Page 26 of Cheap Shot

“Sorry, we shouldn’t have been so loud,” one of the girls closest to me said with an apologetic smile. I recognized two of them from passing them in the hall, but didn’t know their names or even what rooms were theirs.

“No, it’s fine,” I rushed out. “I was just wondering if I could go to the party with you guys.”

A blond in the back smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks.” I relaxed a bit. “I haven’t had a chance to meet many people yet, and if I spend one more night in my room, I might lose my mind.”

“Oh my gosh,” the girl that had said sorry started. “I totally know how you feel. My roommate last year was such a dud. It wasn’t until I met these girls that I started having fun.”

“The party is down on frat row, and we’re going to leave in an hour. Sound good?” the third girl, a slim brunette, asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

They waved and dispersed into their rooms. I went back inside and flung myself on my bed, causing the frame to slide against the floor and a horrible screech to fill the space. I cringed and listened for any laughter or complaints, but it didn’t seem that anyone else heard.

Now I had legitimate plans to tell Reid.

Haley: I met some girls in my hall. Going to a party with them

Reid: What party?

Haley: I’m not sure. They said Frat Row

Reid: Be careful. Some of those can get out of hand

Haley: I will

Reid: Especially AGN

I didn’t know what that meant but agreed anyway. I was too excited about having plans to worry. There were enough of us going together to watch out for each other.

Right?

Chapter 10

Reid

Coach Hiller’s eyes were on me during the last ten minutes of practice. I could feel a heavy stare, and it only took me a second to catch his disapproving gaze following me on the ice. What had I done this time?

I ran through the past few days but couldn’t think of anything that warranted his anger. My stomach knotted. When any of the coaches were mad, it was worse than when your parents gave you their ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look or called you by your full name. That instant punch of anxiety and nausea distracted me until Coach Weston called practice to a close.

As the others hurried to the locker room to shower or leave, I held back, knowing he wouldn’t let me by without saying something, and I wanted the least amount of witnesses possible.

When only Ben and our goalie, Andy, were left I approached the bench. Coach Hiller had his arms crossed over his broad chest, and he nodded once in the direction of the tunnel. I followed behind, pulling off my helmet and running a hand through my damp hair.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe he needed a favor or had news for me. It wasn’t unusual for any of the coaches to call on me or one of the other seniors to discuss a new policy or change before telling the rest of the team. I wanted to believe that was it, but his stiff posture combined with the expression during practice made it seem unlikely whatever he had to say was anything short of a reprimand.

My mind raced through possibilities, but nothing stood out.

He stopped in front of his office and waved me in. As soon as I sat, the door closed behind me, and he walked around to face me, leaning against his desk.

“I’m not going to waste time, Bayman. You’re here because you’re incredibly lucky.”

I raised a brow. “Coach?”

“It seems someone either thought they were doing their due diligence, or they hoped to get you in trouble. No matter their reason, it doesn’t change the fact that there is evidence of you breaking the rules.”

What rule had I broken?