The Game That Breaks Us

by Micalea Smeltzer

  THE GAME THAT BREAKS US

  Copyright 2016 Micalea Smeltzer

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design and photo: Regina Wamba at Mae I Design

  Edited and Formatted by Wendi Temporado at Ready, Set, Edit

  Hockey’s bad boy needs to clean up his reputation…

  Bennett James has built his career at being the best, on and off the ice, and now it’s come back to bite him. The media has turned against him, and with a near career-ending injury, he needs to clean up his act and prove that he’s serious about the game. For Bennett, working with his old coach at his alma mater feels like a step back, but it might be just what he needs.

  …and she’s going to help him do it.

  Grace Wentworth has always been the good girl, and she’s tired of that stigma. She wants to prove that she can get down and dirty with the best of them. The problem? She doesn’t know how.

  Bennett will teach the good girl how to be bad, if she pretends to be his goody two-shoes girlfriend in front of the media.

  But what happens when the game becomes real?

  “You’ve got to get your act together.”

  I glare at my manager, wishing I could set the fucker on fire with my gaze alone. Bernard Wright might be one of the best sports managers in the business, but he’s also an asshole. I’ve come to learn most people are.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “This—” he shoves a finger onto the front cover of some tabloid “—is unacceptable.”

  The photo shows me making out with some random puck bunny at a bar. The picture is nothing new. Photographers follow me just about everywhere nowadays, so they’re always catching me doing something they deem scandalous. I call it normal. I’m aware that makes me as much of an asshole as Bernard, but in a different way.

  “It was just a kiss,” I say. “It’s not like I fucked her right there on the bar. Give me a break. I don’t even remember her name.”

  Bernard snaps his fingers together. “Exactly, you don’t even know her name. You’re not new to this business, and I know that there’re plenty of other guys out there just like you, but most of them aren’t in your predicament.” He glances down at my casted leg. I try to pretend the cast isn’t there and him drawing attention to it only sours my mood even more. “You’re about five seconds away from losing your career between this injury and your personal life. Hockey should be more important than chasing tail. Figure out your priorities and clean up your act, Bennett, or I won’t be able to help you.” He raises his hands, signaling that he’s done.

  I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  Hockey is my life. I can’t lose that—I won’t lose it.

  “What do you propose I do then?”

  He shrugs. “You figure it out, Bennett. I’ve cleaned up too many of your messes, made it easy for you, and I’m not doing it anymore. You need to do what you can to get back out on the ice, and while you’re at it, you need to change the media’s perception of you. Think you can do that?”

  I grin. “Fake it till you make it, right?”

  He smiles and leans back in his plush leather chair. “Right. I have faith in you. You’re a good player, so don’t throw away your career.”

  I sigh and stand up. “Are we done here?”

  “Yes.” He nods and stands to shake my hand.

  I leave, already knowing what I have to do to get back on track.

  “Fucking hell, of course they’d give me an uppity bitch for a roommate.”

  I pause in the doorway to my dorm. “Excuse me?” I gasp. I haven’t set one foot into my dorm room and my roommate already appears to hate me.

  The girl—Elle, according to the information packet I got—has long, wavy, dark-brown hair that looks like it hasn’t ever seen a brush. Her eyes are slightly slanted, giving her an exotic look, and her top lip is slightly larger than her bottom. On someone else it might look odd, but it suits her. Freckles are sprinkled across her nose and she’s dressed in a thin black tank top, black skinny jeans, and black boots.

  She points to my outfit. “Who dresses like that? It must take you all day to get ready.”

  I look down at my black tights, light-gray skirt, pink blouse, and black heels. I look like a preppy beauty queen next to her simple outfit, which I guess is what I am, but I’m definitely not a bitch. My hair is curled to perfection and I know my makeup looks flawless. I spend enough time watching YouTube tutorials that I know my way around makeup brushes.

  “Not really,” I say, wheeling my suitcase and duffle bag into the room and over to the empty bed. “When you know what you’re doing it doesn’t take time.”

  She huffs in disbelief.

  I hike my suitcase onto the bed that will be mine for the remainder of the school year.

  My parents begged me to go to school near home, but I wanted to get away. Growing up the middle child, surrounded by two annoying—but awesome—brothers and an overprotective dad, I just needed to get away. I ended up picking a school in Massachusetts—Addams University sits about three hours away from Boston—which means I’m still close enough to my parents in Northern Virginia to see them for holidays, but far enough away to avoid random visits.

  “I’m Elle, by the way, but I guess you knew that.” She turns her head to the side, appraising me. I feel like a bug under a microscope.

  “Grace.” I glance at her over my shoulder and give her a smile. It doesn’t seem to be appreciated.

  “Not Gracie?” she asks with a little smirk.

  My brows narrow in irritation and I whip around. “You really think you’re something, don’t you?” I snap, my patience having reached its limit with her snark. I point to her all black ensemble. “You think you’re some kind of rebel, but you’re exactly like everyone else, whereas I—” I point to myself “—dare to be myself. I guess originality is under appreciated where you come from.”

  Her face remains neutral, and then little by little her lips begin to lift into a smile. She claps. “I underestimated you.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “True.” Her lips twist. “But I guess we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well considering we’re roomies.” She says the word like it’s dirty. She bounces on her bed, which is covered in an old quilt in colors of purples and reds. She already has a tapestry hung on the wall beside her bed, and so far, that seems to be as far as her decorations go—unless the clothes strewn across the bed and on the floor count as decorations.

  She crosses her legs and flips through a magazine.

  I turn my back on her and open my duffle bag. My bedspread is stuffed in there, and when I pull it out it’s all wrinkled, which irks me, but I try to pretend like it doesn’t because it would only give her more ammunition against me. We don’t have to like each other, but it would make things easier. I don’t want to have to be worried about her slipping blue hair dye into my shampoo or something.

  I make my bed with the clean white sheets and spread out the teal-and-white printed comforter. I’ll need to buy some throw pillows since I didn’t have room to pack any and I can’t stand a bare bed. My bed at home was so full of pillows you could barely see the bed itself. My older brother, Dean, used to joke that I liked so many pillows because I could get lost and never found in them.

  When I finish wi
th my bed, I start to unpack my things. Elle and I each have a tiny closet that will barely hold anything. Thankfully, we’re also provided with a dresser. It’s small, but it’ll help with the storage problem. We have two oak desks with two rickety chairs that were provided along with a small refrigerator tucked into the corner. Our dorm room floor is in need of a rug to brighten up the place since the carpet is a drab gray color. Everything in this room is small, but at least I’m on my own for once. Well, kind of on my own since I have to share the room with Elle.

  I get all my clothes unpacked and stuff my suitcase and duffle bag under the bed.

  “I’m going shopping,” I tell Elle, grabbing up my purse.

  She glares at me over the top of her magazine. I don’t think she’s even reading it, just using it as a shield. “Of course you are,” she says.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I need to get a few things for the room. Pillows and food and stuff.” I don’t know why I’m even explaining this to her. “You’re welcome to come if you want.” I smile, but it’s forced. I’m trying to be nice, but she’s making it damn near impossible and I haven’t even been here two hours.

  “No, thanks.” She closes her magazine and lays it on the bed. “There’s a party off campus tonight.” She looks at her nails and I know she’s baiting me.

  I sigh. “Okay?”

  “I’d invite you, but it probably wouldn’t be your thing.” Her eyes scale me from head to toe.

  It wouldn’t take an expert to figure out my clothes are expensive, but it’s not something I necessarily flaunt. Yes, I came from a rich family but I wasn’t spoiled. My parents made sure to raise my brothers and me with an understanding for the real world. Elle is judging me based on who she thinks I am, not who I really am, and that irks me.

  “Maybe it is my thing,” I counter, squaring my shoulders.

  There’s a challenging look in her amber eyes. “Then go.”

  I clench my fingers around my purse strap so she can’t see them shake. “I told you, I’m going shopping.”

  “Go tomorrow,” she challenges. “You have all weekend before classes to go shopping.”

  “I …” I’m stuck and I see no way out. If I insist on going shopping, she’ll think she’s won and I’m never one to forfeit. “Fine, I’ll go.” I drop my purse back down on the bed.

  Her eyes widen in surprise and her lips part. I’ve stunned her. Good.

  “The party’s not until tonight,” she admits reluctantly, and I had figured as much, “so you have time to do your shopping.”

  I can’t contain my smile as I grab my purse. “Don’t leave without me,” I chirp, closing the door behind me. “What a bitch,” I mumble to myself out into the hall.

  The hall is filled with girls; most of them shrieking in delight and excitedly talking about their summers. I envy them just slightly since it looks like I’m stuck with the devil incarnate for my roommate.

  I call for a taxi as I head outside. My mom and dad wanted me to take my car to college, but I opted not to. Freedom to come and go as I liked would be nice, but this experience was all about pushing myself out of my boundaries. Riding the bus or taking a taxi was something new for me.

  I hurry down the steps of my dorm and push open the door to the outside. The sun shines brightly above the bustling campus but I know it’ll soon be going down. The campus buzzes with voices as people catch up with friends and say goodbye to family. There’s a campus coffee shop not far from my dorm that I wanted to find, but I know if I’m to make it back in time to go to the party I can’t linger.

  I look around, trying to get my bearings, but it’s impossible. As soon as I got here, I grabbed my information pack and headed straight into the dorm, not bothering to check things out. When I told the cab driver I went to Addams University he said he knew it well and he’d pick me up across from the fountain, only I don’t know where the fountain is.

  I look around blindly, panic building inside me.

  I wanted to be on my own but it’s only beginning to hit me how truly alone I am.

  I turn to my left, where there seems to be more activity, and head that way. A normal person would probably stop and ask for directions, but I’ve always been a doer, and I hate asking for help even when it’s necessary.

  I can’t believe how many people are on campus. I mean, I knew this was a big school, but knowing it and experiencing it are two different things. Besides, people only began arriving on campus yesterday and classes don’t start until Monday so it’s bound to get even more crowded.

  I bumble my way around, looking every which way. I know I look like a chicken with its head cut off.

  “Are you lost?”

  The voice could belong to any number of people speaking to someone around me, but somehow, instinctively, I know they’re speaking to me.

  I turn toward the deep rumble, holding my breath.

  My eyes collide with hazel ones and I look up at the massive wall—man—in front of me. He’s tall, probably six-foot-four at least, with blondish-red hair that’s shorter on the sides and slightly longer in the front. Not too long, but long enough that I could run my fingers through it if I wanted to … which I don’t want to. A white t-shirt stretches across his muscular chest and several tattoos adorn his arms. I want to look and see what they are, but I don’t want to look like I’m checking him out so I don’t.

  “Um … I’m looking for the fountain,” I say.

  He chuckles, and the sound washes over me like a summer breeze. “Which one?”

  “There’s more than one?” I frown. Well, this isn’t good.

  “Three, actually.” He shrugs and his shirt rides up the smallest amount, showing off his smooth stomach.

  “Is there a main one?” I ask.

  “I guess you could say the one in the center of campus is the main one.” He frowns.

  “Would a taxi pick me up there?”

  His brows furrow. “Uh, no. Sorry.”

  I sigh heavily. “The cab driver said he’d pick me up at the fountain, I assumed there was only one, but obviously I was wrong. He’ll be gone by now anyway,” I groan. There’s no way the cabbie would’ve waited this long for me.

  I turn to leave, not even bothering to thank the kind stranger.

  “Wait,” he calls. I stop and turn back around, tilting my head to the side as I regard him. “Where are you headed, maybe I can take you?”

  “Um, I don’t even know you.”

  He winces. “Right, stranger danger.” He holds out his hand. “Bennett James—hockey player and Sour Patch addict.”

  I take his hand, stifling a laugh. “Grace Wentworth—aspiring stylist and chocoholic.”

  He lowers his hand. “Now that we thoroughly know each other, can I offer you a ride?” I eye him and he laughs. “Not that kind of ride. Although, maybe a different time and place.” He winks. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  I bite my lip. “I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t know you.”

  “You could get to know me on the car ride,” he reasons, grinning from ear to ear. He’s enjoying this, clearly.

  I know the smart thing to do would be to turn around, go back to my dorm, and go shopping later, but for once, I don’t want to do the smart thing.

  I want to be daring and adventurous and not the stick in the mud my roommate already thinks I am—and she’d be right.

  I square my shoulders and say, “Okay.”

  His mouth parts slightly. He didn’t really expect me to say yes. “Let’s go then.” He turns to head back from the direction he was coming from.

  “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not important.”

  “Are you sure?” I hesitate, not wanting to mess up his plans.

  “Absolutely.” He stuffs his hand in his pocket and pulls out his car keys.

  I follow him around campus while he helpfully points out various buildings. We finally make it to the parkin
g garage and he pushes a button to unlock his car.

  “That’s your car?” I ask when the headlights on a brand new red Camaro turn on. I know enough from my car junkie older brother that this is a top-of-the-line Camaro and doesn’t run cheap. “Are you a student? Oh, God,” I gasp. “Please tell me you’re not a professor?”

  I think I might die.

  He laughs. “Neither.”

  I eye him with apprehension. “You’re not about to drive me out to some remote location and kill me, are you?”

  He laughs, keeled over in the middle like I’ve said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

  “Trust has to be earned,” I tell him. “So earn it.”

  “O-o-h.” He chuckles and opens the passenger door. “You’re something, aren’t you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. My chest brushes his arm as I move around him to get in the car.

  He pauses before closing the door. “Nothing bad. You’re kind of testy, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I defend, “but I’m not in the habit of getting in cars with guys I don’t know.” He smirks, just the slightest lift of his lips, and dimples pop out in his cheeks. It makes him look younger than he probably is. He doesn’t say anything in response and closes the door. When he slides behind the steering wheel I ask, “So, if you’re not a student or a professor, what are you?”

  He shrugs. “I’m just visiting.”

  “Oh, do you have a sibling going here? Are you supposed to be with them right now? Oh, my God, I am so sorry. I can get out.” I reach for the door, but before I can open it, he reaches across from me and holds it closed.

  “No sibling,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Oh.” I relax into the seat and he lets go.

  “You’re free to go if you want,” he assures me. “But you’re not keeping me from anyone. Promise.” When I make no move to get out of the car, he asks, “Where to?”

  “Is there a Target around here? I need to get some things for my room.”