He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah. They do that.” There’s a low irritation to his tone, and I wonder if he gets tired of it. The spectacle. I suppose he knew what he was getting into, but then again, did he? Or did he just find hockey to be that thing he could turn some parts of his brain off for like I could when I picked up a fantasy novel?
A surge of unexpected empathy beats through me.
“Were you drinking?” Faust presses, like it’s important.
I frown at him. “Does it matter? I’m twenty-one.”
“I’m not a cop,” he says, “and the drinking age here is nineteen, remember?” A slight smile tugs at his beautiful lips. They’re puffy and pink and I want to touch them but I force the thought from my mind. Errant fucking is what got me into this mess and I’m sure if Faust knew all the details about me and my tendencies, he wouldn’t want to touch me with a ten-foot pole.
The first name I ever remember being called was in middle school. Even Nolan knew better than to use names when he was gently chiding me to refrain from dessert or not eat so much of a portion it hurt.
Jemma Knowles taunted me with “Slut D” because she said my mom was a prostitute and that’s how she was able to bring up me and Nolan on her own.
It wasn’t true, either the insult or the accusation toward Mom, but it didn’t matter. She did it in front of the entire classwhen the teacher went out for some break or another, and the words hurt for reasons I didn’t understand. At that point I’d only ever kissed my neighbor in a shy game of make-believe, but everyone oohed and ahhed all the same at Jemma’s words, and boys gave me attention after that.
Not because they liked me, but because of what they thought I might do for them. What Ididend up doing.
I liked the attention.
I didn’t like the way it left me hollow in the aftermath.
That’s how I learned to turn off my feelings.
“What did you drink?” Faust quietly presses, but it doesn’t sound urgent. Just casual, as if he’s making conversation. Whether he is or isn’t, his tone makes me feel slightly more relaxed. Not how Nolan’s does when he prattles on about the calories in alcohol.
I lift my chin and answer Faust. “Rum and Diet Coke.”
He makes no reaction whatsoever to my answer, aside from staring into my eyes without blinking.
“Really,” I tell him, attempting to take his dark-eyed spotlight off me. “You did…reallygood.”
“Really?” There’s a spark in his gaze as he asks it, like he’s mocking me.
I roll my eyes and push my hands deep into the pockets of my coat. “Shut up,” I mutter under my breath.
“Okay.” He shrugs, his broad shoulders tightening under his sweater as he does.
I frown, not wanting him to actually shut up; he doesn’t speak enough as is, unlike Sylvan who can’t seem to stop.
“Do you know he came by yesterday?” I ask as I think of the right winger. “To my apartment? Your little buddy?” He’s definitely not little, but he’s a brat. And he’s the reason I’m still here.
Faust’s jaw tightens, and he doesn’t answer. He just asks, “Can I speak now?” It’s such a serious tone, it almost makes me laugh out loud, but I hold it in, suddenly unsure if maybe people told him to shut up a lot when he was a kid or if he has an abusive parent or… Fuck, I’m spiraling.
Overthinking.
This is exactly why I enjoy drinking. It stops all of that. Like cutting out the white noise and replacing it with fun.
“Please,” I say quietly, answering Faust’s question.
I watch his throat roll above his collar as he swallows, and my heart races hard in my chest.
“He didn’t tell me what you talked about.” The captain’s answer is so soft and full of what sounds like genuine confusion, I find myself taking an involuntary step toward him. In heels, we’re closer in height, but I still have to tilt my head and look up a little to meet his dark gaze.
His pulse is beating in his throat, just above the gold and silver chains, and I want to run my fingers over them because I’m not immune to shiny things, but I don’t dare touch him.
The last time I did that, a few minutes later, we found a dead body.
I push my tongue behind my top teeth as if the action will force the memory away.
