Offside: Chapter 19

The volleyball game ended with Callingwood winning three-two. In theory, a close score like that should have made for an exciting match. In reality, I had no idea what happened. I took notes, but I’d done it in some kind of bizarre autopilot mode. The conscious, thinking part of my brain was stuck on the fact that Chase was picking me up. I was trapped in an emotional loop that cycled through excitement, fear, uncertainty, and lust, changing as often as the colors on a string of blinking Christmas lights. Torn between wanting to throw myself at Chase and wanting to run the other way. Half-tempted to kiss him to see what happened, but also fairly convinced that was a terrible idea. Worse still, not sure whether I cared if it was.

In other words, I was a mess.

Chase was already waiting in the loading zone as I navigated the crowd of spectators exiting through the glass arena doors. I climbed into his truck and buckled my seat belt. The kiss idea jumped up a few notches in my mind the second I got a good look at him. But if he wanted to kiss me again, wouldn’t he have done it already? He’d had ample opportunity.

My attention fell to his phone. It was lying in the center console, notifications going wild. The ringer was on silent, but the screen lit up with messages every few seconds.

Right.

I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Chase glanced down as he put his hand on the gearshift but paused and pulled it away before putting the truck in drive. “For fuck’s sake.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Do you mind if I respond to Ward so he leaves me the fuck alone about this fantasy hockey trade? He sent me an offer that expires in an hour, and now he’s texting me with a countdown every three minutes. Dick.”

A tiny stab of guilt pricked at me for assuming the worst about him.

“Sure,” I said. “Go ahead.”

“Pretty sure he’s already a little drunk,” Chase added. “He’s not normally this high maintenance.”

I crossed my legs, shifting to face him. “What’s the offer?”

“I don’t know.” He raked a hand through his dark hair. “Didn’t even review it. I was on my way out the door and didn’t want to be late picking you up. I’m sorry. I’ll be two seconds.”

To Chase’s credit, he completely ignored his phone most of the time. When we were together, he was mentally present, and his attention was fixed solely on me. It was more than I could say about most people I knew, friends or otherwise.

“I don’t mind, but now you’ve got to show me. I’m curious about what his offer is.”

Chase unlocked his cell and read the message. “Ha.” He snorted. “As if.” He held the device out so I could see the screen.

I studied it for a moment. “What’s the rest of your team look like?”

He took his phone back and navigated the screen briefly before handing it to me again. Chase obviously knew more about hockey than I did, but I didn’t agree with his conclusion.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think I would take it.”

He shot me a dubious look. “Smith for Taylor? Ward is trying to screw me.”

“Taylor is overvalued, and he’s off to a weak start. Have you seen his stats lately? He hasn’t found his groove since they traded Petrov last season. He’s coasting. I don’t think he’s going to turn it around.”

Good job, Bailey. Geek out on sports. Guys loved that. I had already opened Pandora’s penalty box, though, so it was too late.

Chase looked at the screen, then back up to me. “Keep talking…” He furrowed his brow, dark eyes thoughtful.

“Smith is a sleeper. He’s been a little slow to develop, but he’s shown serious promise over the last six months. I think he’s going to have a breakthrough season. Plus, Dallas threw in a first-round draft pick with his offer. With Richardson coming up soon, I would be all over that.” I stopped my rambling and drew in a deep breath.

And cue backlash in three…two…

I waited for him to argue with me like Luke—and most guys—did. To tell me all the reasons my opinion was wrong or stupid. Derek was the only one who could engage in remotely civil debate with me about sports. Even then, he tried to pull the hockey player card when he was losing.

Chase tilted his head, looking at me like I was an alien. Then a grin broke out on his face. “You know what?” He shrugged. “I’ll bite.”

My heart exploded.

“Wait, really?” Surely, I’d misheard.

“James, you just dropped more knowledge than half the guys on the team could. It makes total sense.”

This may have been the moment I fell for him, but I’d never admit that out loud.

“Plus,” I added, “if you take the trade and I’m right, Dallas will be extra mad that he did it to himself.”

Chase grinned. “I like when you talk dirty to me.” He nodded at the phone. “There’s a lot of money riding on this pool, so if I win big because of this, I’ll buy you something nice.”

“I’d settle for a hot chocolate.”

“I’ll take you for that any time you want.”

Dark hair tumbled over his brow as he typed out a text to Dallas, frowning in concentration. He looked so heartbreakingly perfect, but what lay beneath the surface was a tangled mess of contradictions I didn’t understand. He was all sharp edges and swagger from a distance. But closer up, there was softness and vulnerability too.

The man, the myth, and the legend, yet—human.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

I didn’t know what we were doing.

“You can skate, right?” He stashed his phone in the console again. It stopped lighting up every two seconds, which confirmed that my initial assumption—that it was a roster full of girls—may have been hasty.

“Why?”

“Just curious. Maybe I like to plan ahead. But if you can’t, I mean…you can admit it.” A smirk played on his lips. He shifted the truck into drive, signaling to pull out of the loading zone. We waited while throngs of people milled about, blocking the way.

“Who do you think you’re dealing with here?” I asked. “I’ve been skating since I was three.”

“Figure skating?” Finally, a clearing opened, and he eased the truck onto the road, heading for the freeway exit.

“Psh, no. Hockey.”

He stole a sidelong glance at me, lips tugging up. “You played hockey? That’s awesome.”

“Until middle school. I mean, not very well. My skating was fine. Good, even. It was the other things that were the issue, like stickhandling.”

“I could teach you how to stickhandle.”

I suppressed a laugh. “Carter.”

“What?” He widened his eyes in mock innocence. “You know, I think you’re the one with the dirty mind, James.”

Maybe I was.

Twenty minutes later, we made our way up the sidewalk to Chase’s house. The street was packed with cars, and low bass throbbed out onto the street.

He glanced over to the front window, which looked into a living room crammed full of people. “Wow. It’s filled in since I left.”

“Ah,” I said, because nerves had hijacked my brain and I couldn’t formulate a more articulate response. What was I doing at this Boyd blowout anyway? I wouldn’t know anyone besides Chase and—sort of—Shiv and Dallas. And I couldn’t expect Chase to babysit me all night.

He opened the glass front door and held it for me. “You ready to fraternize with the enemy?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shooting him a tentative glance. “Is the enemy nice?”

Maybe they were nicer than my supposed allies. It wouldn’t take much these days.

“Nah, we’re all terrible people,” he said, nudging me toward the kitchen. “Let’s go grab a drink.”

We walked through the hallway and past the living room full of people I didn’t recognize. My panic continued to escalate.

“Is Shiv here?” I asked, scanning the house. “I feel like I need another girl if I’m going to survive this.”

“Sure is,” he said. “Not sure where, but we can look for her.”

As we walked into the kitchen, Dallas strolled in the back door. “Carter,” he said, giving him an air pistol. “Just the person I wanted to see. We’re out of beer.”

“How the hell?” Chase gestured. “It hasn’t even been two hours, Ward.”

“Didn’t go as far as I thought it would.” Dallas shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter. He was definitely tipsy. Which explained the bad trade he’d offered Chase.

Chase sighed. “You blew up my phone for the past hour and didn’t think to mention this?”

“Thought we had more in the beer fridge out in the garage. But we don’t, and you’re the only one sober enough to drive.” Dallas gave him another air pistol. Yep, drunk. “Thanks, man.”

“You fuckers can’t plan for shit.” Chase glanced down at me, expression apologetic. “Sorry. Want to run back out with me?”

Shiv came inside from the patio door and shut it behind her. “Or you can stay here with me. Dal can go with Chase. We were about to play a drinking game. I think there’s still one beer in the fridge.”

“I can stay,” I said, “but I have to go easy on the drinking. I don’t think Chase wants a repeat of the night we met.” I peeked up at him and grinned.

He laughed and gave my shoulders a squeeze. “Well, at least it got us here.”

Half an hour later, we wrapped up one round of a drinking game during which I drank water instead of beer because I was still genuinely afraid of repeating the incident at XS. People began to filter out of the basement, leaving me with Shiv and Aaron, a second-year player from the Falcons.

Shiv said, “I was undeclared to start. But I changed to psychology when I transferred to Boyd this year.”

Suddenly, there was a crash of breaking glass from upstairs.

“Oh my god,” she muttered. “I swear, sometimes…”

“Want help?” I asked, pushing to stand.

“It’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

Aaron turned to me. “You’re a journalism major too? I hear the Callingwood news lab is amazing.”

“It is,” I said. “But the Boyd alumni connections are supposed to be great for securing a job after graduation.”

“Yeah,” he said. “My friend got hired—”

A long shadow appeared, blocking the overhead light in the stairwell like a solar eclipse. We both turned to find a gigantic hockey player lurking in the doorway. Chase raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Aaron paled. “Uh, I think I forgot something in the living room.” He darted around Chase, taking the stairs two at a time.

Chase sauntered over, swinging the beers he was holding. “Sup.”

“You’re so mean.”

“So they tell me.” He cracked one of the beers and handed it to me. “But I saw Shiv upstairs and I couldn’t find you. I was worried.”

“Oh, Shiv had to go clean up a broken glass. Aaron and I were talking about school.”

“Sure you were.” Chase smirked.

“He’s a journalism major too,” I said, holding his gaze evenly. “But if I didn’t know better, I might say you were jealous.”

He shrugged but didn’t deny it. “Just pointing out how single-minded and filthy most guys are.”

“Including you?”

He stood closer, giving me a look that did something decidedly unfriend-like to me inside. “Baby, I’m the filthiest.”

I laughed. “I know.”

“Anyway.” Chase took a sip of his drink, his throat bobbing.

My eyes lingered for a beat on his lips as a flicker of desire ignited within me.

He cleared his throat and continued. “I came to see if you were staying here or if you wanted to go home later.”

My heart went ka-thunk like a rusted old car. “Staying here?” I may have thrown some extra personal items into my bag in case this scenario arose, but I genuinely didn’t think it would.

“As a friend, James. But if you want to go home, I’ll stop drinking after this so I can drive you. This is my first beer.”

I chewed my lip, considering. I was fairly certain that if I stayed, it wouldn’t be as a friend, despite his assurance.

Did I want that? I sure did. But I was also a little scared. Okay, a lot scared.

“I don’t need a chaperone to get home.”

He leaned against the wall, biceps bulging as he folded his arms. “There’s a blue stain on my favorite pair of white sneakers that says otherwise.”

I groaned, embarrassment flooding my gut. “I don’t know.”

His eyes caught mine, questioning. Tempting. I wanted to say yes.

“Come on.” He nudged my foot with his. “I’ll let you wear my Falcons shirt again.”

“Never,” I said. “I’d rather sleep naked.”

It was meant to be sassy but was way off the mark. I blamed being in such close proximity to him; my brain was going all sorts of haywire.

His voice dropped, turning husky. “That can definitely be arranged.”

“Carter.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“James.” He copied me, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. A smile broke through that was hopelessly endearing and intentionally designed to be that way. “Plus, if you stay, I can kick your ass at video games later.”

“Okay,” I said. “But you know I’ll be the one kicking your ass. Again.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised his brows, coffee-brown eyes dancing. “Let’s make it interesting. If I beat you, then you have to wear my Falcons shirt again tonight.”

“What do I get if I beat you?”

Our gazes locked and a smile played on his lips.

“Anything you want.”