The Not-Outcast(10)

The guy, on the other hand, was having the opposite reaction.

Mouth open. Eyes bugging out. He almost dropped his empty glass that he’d been waving around moments before.

Alex moved around the group, chuckling, as he reached out and took it from the guy’s slack fingers. The guy didn’t notice. He was riveted by me.

“You—you’re—whooooooaaa. It’s Cut Ryder, Shy. Cut The Reaper Ryder.”

I stifled an inward groan. There was a reason I’d been given the team’s mascot name as my nickname…all because of a certain game where I’d let this same anger out on a few opposing players. Like, five of them. The only one who hadn’t gotten it from me had been the goalie, and that was because I’d been hauled off to the box by then.

He thrust a hand out. “I’m a big, big, big fan of yours. Well, the whole team, actually.” He was still holding his hand out. I had no intention of shaking it, not because I was being rude or because he was in my girl’s space, but because it was sweaty and I could tell just from eyeing it. He gestured to her with his other hand. “I was just telling Cheyenne that I can’t wait for your guys’ game on Sunday. Your whole team is coming to where I work for a couple days soon. Cheyenne works with me.” He noticed Alex and jolted. “Whoa!” Then Hendrix. “Double whoa. Cheyenne, are you seeing these guys?” He whispered the last question, and by this time, I was locked in.

Fully.

Cheyenne. Her name was Cheyenne.

The guy ceased to exist for me, but she didn’t. She was fighting the pull between us.

I could see the fight on her face. A bunch of emotions were shifting there.

Fear—like a gut punch to my chest.

Amazement right after. Pride on my end at seeing that.

Then, fear again. I was being checked in the glass all over again, and I had no back-up.

“Babe,” that word whispered from me before I could stop myself.

Her head turned in my direction, but her eyes didn’t. They were laser-focused somewhere lower on my face. She wouldn’t meet my gaze. What the fuck?

I heard the guys fall silent, all hearing what I just laid out in that one word.

Then, Alex was pulling the other guy away, for his safety if he was smart, and I closed in, reaching out.

I touched her arm, and she was paralyzed as I felt a tremor rush through her.

“No, not like that.” I moved in even closer, bending my head. Her front was almost brushing my front and I could feel her trembling. I lowered my voice. “Is that because of me? You’re scared of me?”

I had to be smart.

I didn’t want to scare her away.

She shook her head, just the slightest bit.

I moved my hand to her shoulder, but I kept my other one free. I didn’t want her to feel like I was trapping her, but hell. I wanted to. So bad. I wanted to tug her out of here, take her home, and lay claim so she’d never want to feel another guy inside her.

“You know who I am?”

Another nod, but nothing else. Her throat was working, moving up and down. Whatever was going on with her, she couldn’t speak.

“You okay with this?” My voice was soft now, so fucking soft. I moved my hand up, cupping the back of her neck.

I felt her tense at my hold, then she dipped her head again. Another nod.

Some of the tension was lifting. I wasn’t scaring her. Thank Christ.

Then, I was not a guy who messed around. I asked, “You want to get out of here?”

Her eyes lifted all the way to mine with that question. My God, her eyes.

It clicked. Right in that moment.

They were like ice. They were glacial.

Whatever it was, something fell in place and this girl was really mine. She saw it now, too. Past lives, maybe? I didn’t know, but it felt right and I should’ve been weirded out about how right it felt, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to feel that way.

But I had to make sure. “You drunk? You know what you’re agreeing to? And if you don’t want to, that’s fine. We can find a corner, have a talk—” Her hand shot to my chest, and she put her entire palm there. She could feel my heart beating a mile a minute, too. I was just as affected as she was.

Then, another moment, as words wrung from her. “Take me home.”

A growl came from me. “Fuck yeah.”

I was primed.

I took her hand.





*



From: Cheychey

To: Koala Boy

Subject: I’m in trouble.





3





Cheyenne





He looked good.

He looked damn good.

I felt him in the party. Like, the whole time. I’d been horrified, then relieved when I saw him hand Sasha off to his other teammate, and by the way, I knew every single one of them. Season tickets and all, not that anyone knew I had season tickets, but so be it. It was my thing.

And him. He was definitely my thing.

I couldn’t get over how good he looked.

I saw him on the posters and gigantic murals. I saw his picture on ESPN, and YouTube, and any and all places where local celebrity athletes had their pictures posted, but in person… Yeah, it wasn’t the same. Cut was always pretty.

He’d not been built in high school. He’d been a lean guy, and that made him fast on the ice. But he had pretty eyes, high cheekbones (though still boyish), and his hair was a dirty blond back then. Watching him in college, then throughout the NHL, he had morphed.