“Yeah, and everyone is tight-lipped about it, so I couldn’t even get any dirt,” Mason replied.
“I wanna know why you put money in the pot,” Aaron added as he walked in, catching the tail end of the question.
Drew and the other guys had come in having conversations but stopped when they heard Aaron’s question. They were nosey motherfuckers. I understood why they were so fascinated by this, though. Unless it was Friday night, I’d never been one to skip a party. I’d never put money in the dibs bin. Anyone who’d been at Prescott’s party already knew, but Mason was right. People had been tight-lipped about Lyla and me. It was shocking and nice to know that the people Prescott vetted were loyal and followed his rules. Lyla hadn’t given me the green light to tell people about us, but it was thelastfreaking day. It was my last day to talk shit with these guys and I wanted them to know. Besides, she would give me a name and tell me everything in detail after we won the game. What did it matter if I told my teammates just a few hours before then? What was said in this locker room always stayed here, so fuck it.
“I have a girlfriend,” I said.
I’d never said that aloud. Lyla had never said it aloud either. It seemed like such a dumb term, but it was the only way to describe what we had in a way people could understand. She was mine, and I was hers, period. So, if the term girlfriend explained that, I’d stick with it. I wasn’t surprised to see every single one of their jaws drop — everyone besides Prescott and Drew.
“Who?!” a few of them asked in unison.
“Ho-ly shit.” That was Mason.
I laughed and shook my head. The coaches were standing by the door with a couple of men who might as well be on the coaching staff, as much as they were around. They were cool, though, so I didn’t mind them hearing. Prescott seemed on edge from the beginning of the conversation, though, and I wondered if he’d go tell Lyla I did this. It didn’t matter.
“Did I just hear that Lachlan Duke has a fucking girlfriend?” Coach Rob asked loudly as the rest of them laughed.
“You did.”
“No fucking way.” That was Tucker, our goalie.
I shrugged.
“Who is it?” One of them said.
“You can’t drop some shit like this and not tell us.”
“Oh shit. I know who it is,” Mason said, eyes dancing.
“Who?” everyone shouted.
“Can I tell them?” he asked.
I shrugged. It was going to get out after the game, when I picked her up and kissed the fuck out of her in the middle of the ice, in front of everyone anyway.
“Lyla Marichal,” Mason announced, like she was about to walk into the room.
“Daaaaamn,” one of them said.
“You always get the hot ones,” another added. I couldn’t argue there.
“The one who wears all the baggy clothes and shit?” one asked.
That one made me laugh. I answered no questions. I didn’t need to. Even though they hadn’t heard what happened at Prescott’s party, rumors had already spread like wildfire from the previous one where I’d almost fought Mase. I wasn’t sure whether or not she knew. I had a feeling that if she found out people were talking about us together, she would have tried to get us to hold off on seeing each other. No way I was going to let that happen. I kept packing my shit, as I listened to them go on and on about the women who talked shit about Lyla because they were jealous of her. I didn’t like to hear that, but I knew it made no difference to her. Lyla didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of her.
* * *
I convinced the coach to let me drive to the game. He’d agreed and let a few of us take our own cars. We’d been following each other during the drive, but at some point, everyone scattered in the darkness and rain on the way. I was sitting in my car, calling Lyla before I went inside. She’d told me she’d be at this game, and I wanted to ensure she wouldn’t drive alone. The call went straight to voicemail. She could have been driving Marissa and Banks today. When he took us home last time, she’d complained about him getting too close to the cars in front of us. I wouldn’t put it past her to be the driver. The thought of her out in these conditions worried me even more. She was an excellent driver, but she’d told me it had been raining the night her mom died. Even though she’d found a way to numb herself to those feelings, I couldn’t imagine it wouldn’t cross her mind. I called again — straight to voicemail. I sent her a text.
Me: text me when you get here
I waited another minute, looked at the time, and got out of the car. She’d text while I was changing. As I walked toward the arena, I kept looking at my phone just in case. While I looked down, I saw my shoes had become untied, so I set my phone in my pocket and knelt. I heard something shift behind me as I tied my shoe, but I ignored it. After that, everything went black.
CHAPTER20
LYLA
I should have never been socareless driving here and letting Marissa and Banks go ahead without me. They were waiting for me in the parking lot, but still. Driving separately meant I was forced to park further away than I’d liked. It also meant that I’d have to walk alone. All day, I’d had the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach. Marissa brushed it off when I mentioned it, but the feeling remained. Mom’s book about trusting your instincts hummed in the back of my mind. Of course, she’d given it to me years too late. I knew that when I read the chapter about not trusting anyone. The smell of cigarettes hit me and my stomach instantly coiled. I walked faster and continued looking over my shoulder as dread continued to build in my chest. I crossed my arms and clutched my phone for comfort. The parking lot was mostly deserted — everyone was already inside as they got ready for the hockey game.
