I try to block his words out as I slip from the arena, my eyes on my car when I pass another body. I stop, blinking at Harlow's scowl.
"What are you looking at?" she flicks her hair over her shoulder, the blonde strands looking freshly done.
I know I shouldn't ask her, that she's not the most reliable source to ask but I can't help myself. I need to know.
"Does the hockey team have a . . . game going on with the other university-"
She cuts me off. "With Dains team?" She rolls her eyes. "You're not talking about that game, are you?" She flicks her chin to the arena and with a shake of her head continues. "Everyone knows about the other game, why do you think they throw so many parties?" She smirks when she sees my face. "Well, I guess almost everyone, the points are tallied up each quarter, to see who won. It started two years ago and still goes on now."
"What type of game is it?"
"Points game based on how many girls the hockey team sleep with. Points vary depending on what and where the action takes place." She raises a brow. "There's a whole site dedicated to it."
I blink and take a step back, searching for my car again.
She pouts, the move full of fake sympathy. "Oh, did one of the hockey boys lead you on again? Thought you would've learnt from Dain." She blinks. "Go on the site if you don't believe me.Players of Halliwell. Password to enter is whoever is in top spot right now."
I pause, "And who is that?"
She takes a second to answer and for a second, I dread the name. "Justin Leeds."
Chapter 31
Tip thirty-one; if it starts as a deal, don't be surprised when it stops feeling like one.
Ivy
Isit in my car, the heater blasting against the cold that seeps into every corner.
My hands tremble as they clutch my phone, Harlow’s words echoing like a cruel joke.
I open the browser, type in the site she mentioned, and pause at the login prompt.
My fingers hover over the keypad.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I enter 'Justin Leeds' as the password. The site loads, displaying a leaderboard filled with names and . . . points. A grotesque scorecard of sorts.
Justin's name and face are at the top of the list, his team photo used to identify him. I scroll down, brows drawn in when I see my brother's name and then, below it, Asher Hudson's.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a slight second before springing them open and moving to the drop-down menu for the list of submissions.
Asher's name pops up straight away, highlighted in bold from a story submitted a few months ago.
After one of the team parties.
I glance over the words, not really reading them but seeing the points added to his tally.Fifty.
There's another under it, and another, and another. Each story gaining him more and more points and then there, an entry submitted only a few days ago, a story about Asherscoringin the local library. Submitted anonymously.
My name isn't mentioned but the things we did. The things I let him do-
I choke on the breath I suck in, logging out of the site and locking my phone.
But you know what they say about curiosity. I log back in and go to the search bar, biting my lip hard until I taste blood as I type inmyname.
And there it is. Ivy Collins, highlighted just like Asher's was.
I stare at the submission, the words blurring as I scrape over each morsel of information with my eyes until I reach the name at the end. Who submitted it.
