Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
— Shawn Drayton
Comments:
“We all have a past. It doesn’t define you, Shawn. What you’re doing now is what counts. Stay focused and keep showing us what you’re made of on the ice!”
“Classic PR move. Say the right words, and hope everyone moves on. Maybe focus on your hockey instead of your ‘past choices’ next time.”
“Not buying it. This is just damage control because the photos went public. Should’ve cleaned up your act before it got to this point.”
“Well, at least he’s not blaming the puck bunnies this time. Growth.”
“Shawn out here giving TED Talks instead of saves. Let’s get back to hockey, please.”
“This is why Shawn’s still my favorite player. He’s not perfect, but he’s stepping up, and that’s what matters. Go Icebreakers!”
31
RILEY
The bass from Collins’ speakers thumps hard enough to shake the floor beneath my feet. I’m clutching a Red Solo Cup filled with something fruity and suspiciously strong, hanging out with Imani and Katerina, who are already tipsy. The party is packed with bodies weaving in and out of the small living room that’s more like a sardine can lit with a teen boy’s attempt at mood lighting.
Imani’s wild curls bounce as she dances enthusiastically with Malik. Katerina is in mid-argument with some guy whose name I can’t remember, and she’s totally not interested in. I don’t know why she’s bothering to waste her breath.
Meanwhile, I’m hanging back near the makeshift snack table, fighting the urge to flee. I should be at home studying or making a new Icing the Cake edit that will bring in some more funds, not wasting my time at a party for someone I don’t even know well for the sake of being social.
“Riley!” Imani waves me over, her eyes bright from either alcohol or excitement, or both. She really is like a butterfly, flitting from place to place, bringing joy with her beauty and inner radiance. Be more like Imani, I think to myself. But it’s not as simple as that.
I shake my head subtly, forcing a smile. “I’m good here!”
It’s not like I’m avoiding my friends. It’s just... complicated. The Draytons are here somewhere, and as much as I want to find them, I know I can’t. Not tonight. We agreed to keep our relationship on the down-low, at least until we’re ready to come out as a poly group. Even though there have been others on campus with relationships like ours in previous years, even large groups, I’m not ready to deal with being the focus of the rumor mill. More importantly, the boys can’t risk any scandal, particularly after Shawn’s indiscreet photo debacle. All eyes are on them, and witnessing how quickly that image made it from some underground R-rated puck-bunny site to mass social media is humbling.
Our actions can ruin our futures, and preserving our privacy has to be a top priority.
I shiver at the memory of seeing the image of Shawn with two other girls for the first time, raw and unfiltered. The jealousy was like a punch to the gut that elicited an internal cry for violence so strong that it shook the fabric of my self-perception. I didn’t think I was the kind of girl who would ever declare that I’d fight for my man. Turns out, I’m a girl who’d scalp and dismember for my man, gouge eyes, and bitch-slap anyone who dared to claim him. I’m still reeling at the revelation.
It’s not that I’m ashamed of what we have in any way. When we’re together, it’s beautiful. All the amazing things about a relationship with one man are magnified by three. They’re good men: kind, caring, funny, protective, intelligent, affectionate, loving, even. The way I feel about them, all soft and gooey inside, has taken me by surprise in the best possible way, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of how people will judge us, or me, more specifically.
Men can get away with a lot that women can’t, and even though it’s wrong, I don’t want something so good to affect us all negatively.
Even so, knowing they’re here and not being able to touch them sucks balls. I want my man candy so badly, and no amount of drinking or dancing is going to pull me out of my funk.
“What do you think of the party?”
The voice comes from behind me, and I turn as Bryan Forester approaches, his smirk too cocky, his gaze lingering a little too long.
“It’s fine,” I reply, taking a step back to put some space between us. My gaze drops to his hands, which held me so tightly at that stupid frat party and refused to let me go.
“Just fine?” He leans in, lowering his voice. “Where’s Hayes? I thought I saw him around somewhere. How come he’s left you out here all alone?”
“I’m here with my friends,” I say sharply, my pulse quickening like my instincts have detected something worth fearing.