PARTYING WITH THE JOCKS

JEREMY’S P.O.V.

His scent hit me, and I actually dared to take a sniff. That would be weird—really weird.

"You must be mistaken," I said, trying to sound firm. "I’m not moving in with you."

Niko chuckled softly, a smirk playing on his lips and shifting his silver piercing. "Whatever you say, champ."

He walked around me, heading toward the double doors. "Bright and early, Jacobson," he reminded me on his way out.

He was gone.

That was Niko. Niko—my stranger from last night, my soon-to-be stepbrother, and now my personal trainer for the next two weeks.

Everything happened so fast. One minute I was kicked off the team, and the next, I wasn't.

He had saved my ass again, just like he did last night. I hated the feeling, but I couldn't deny that I now felt indebted to him. What did he want from me in exchange for his help?

I looked down at my gear and all the stuff I had packed, fully prepared to walk away from it for good until he intervened.

I felt disappointed in myself for wanting to give up so easily. Could I really do that? Walk away from hockey without even a single fight?

The answer was humiliating, but yes I would've walked away from hockey... if not for Niko.

That was the truth of it. If not for Niko.

I could have died last night... if not for Niko.

I could have been kicked off the team... if not for Niko.

I would probably be homeless by tonight... if not for Niko.

And if I actually managed to get good after these two weeks of training, the new narrative would be clear: Jeremy’s good at hockey... because of Niko. I barely knew the guy, yet I already felt like I owed him my entire life.

Turning back to the lockers, I dumped my gear onto an empty bench, opened my locker, and began stuffing everything back inside. I guess I was back on the team—temporarily, at least. I slammed the door shut and headed for the exit. I was already running late for my ten-thirty class. Pushing through the heavy doors, I couldn't wait to leave the sports arena behind.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. Whoever it was could wait. I had already screwed up by being late for practice; I couldn't afford to be late for class, too.

A row of unused e-scooters sat in the rack outside. Relieved, I headed straight for them, knowing this would get me across campus much faster. But then I hesitated. The trauma from last night suddenly rushed back, making me nervous. I had just survived a bike accident, and I didn't trust myself on a scooter that felt way too similar to that bike.

Still, time was ticking.

Fuck it, I thought, I’ll just take the risk.

I pulled out my phone to scan the QR code and pay, which is when I finally noticed the text notification from earlier.

DICK HEAD.

I scoffed and dismissed the message immediately. I didn't care what he wanted anymore. Coach had kicked me off the team, and he hadn't even attempted to stand up for me. It was just another harsh reminder of how little I actually mattered to him.

I went ahead with the payment, but before I could unlock the scooter, a car pulled up and came to a stop right behind me.

"Jeremy!"

I smiled at the familiar voice. Putting my phone away, I turned to face my best friend and only comfort in this nightmare of a school—River Simone. We were both Computer Science majors and shared this exact class.

"Smores is going to bite our heads off if we don't have our asses in those seats before ten-thirty!" River laughed.

"Gee, I don’t wanna be late," I joked.

"Then get in!" River squealed in her usual bright, energetic voice.

I hurried over, opened the passenger door, and climbed inside. She was playing her favorite instrumental playlist. They were songs she hardly knew the lyrics to, but since the beats were good, she would hum and dance along anyway.

"Congrats on the game last night! Sorry I couldn't make it," she said, reaching for a bag of barbecue chips on the dashboard. She offered me some, but as usual, I declined.

"I didn't really play much—but thanks."

River frowned, looking confused. "What do you mean you didn't play much? I thought Coach promised to put you in yesterday."

I reached for the bag of chips after all, just to distract myself. I really didn't want to talk about hockey or remind myself of how awful this morning had been.

"He didn't... can we just talk about something else?"

River gave me a concerned look but nodded, respecting my wish. "There’s a party happening tonight. Do you want to go?"

I nodded, passing the chips back so she could munch on them. "Whose party?"

"Some jock's party. Daniel told me about it," she said with a shrug.

I didn't mind parties. They were usually fun, and it was a great opportunity for me to blow off some steam. Most importantly, Axel didn’t do parties, which meant I could actually enjoy myself.

"Which jocks?" I asked cautiously. Hockey players were a hard no for me. I was the least liked member of the team, and seeing any of them there would totally ruin my night. It would feel like hanging out with coworkers after hours—bland and exhausting.

"Football jocks. It’s going to be fun, I promise! You might even meet some cute guy," River teased.

She didn't have to tell me twice. As long as the hockey team wasn't invited, I was completely on board. "Count me the fuck in!"

River smiled and did a little happy dance in her seat. She stepped on the gas, driving faster toward the campus buildings. We had barely five minutes left before class started.

She pulled into our usual parking spot, and we both scrambled to grab our things, rushing to beat the clock. We barely made it, sinking into our seats completely out of breath.

The professor walked in just seconds later, slamming the door shut on the unfortunate latecomers.

River turned to me, grinning from her seat. She passed me her water bottle. I took a sip, but it didn’t quite cure my thirst—or the strange emptiness lingering inside me.

My phone lit up on my desk. Reluctantly, I picked it up and finally looked at the texts I had been avoiding all morning.

DICK HEAD: Sorry about coach and practice, Jer. I’ll explain later. I love you so much.

DICK HEAD: Don’t ignore me, Jer, please.