The Game That Breaks Us

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “Yoga? Seriously?”

  “I’m always serious,” he says, standing and slinging his bag onto his shoulder. “I won’t put you on the ice until you’re ready. The last thing you need is another injury.”

  His words hit home, and my head falls in dejection. “Yeah, I understand, Coach.”

  He nods and slaps my arm as I pass. “See you tomorrow, Bennett.”

  “Mhm, thanks.” I sigh heavily and press my fingers to my eyes, letting out a groan.

  This is going to be harder than I thought.

  “You’re not wearing that to the party, are you?” Elle crosses her thin arms over her chest and glares at me. Is it sad that in the short time I’ve been here I’ve already grown used to her glare?

  I look down at my sequined skirt and white blousy top. “What’s wrong with this?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Everything.” She taps a finger to her lips. “We’re about the same size …” she muses. “Hang on.”

  She rifles through her drawers, making an even bigger mess of her already messy side of the dorm room. It makes me cringe. I like order.

  “Here.” She throws a pair of black jeans at me. I catch them and hold them out so I can look them over. The leg and knee area is ripped to shreds. She tosses something else at me and it covers my face. She snickers as I pull it off. It’s a top that leaves nothing to the imagination. “Change,” she demands. “We need to go before all the good beer is gone.”

  “Is there such a thing as good beer at a party like this?” I grumble, changing out of my clothes. She doesn’t answer me, but I didn’t expect her to. Her clothes are the slightest bit too short for my tall, thin frame, but it’s not noticeable enough to be an issue. “How’s this?” I turn around so she can appraise me. “Does this get your stamp of approval?”

  “Almost.” She steps forward and doesn’t wait for permission before ruffling my hair. “That’s better.”

  I grab my cellphone and some cash, stuffing both in my pocket, before following Elle out of the dorm.

  The sky is dark, only a few stars and no moon, but the night is lit with the antique-looking lamps that dot campus.

  “Should we call a cab?” I ask Elle.

  “No,” she snorts. “Cabs cost money and we’re struggling college students.” I almost open my mouth and tell her that I have the money, but I quickly realize that would only make her hate me more. “Besides, the party’s only a few blocks from campus.”

  “How do you even know about this?” I ask, shivering from the cool air. Goosebumps dot my flesh, and I wish I’d brought a jacket.

  “I heard some guy talking about it and asked about it, then he invited me.” She shrugs.

  “Great.”

  The party turns out to be more than a few blocks away, and by the time we get there my feet are killing me, but there’s no way I’m taking my shoes off and risking losing them—not to mention the hygiene hazard.

  Beauty is pain, I remind myself.

  Cars are parked all along the street and several houses are lit up so I assume they’re occupied by people from the university. It would also explain why the cops haven’t been called because of a noise complaint. The music is so loud that the ground beneath my feet vibrates.

  Elle turns to me, and with the first genuine smile I’ve seen from her, asks, “Are you ready for this?”

  “No,” I answer honestly.

  “Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me inside. The front door of the house is open, inviting in anyone off the street.

  The noise level only increases as we go inside and the place is packed with bodies. We have to force our way through to get anywhere. Someone elbows me in the side and my hand slips from Elle’s as my breath leaves me. I try to push my way through on my own but I can’t get through. Elle is gone and I’m on my own.

  I turn and head the other way.

  I immediately hate this. I hate the way people stare at me. I hate the smell of sweat and beer. I hate the too-loud music. I hate it all. I should’ve just stayed behind at the dorm and not given in to Elle.

  I move through the foyer and finally end up in a family room. There’s a large sectional couch covered in bodies. People talk, dance, and there’s a couple on the couch that looks like they’re ten seconds away from having sex right there in front of everyone. I stare, horrified, as the girl puts her hand down the guy’s pants. Her shirt is off, lost somewhere in the room, and he sucks on her breasts.

  I’m officially disgusted.

  I run from the room, pushing my way past even more bodies. I end up in the kitchen and nearly slip on beer in my haste to find an exit.

  A hand latches onto my arm, and I’m yanked into a hard body. “Hey, are you okay?” the male voice attached to the body asks.

  I look up into warm brown eyes. Dark-brown hair tumbles over his forehead, and when he smiles, he has dimples.

  “Yeah,” I say, a little breathless. “Slipped on some beer.”

  “I noticed.” He smiles again, and it seems like he’s trying not to laugh at me. He lets go of me slowly and steps back as far as he can go since there’s a kitchen counter behind him.

  “Thanks for saving me.” I start to leave.

  “What’s your name?” he calls.

  I stop and turn back. “Grace.”

  “I’m Ryland.” He smiles. He has an easy, relaxed smile. “Are you new here?”

  “Freshman,” I admit.

  He nods. “I thought you must be since I’ve never seen you.”

  Since Ryland seems nice enough, I ask, “Which way to the outside?”

  He steps away from the counter. “Follow me.”

  He pushes his way through the people crowding the kitchen—it seems to be the most packed room in the house, probably has something to do with the beer—and finally, we come to a door. He opens it, and cold air rushes inside. I run outside gratefully, plopping my butt on the last cement step. It’s cracked with one lone dandelion growing up through it. Ryland sits down beside me, dangling his beer bottle between his fingers.

  “Thanks for getting me out here,” I tell him. “It was stifling in there.”

  “I know what you mean. One of my roommates is the one throwing the party. I wish he would’ve asked us first, but that’s Trevor. He always does what he wants.” Ryland shrugs and takes a swig of beer.

  “My roommate is the one that dragged me here,” I grumble.

  “Ah.” He nods. “Roommates are the worst.”

  “Tell me about it.” I sigh. “It hasn’t even been a whole day and she already hates my guts.”

  He laughs and stretches his legs out. The soles of his boots dig into the loose dirt. “I’m sorry.”

  I shrug. “That’s life. I think that whole compatibility form they made me fill out when I requested my dorm is total bullshit. We’re total opposites.”

  He drinks his beer. “I promise college isn’t all bad.”

  “No, it’s not,” I agree, thinking of Bennett. “So, are you a senior?”

  “Junior.” He shrugs, leaning back with his elbows on the stair behind him.

  “So you can give me all the details, right?” I joke. “Where to eat, what professors are a nightmare, who has the best coffee?”

  His laughter echoes in the night. “Yeah, definitely. Maybe I could show you around campus tomorrow? This place is huge. I got lost like fifteen times my first day—went into the wrong class too, and sat through half the lecture before I realized I didn’t belong in there, by that point, I was too scared to get up and leave.”

  “What?” I gasp. “No.”

  He nods. “Oh, yeah. It was so embarrassing. Luckily, I’m the only one who knew about it … until now.” He tips his beer at me. The action seems to make him realize I don’t have one. “Do you want me to grab you a beer?” He starts to get up before I even answer him.

  I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

  “Are you sure?” He starts to sit back down.

  “Positive.” I tuck
my hair behind my ear. “And I’d be so grateful if you could show me around. I already got lost today and there’s hardly anyone on campus. I don’t know what I’m going to do on Monday if I don’t know my way.”

  “I’ll take care of you,” he says with another one of those easy smiles.

  Something about Ryland puts me at ease. I feel like I can trust him.

  “What do you study?” I ask him.

  “Sports medicine.”

  My eyes widen. “Impressive.”

  He grins. “What about you?”

  “I want to be a stylist,” I say. “So I’m studying business and marketing and taking a few fashion design courses.”

  He nods. “Can’t say I’ve ever met anyone who wants to be a stylist.”

  “I like to be different.” I stand and dust off my jeans—Elle’s jeans. “I’m heading back in,” I say.

  Ryland follows me, and we push our way through the bodies again. The amount of people here is a bit ridiculous.

  “Follow me,” Ryland yells to be heard above the music. We end up in an empty room that’s most likely meant to be the dining room. “You wanna dance?”

  I don’t, not really, but I find myself nodding yes anyway. He’s nice, and frankly, I don’t want to be left on my own.

  Some super-fast electronic song plays, and I move my hips to the beat as best I can. Most people just sway or jump up and down, but that’s not my style. Ryland dances with me, mimicking my moves. Soon people are staring at us as we dance and I find myself smiling. This isn’t actually half bad. I end up wrapping my arms around Ryland’s neck and he grasps my hips. We move together, speaking the same language with our bodies. I smile up at him, sweat dotting my skin, and he grins down, flicking his hair from his eyes.

  The music changes and we keep dancing. We dance through at least five songs before I have to take a break and get some water.

  Ryland drags me back through the house to the kitchen and gets himself and me a water. I drink it greedily, emptying the plastic bottle in seconds.

  “That was fun,” I yell above the din in the room so he can hear.

  “Huh?” He bends down so my mouth is near his ear.

  “That was fun,” I say again.

  “Oh, yeah.” He nods and smiles before drinking more water. “Fun.”

  I glance at my watch, and I’m shocked to realize nearly two hours have passed and I haven’t seen Elle.

  I motion for him to bend down again. “I need to go find my roommate.”

  “What does she look like?” he asks.

  “Long, dark hair, slanted eyes, always has a mean look on her face,” I describe.

  He laughs. “You described almost every girl I know. Besides you, of course.” He winks.

  I smile. “I seriously need to find her, though. We should head back to our dorm.”

  “Sure.” He nods. “I understand. I’ll help you look.”

  I push my way through the crowd again, searching every face I see for Elle. Ryland taps my shoulder and points that he’s going the other way. I head down a narrow darkened hall where the line for the bathroom is. She’s not there. Disgusted, I turn back the way I came. There’s an upstairs, and something tells me I’m going to have to search there. Yippee. Based on the scene on the couch earlier I’m not thrilled at the possibilities of what lies upstairs.

  As I go up the stairs, I use the vantage point to look down into the family room, but no one that I see is Elle.

  I reach the top of the stairs and immediately spot her.

  “Let me go,” she says to the guy who has her pinned to the wall. His knee is in-between her legs, and he holds his hands firmly on her hips.

  “Come on, baby,” he says, lowering his head to her ear. Whatever he says I can’t hear but it pisses off Elle.

  “Fuck you,” she snaps.

  He leers at her. “That’s exactly what I want. Fuck. Me. I want you to ride this cock so hard—”

  I’ve heard enough. I tear off my pointed heeled shoes and run down the hall. “What the fuck?” the guy spits when he glances over and sees me running toward him. Before he can blink, I smack the pointed end of my heel against his face with a satisfying thump. He stumbles back, clutching his face, and I see a trickle of blood run down his cheek. “Bitch!” he screams, grabbing onto my arm and yanking me back. I stumble and fall into his chest. His fingers bruise my skin.

  “Grace!” Elle cries, concern leaching into her voice as she blindly reaches for me.

  “Must be my lucky night,” the guy mocks, his breath reeking of booze. “A two for one deal.”

  “Let. Her. Go.”

  My eyes dart toward the stairwell to see Ryland standing there now, fists clenched at his sides. The muscle in his jaw ticked.

  “You want in on the action?” the guy holding me asks. “I’m not really into sharing, but you can have them when I’m done.”

  “I said, let her go.” Ryland stalks forward the smallest bit more.

  “Or what?”

  “Or this.” Ryland runs forward in a crouched position, taking out the guy at the knees—they both fall to the ground and I am propelled forward into Elle. She holds onto me and keeps me from falling into the guys. Ryland and the guy throw punch after punch at each other. Ryland finally gains the upper-hand and ends up on top of the guy. He lands a solid punch to his face, and when the guy no longer hits back, he holds him by the collar of his shirt.

  “You never treat a woman like that. You’re the reason all men get a bad rep.” He lets go of the guy and he falls back like a useless lump on the ground. Ryland stands up and wipes his bloodied knuckles on his shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks us.

  “I am,” I answer. “Elle?”

  She shakes, and it’s only then that I realize she’s crying. “He-he … I don’t know what he might’ve done if you hadn’t shown up,” she tells him. “And then you.” She turns her gaze to me. “I can’t believe you defended me after what a bitch I was to you.”

  “Us girls have to stick together,” I tell her.

  She bites her lip and surprises me by saying, “I’m sorry. You’re not so bad.”

  “Hey,” Ryland says, interrupting us. “Why don’t I drive you guys back to your dorm? I don’t want you walking out there alone.”

  I look to Elle for her opinion. She nods.

  “Thanks,” I tell Ryland. “We’d appreciate it.”

  I wrap my arms around Elle and we start down the steps together. She’s shaken after what just happened; I am too, but not as much as she is and I want her to know I’m here. I’m scared to think about what would’ve happened if I got there only a minute later.

  Ryland leads us out to his car—a beat-up Toyota—and I help Elle into the back. Between her encounter with the guy and the alcohol in her system, her legs are barely holding her up. There’s no way we could’ve walked back to campus. I would’ve had to call a cab.

  I slide into the passenger seat, and Ryland starts the car. I shiver and he turns the heat on. I glance back at Elle. I don’t like the glazed look in her eyes, and I’m worried something was slipped in her drink.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her, worry leaking into my tone.

  She nods woodenly, staring out the window as Ryland pulls away from the curb.

  I don’t believe her. How could she be okay? Anyone would be shaken up after something like that.

  Heats blasts out of the vents, and I welcome it. It’s late, nearly two in the morning, and all I want to do is go to sleep. I lean my head back and stare out the window at the passing houses. The houses soon give way to businesses and then we’re back at campus.

  I tell Ryland the best place to drop us off and I hop out, going around to get Elle who’s passed out in the back now. I manage to get her awake enough that she gets out of the car and can rest against me.

  “Thanks for this,” I tell Ryland.

  “What’s your number?” he asks. He quickly adds, “So we can meet up and I can give you that tour tomorrow.�
�� He smiles shyly.

  I rattle off my phone number, and he enters it into his phone. “I’ll text you,” he says.

  I nod and lift my hand in goodbye.

  Elle and I make our way back to the dorm. I have to basically drag her up the steps and into the building.

  I finally get her inside our room and she collapses on her bed.

  I do the same. I’m too tired to change, and for once, I’ll have to commit the sin of sleeping in my makeup.

  Before I fall asleep, I hear Elle whisper, “Welcome to college.”

  My feet thump against the ground as I run.

  I run hard, and I run fast.

  I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. The last thing I need to do is blow out my already compromised knee, but I have to run. It’s the only thing that can clear my head.

  My head’s a mess lately. Between the injury and the negative media attention, my life has gone to shit. I had it all, and now I have nothing but grains of sand running through my fingers.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  I made matters worse by helping out Grace yesterday.

  Fuck. Grace. Her looks were what first caught my eye, but it turns out I actually liked her. Spending the afternoon with her had been nice. I’d felt like the old me, the me before hockey and fame went to my head and ruined every-fucking-thing. I wasn’t going to let it ruin things anymore. I could get my shit together, prove to the world that I was more than a playboy, that hockey really was my life—because it was. It was everything. Without hockey, I had nothing. I’d been playing basically since I could walk. My dad had played too—not professionally, but the sport had been everything to him and he’d wanted to share it with me. So, yeah, maybe he’d pushed me into it, but this was what I wanted to. The last year and a half or so I’d forgotten that, and let the money, the parties, the lifestyle get to me. With beautiful women throwing themselves at you, it was impossible not to indulge in the puck bunnies. Fuck, even some of the married guys were known to do it, so why was I targeted by the media so fucking much? I was pretty much always followed by the fuckers, and they rarely had anything good to say about me. It was like someone had it out for me.