
"And Ramsey's going to help you with all this?" Demi's eyebrows shoot up.
I nod, feeling a rush of excitement just thinking about it. "He said we'd do them all together. That he didn't trust anyone else with me."
"Girl." Demi grabs my arm, shaking me slightly. "You need to climb that tree as soon as fucking possible. Why wait? The man is a fucking redwood, and you're over here making lists when you should be making babies."
Delaney doesn't laugh with her cousin. Instead, she's watching me with an intensity that reminds me suddenly of Copeland.
"You can say all you want that you're just besties and roommates," she says finally, her voice dropping to something more serious, "but I'm telling you right now, that boy rises and sets on your ass. So just be careful with your list."
I blink at her, caught off guard by the shift in tone. "Careful how?"
Delaney's eyes drift to where Copeland is now.
"Guys like him and Copeland, they have darkness in them," she says quietly. "Urges and needs that push boundaries. They're not like regular guys who just want to fuck and cuddle. They want to possess. Control. Own."
A shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the arena's chill. "What do you mean?"
She leans closer, her voice dropping even lower. "I've seen the way Blackwood watches you when you're not looking. Like you're oxygen and he's been drowning his whole life. That kind of need...it's not normal. It's obsessive."
"He's just protective," I argue, but my voice lacks conviction.
"Protective?" Delaney snorts. "Honey, there's protective and then there's whatever the fuck that is. Does he know where you are at all times? Does he check in when you're out without him? Has he ever scared off guys who were interested in you?"
"Holy shit," I whisper, realization dawning. "You think he's…like obsessed obsessed with me?"
"I don't think, I know," Delaney says firmly. "I recognize it because I live with it every day." Her eyes flick to Copeland again, something complicated passing over her face. "The question isn't whether he's obsessed. It's whether you're okay with it."
"I've known Ramsey forever," I say, but my voice sounds uncertain even to my own ears. "He'd never hurt me."
"Not physically, maybe," Delaney agrees. "But emotionally? Psychologically? Those types of men devour you until there's nothing left that isn't marked by them."
I watch Ramsey with new eyes as he dominates the ice, his body a weapon of precise destruction. I've always known he was intense, protective, possessive a little bit even. But obsessed? The word feels both terrifying and thrilling.
"You're not scared?" I ask during a break in play.
Delaney gives me a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Of Copeland? Terrified. Turned on. Both. It's fucked up."
"And you stay anyway?"
