I look at him, still confused as to how I ended up in the middle of what appears to be a locker room and on a long wooden bench that’s large enough to sleep on. “Umm... No, not really.”
“Do you remember where you were last?”
“A stupid hockey game,” I mutter.
The players behind him snicker at my comment.
“Do you remember the last thing that happened before you blacked out?” Dr. Carter asks.
I glance up at the players surrounding me, my eyes fixed on Julian. My mouth twists in disgust when his green irises meet mine. Fucking bastard. I’m in excruciating pain because of him, forced to come to his game. Seething mad, I hate him with every ounce of my being. This is his fault. If he hadn’t scored the goal that sent the rink into complete chaos, people wouldn’t have thrown shit into the air. And I wouldn’t be in this damn locker room right now.
Why can’t Julian and his burly teammates leave me alone with the doctor? They’re standing around with stupid looks plastered on their stupid faces. Their presence serves no purpose other than to distract me. It’s hard not to glance at their big arms that are corded with muscles. Harker has legs so thick and toned they look like tree trunks. I imagine how hard it would be to wrap my arms around them, but thinking hurts my brain.
Julian and his friends move forward as a singular unit.
“Guys, please,” the doctor says in a stern voice. “Give me some space to work. Briana doesn’t need all of you crowding around her.”
Julian and his teammates back up a few inches, but they don’t leave the locker room. They’re now dressed in regular clothes, some in jeans and others in sweats, but all of them are wearing navy Strickland Senators T-shirts with white lettering, the thin cotton molding to their ripped bodies. Ugh, why do hockey players have to look like… them? It’s so not fair. They make women like me feel like ugly ducklings. Girls on campus used to tell me I wasn’t any good for Julian. They said I was too curvy, too poor, and too ugly to date one of the hottest guys on campus.
“Your friend said you were hit with a bottle,” Dr. Carter says, snapping my gaze back to him.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Really? A bottle hit me. All I know is it hurts like a son of a bitch, and then I don’t know, I guess I passed out.”
“Nice mouth on this one,” Knox says.
He’s always hated me and never thought I was good enough for Julian.
I shoot a wicked look in his direction. “If you don’t like my mouth, you can get lost. I don’t need an audience.”
Julian’s eyes flare with something I can’t place. Desire? Curiosity? Excitement? It’s hard to say. He watches me with interest. I still want to kill Sadie for raising my paddle at The Player Auction.
Dr. Carter sighs, drawing my attention back to him. “Briana, can you point to where it hurts?”
“Everywhere.” I show the doctor the source of the mind-numbing pain. “But mostly here.”
He inspects the lump forming on my head. I groan when he touches it, and he sinks back on his heels. “From the looks of it, you were hit pretty hard. The swelling should go down in the next few days. I want you to put some ice on your head and stay off your feet.”
“I’ve had plenty of concussions,” Julian says. “I know what to do… if you need some help.”
“You’re not talking to me,” I say without looking at him. “I wish you would never speak to me again.”
“Actually, I am talking to you, you stubborn little brat.”
Furious, I cock my head at him, my cheeks burning. “I’m not a brat, you stupid trust fund hockey dick.”
I expect Julian to say something smart in return. Instead, he tilts his gorgeous head back and laughs, a real throaty laugh that fills the silence in the room. His teammates join him, finding my shame and our ridiculous banter hilarious. Somehow, our little squabble causes the tension to slowly disappear from the locker room.
“God, I hate you,” I say, my voice filled with laughter. “You’re such a jerk.”
He rolls his shoulders as if agreeing with me.
Not like he’s completely oblivious to the fact he’s a total blue-blooded douche who thinks his big dick, muscles, and bank account make him special. Julian is no different than the other entitled snobs on this campus.
Dr. Carter waves a bright light in front of my face. “I need to do a quick checkup. With how long you were unconscious, I’m worried you might have a serious concussion.”
I frown at his words. “I don’t have time for a concussion. I have a big test on Monday that I have to study for.”
“I can write you a note and speak with your professors. You can’t concentrate too hard on anything right now. Reading and studying is out of the question. Stress and too much thinking will only make it worse. You need a few days off your feet. No exertion of any kind. You’ll need to get some sleep but not for too long.”
“I’m fine. I can handle it. I’m used to taking care of myself.” I shrug him off and attempt to get up from the bench, but my feet slip out from under me.
At the same time as the doctor, Julian reaches for me, pulling me into his strong arms that wrap around me like a warm blanket. His musky scent fills my nostrils, the scent so intoxicating yet nauseating all at the same time. Waves of sickness sweep over me, my stomach revolting either from the smell of his cologne or the fact he’s holding me. Or maybe it’s something else. Because chunks are rising from the back of my throat, forcing me to keep them down.
I cover my mouth with my hand and choke out between my fingers. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“You gonna puke?” Julian asks.
I nod, my fingers still covering my mouth.
“As I said before,” Julian says as he leads me through the locker room. “I’ve had my fair share of concussions. I can help you get through this.”
He ushers me into a handicapped stall at the back of the bathroom and fists my long, dark hair into his hands as I drop to my knees in front of the toilet.
“You should leave,” I say. “I don’t want you to see this.”
He tightens his grip on my hair, and for a second, I’m reminded of how rough he can be in the bedroom. Not the time to think of that, Briana.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he growls. “Just get it out. You’ll feel better.”
I don’t have time to think about it before the contents of my stomach make an appearance in the toilet. Beads of sweat dot my forehead and slide down my neck and between my breasts. The room is still spinning, my body on fire from the war raging inside me. After I flush the toilet, Julian releases my hair. He balls some toilet paper in his big hands and wipes my mouth for me. What a nice gesture for such a shitty man. He didn’t seem to give a crap about me when he was kicking me to the curb.
Taking the paper from him, I clean up as much as possible and then lean back against the brick wall. I’m too ashamed to look up at him. I feel like I’ve gone to hell and back again and somehow lived to tell about it. Tears stream down my cheeks, most likely stained with streaks of mascara. My lips feel swollen and cracked, so rough they hurt when I run my tongue across them.
Surprisingly, Julian sits next to me on the dirty bathroom floor in his expensive dark jeans that probably cost his daddy five hundred bucks. “Do you feel any better?”
“Not much,” I admit. “My head is killing me. I feel like someone beat the shit out of me. It’s like a train is running through my skull.”
“Do you have anyone who can look after you?”
His question takes me by surprise. He knows better than anyone that I have no family and only one friend.
“No, Sadie went home for the weekend. Her cousin’s wedding is tomorrow night.”
“You can’t sleep for too long when you have a concussion. There’s a chance you won’t wake up.”
“I’ve survived on my own for years. I got it covered.”
“The worst is yet to come, Bri.” He shakes his head. “You're so stubborn.�
��
I smirk at the bastard. “And you're a trust-fund dick.”
His expression softens, his green irises so clear and bright when he locks onto me. “You can stay with me if you want.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “And get in the way of your philandering? I think not.” A beat passes before I add, “But thanks for the offer, I guess.”
“I’m not a philanderer.” He chuckles. “I forgot how eccentric you are. Who uses words like that?”
“Me,” I counter. “So, I guess you prefer womanizer, then. That does seem to suit you better.”
“Not quite,” he groans.
“How about player or Lothario?” He doesn’t speak, only blows out deep breaths as I continue, “Not like you would know what I’m talking about. That would require you to pay attention in class. Not everyone has a rich daddy who can pay off the professors because he doesn’t feel like waking up early with the commoners.”
“Knock it off, Bri,” he grumbles. “You know, I was trying to do something nice for you. Why can’t you just stop talking nonsense for one second? You always think you’re so much better than everyone.”
I snicker at his last comment, pointing a finger at my chest. “Me? Better than everyone? You’ve got to be kidding me, Richie Rich. I’m not the one who acts like they own the ground they walk on.”
“No, I don’t,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m not a Lo-whatever-io.”
I chuckle at his attempt to say Lothario. Stupid jock.
With one eye open, I glance over at him. His jaw is set like stone, his full lips pressed so tightly he looks like a statue of perfection. “Then, what do you call hooking up with seven girls in one week?”
His nose scrunches in irritation. “That rumor is unfounded.”
“I know guys like you, Julian. I’m sure it’s based on some merit.”
“You don’t know shit about shit,” he hisses. “It’s not true.” He throws his hand out in front of him. “Go ask my teammates if you don’t believe me.”
“Well, you can’t deny that you move between girls faster than you change your boxers, so I’m sure someone got the information from somewhere.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighs, his eyes pointed down at the tiled floor. “Are you ever going to stop hating me?”
I snort at his question. “Are you kidding me? After the way you treated me, you expect me to like you? Please, let’s stop pretending we’re friends and that you’re here out of the kindness of your black heart. While I appreciate you helping me tonight, I can’t stand being around you. You make me so mad my skin feels like it’s covered in fire ants. I’ll never forget how you made me feel back then. Never,” I add for good measure.
“And I’ll never forgive myself for acting the way I did,” he confesses. “I was drunk and stupid. You didn’t deserve any of the shit I said to you.”
“There’s no point in rehashing the past.” I press my palm to the toilet seat and Julian grabs my arm, helping me up from the floor.
He towers over me, all six feet five inches of muscle and sex appeal. His eyes blare into mine, cutting through me like shards of emerald glass. My skin pricks with tiny bumps when his finger touches my arm. And he doesn’t miss a beat. His irises sparkle with acknowledgment. My heart races from his delicate touch.
“At least consider my offer,” he says. “You’ll need someone to help you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not staying in your bedroom at the hockey whorehouse. The last thing I need is for anyone to think we’re together… again.”
“My driver will take you home,” he says, leaving no room for argument.
I roll my eyes at him. Sadly, he’s not the only spoiled shit on campus with a personal driver on speed dial. “Whatever you say, boss.”
He frowns at my words. “Just do what I say, Bri. You’ll thank me for it later.”
Julian removes his cell phone from his pocket and types out a quick text, reading the immediate response. “Ramon will be here in five.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, truly appreciative of the ride back to my dormitory because I’m in no shape to walk home alone with this concussion. “I still owe you a date.”
He hooks his arm around my back and pulls me closer to him. “Don’t worry about it.”
Tired beyond words, I rest my head on his thick chest and sigh. It feels so natural to do this with Julian, which is the reason I have avoided him like the plague. I was afraid we would fall into old habits. Being with him was as easy as breathing. And after a short amount of time around him, I’m starting to relax, the tension from my body lessening as I lean into him. He holds me in silence, making me hate him a little less.
“We can figure that out later,” he says after a few minutes, slipping his big fingers between mine. “When you’re better.” His cell phone dings in his pocket. “Your ride is here. Time to get you home, Bri.”
Home. I’ve never had a real home. But when I’m with Julian, that’s where I am—home. He has always been that for me. And the thought makes my heart ache. Because I know how much it will hurt when I lose him all over again.
Chapter Ten
Julian
Staring out the window in the study, I sit on the ledge and look out at the backyard that faces other Victorian houses on campus. It’s close to midnight, the moon casting a soft glow across the people on the lawn who are dancing and pounding beers. I don’t feel like partying tonight.
We beat Penn State at home. I should be more excited about knocking them out of regionals, but all I can think about is Briana. She should have been here with me tonight. But because I invited her to my game, she’s now laid up in her dorm room, all alone and unwilling to accept my help. What if she sleeps for too long? What if she needs to go to the hospital and won’t call an ambulance because she’s too worried about the money?
I should leave this party and break down her door. Otherwise, she won’t let me into her room. She won’t allow me to sit with her while she sleeps or hold her hair for her while she pukes. I was surprised she let me do it earlier. Briana hates letting anyone see her vulnerable. But I love when she shows me that she’s human. Most of the time, she tries too hard to make people look past the fact she’s poor. No one cares if she has money. But because of it, she shuts everyone. Only a few people have ever gotten close to Briana. And I’m lucky enough to be one of them.
Nash strolls into the dark study and clears his throat. I stare at him, waiting for him to speak, but he just stands there like an idiot, sipping the beer in his hand. He’s a big guy, only a few inches shorter than me with dark sleeves of tattoos branded into his tanned arms. His parents hate that he “ruined” his body. I remember when his mom showed up at our house unannounced and cried for ten minutes after seeing the ink on his skin. He did it just to annoy his dad.
“Why are you hiding?” Nash says as he approaches me. “Some of the girls are asking for you.”
I’m usually the life of the party, not the one avoiding it. But I needed to think about Briana, who has occupied my mind from the second she won the auction. After Nash tapped the keg, I wandered off into the back of the house and haven’t budged from this windowsill since. I share this old house with nine of my teammates. When you live with this many guys, it’s hard to find the time to just think. And in this case, I wanted to get lost. I was hoping no one would find me until after I figured out what to do with Briana.
“I’m not hiding,” I lie. “I just needed a break from everyone.”
“What happened earlier with Briana was kinda weird, huh?” He hands me the plastic cup in his other hand, which I gladly accept. We tap cups and then he adds, “I know you’re gonna run after her.”
“She blames me for her concussion. And she should. I invited her to the game. If she hadn’t come tonight, she wouldn’t be in this situation.”
He nods. ”Don’t let her fuck with your head again. We need you in game ready shape with how
close we are to regionals.”
“I know. Don’t worry about me. I got this under control this time.”
He smirks.
“Look, Nash, I don’t want to fight. What happened after the auction the other day…”
“We’re just looking out for you. You know how we get with outsiders. It’s been the four of us for so long. We have to protect our own.”
“Yeah, I get that, but this is different. Briana isn’t some puck bunny.”
“You love her,” he says under his breath.
I stare at him for a long, hard second and then take a sip from my beer.
An awkward beat passes between us before he says, “Kelly Hart just showed up. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Nah, I’m good. You can have her if you want.”
A wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You sure? She was asking for you.”
“Nah, she’s yours.” I push myself up from the sill and roll my shoulders. “I think I’m gonna go check on Briana.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You think that’s a good idea after the way she acted in the locker room?”
“She doesn’t have anyone to take care of her,” I spit back, somewhat defensive.
Nash nods. “Okay, well if you change your mind…”
“I won’t. Briana needs me.”
Whether she will admit it or not she does. She needs someone to take care of her. Knowing her, she doesn’t even have enough money to buy Tylenol. Which reminds me, I better stop by whatever store is open this late at night on my way over to her place.
“I thought you were done with her years ago.”
I consider his words for a second. “No, I was never really done with her.”
As far as I’m concerned, we have unfinished business. We ended things on a horrible note. Neither of us had our chance to get what we wanted to say off our chests. I was drunk and stupid. She was drunk and overly emotional and jealous of another woman I had zero interest in. But that didn’t matter to Briana. Her anger and insecurities took control, making her believe I was some lying, cheating asshole when that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Most Desirable Player Page 7
