Offside: Rules of the Game Book 1
Offside: Chapter 41

I ignored Luke, picking up my pace to a near jog. The street was lined with tiny older houses, largely rented out by students, so there weren’t any shops to duck into or other means of escape. Besides running, that is, but that probably wasn’t warranted—I was fairly certain Luke was just being annoying.

Fairly.

Not positive.

“I said can we talk?” Luke raised his voice, his tone taking on a familiar sharp edge.

“No,” I called over my shoulder. Why weren’t there any other pedestrians around? If there were witnesses, he would probably leave. Luke wasn’t prone to showing his ass to strangers. He had an image to maintain—or so he thought.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he said, tempering his voice to appear calm. I knew this routine inside and out.

“Hard pass.”

“Come on,” he said, still easing the car down the street. “Don’t make me park and get out.”

And do what? Maybe I was wrong about him not being dangerous.

“Don’t make me scream for help,” I snapped.

With shaky hands, I fumbled in my pocket for my phone and checked the time. It was 9:09. Chase was probably still on the ice. Maybe hitting the shower. Either way, not reachable. He said to call, but if I did and I couldn’t reach him, he’d be even more upset.

“Bailey. Talk to me for a second.”

Why? So we could fight? There was nothing to talk about. He loved nothing more than trying to suck me back into his cycle of drama.

I shook my head. “No.”

Coming to a stop at the corner, I looked both ways before darting across. He rolled through the red light, keeping pace with me.

“After a year and a half, this is how you’re going to leave things?”

“Yep. And Chase is about one minute away,” I lied, “so leaving things would be in your best interest too.” I shivered as the chill sank deeper into my bones, unsure of whether it was the cold or my flight-or-fight response kicking in.

“Why are you being such a bitch?”

And that was it. I finally snapped. If I’d been holding a rock, I think I would have thrown it through his windshield.

I stepped up onto the curb and came to a screeching halt. “I’m not a bitch. You’re an asshole!” My voice climbed. “Leave me alone. Can’t you take a hint?”

Unfortunately for me, engaging with him seemed to be what he wanted, because he stopped the car on the deserted street.

I should have known better.

Luke sneered, resting his forearm along the open window of the car. His silver Rolex glinted in the streetlight. “I was trying to make things right with you. But I don’t know why I would even bother when you ended up in Carter’s bed the moment after we ended things.”

He didn’t know how right he was. But it wasn’t his business. Never mind the whole Sophie thing on his end, but at this point, I didn’t care enough to volley back verbally.

“You’re a slut,” Luke added.

I shrugged, resuming walking. “Sure. Whatever.”

“So you admit it?”

“I don’t care what you think.” I pretended to check my phone. “You should go. Chase will be here any minute. Don’t think it’ll end well for you.”

“That guy isn’t who you think he is,” he said. “I’ll prove it.”

His tires squealed as he peeled away.

I had a good idea of who Chase was, for better or worse. The good, the bad, the stubborn. Luke’s energy would have been better spent investing in some hardcore therapy of his own.

A short while later, I arrived home—my home for one last night, at least—to an empty house. Hands still trembling, I unlocked the door and quickly locked it again behind me. Leaning back against the door, I flipped on the hall light and sucked in a breath. Safe. Done. Over.

Once my heart resumed a more normal speed, I sent Chase a text to let him know I’d gotten home and left it at that. I didn’t even know what to tell him about Luke. I should tell him. And I would, probably, tomorrow. I couldn’t deal with it tonight.

After grabbing a drink, I went upstairs to finish packing. Moving out of the brownstone was bittersweet. I was mourning the loss of two friendships along the way. Even though it was harder and harder to remember, Amelia and Jillian hadn’t always been the way they were now.

But I guessed it was never a real friendship, given how quickly they flipped the script on me. Sucked that I couldn’t see that until it was too late.

A notification appeared on my phone as I folded the last of my clothes.

The Sideline: Rumor has it there’s a hockey sex tape floating around with a girl from Callingwood. Offering a large monetary reward for anyone who can provide a copy.

Sex tape? My stomach twisted as my mind immediately jumped to the worst possible explanation, like it always did. Was the girl from Callingwood me? Luke wouldn’t have secretly recorded us…would he?

That blind item could be referring to anyone. Could be Jillian or Amelia, even. Or one of the thousands of other students at Callingwood. I was being paranoid. Right?

CHASE

I’d had better games for sure. But we brought home a win, four-three, so it was all good.

Pushing past several of the guys in my way and receiving several fuck-yous in response, I barreled straight for my locker and grabbed my phone. I unlocked it as I sat on the bench, still in full equipment.

Dallas flopped down beside me and gave me a hard shove with his elbow. “Carter, what the fuck was that out there?”

“Hang on.” I held up my hand, studying the screen. She’d texted me her last update ten minutes ago.

Bailey: Got home safe. All good. FaceTime when you’re home too?

I quickly wrote her back.

Chase: Naked FaceTime?

Bailey: I thought you were teasing me until tomorrow.

Chases If you’re actually game, I’ll call off the teasing for now.

Bailey: We’ll see…

I was pretty sure she was fucking with me—probably getting revenge for earlier—but hey, there was a chance she was for real.

And maybe I had overreacted a little. I still thought Morrison was a stalker, though.

“Earth to Carter.”

I locked my phone and looked back up at Dallas. His light blue eyes pinned me to the spot, searing into mine, and his sharp jaw was tighter than the laces on my skates. He was more pissed with me than he’d been in a long time.

“What? We won, didn’t we?” I tugged my jersey off over my head and unfastened my shoulder pads.

“Barely,” he spat out. “And no thanks to you.” Dallas lowered his voice, brow furrowed. “Where the hell was your head at? You almost skated the wrong way at one point.”

“I told you; I was worried about Bailey. She was at the Bulldogs game alone.”

And by worried, I mean imagining all kinds of disastrous scenarios. Usually, I used my imagination for good—a.k.a. dirty—things, but I was also incredibly good at picturing bad possible outcomes too. Hadn’t realized that till recently, though.

“Did she get home okay?”

“Just now.”

“Good.” He slid off his elbow pads, giving me a withering look. “But you know worrying doesn’t actually accomplish anything, right?”

This, coming from the guy who did things like check the weather three times before he left the house for fear it might rain on his designer suede sneakers. Cute.

“I guess.”

I wasn’t much of a worrier in general, so I hadn’t given that idea much thought. What he said checked out, but somehow, I couldn’t effectively apply that principle to Bailey.

Dallas leaned down, untying his skates. “You’re gonna have to learn how to compartmentalize that shit.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve had way longer to figure out how to do that.”

Not all of us had been training for this boyfriend thing for months in advance like it was the fucking relationship Olympics. Come on.

“I guess.” He grunted. “But if you keep that up, Los Angeles will leave you here for another year.”

“You’ve had off games because of Shiv too. Remember our season opener?” I pulled off my skates and wiped off the blades.

“Vaguely,” he muttered.

Dallas couldn’t argue that one and he knew it. That game was a fucking disaster. They’d had a blowout fight earlier in the day—probably about the boyfriend/girlfriend label; thank god that was settled now. Our alternate captain, Maxwell, had to assume control because Ward was a total space case the entire time. In fact, he’d been an outright liability on the ice. And unlike tonight, we’d lost that game.

“Besides,” I said. “Miller already tore into me.”

“Next time you miss a pass like that, I’ll bench your ass myself.”

“Fair enough.”

After we showered, Dallas’s mood improved. He tended to blow up quickly and cool off equally fast once he said his piece.

“Are we still good to move Bailey’s stuff tomorrow afternoon?” I asked. “She doesn’t have a ton, so it’ll be pretty quick. Mostly it’s the dresser, bed, and desk.”

“Yeah. Around three or four or so? I’m taking Shiv to meet my parents for dinner at seven.” He zipped up his jeans and paused. “Though I guess I could shower at the girls’ place.”

Then they’d probably never make it to dinner. We had our own bathrooms at home, luckily, but that didn’t save me from the TMI knowledge that Shiv and Ward had a thing for shower sex. Unfortunately, while marble floor-to-ceiling tiles were nice to look at, the acoustics meant that sounds echoed. A lot.

“What’s this, now? Shiv is meeting Maggie and Stewart?” I let out a low whistle. “Big step.”

Dallas’s parents were awesome. His dad was a typical old-school litigator, senior partner at one of the big four firms and a total dick in the courtroom. Chillest guy ever in his personal life, though. As long as you didn’t fuck with him. There were very few people who actually scared me, but Stewart Ward was at the top of that list.

And Dallas’s mom was the warm, motherly type who fussed over everyone. She was a bit of a trophy wife—he definitely got his looks from her; not his dad. Maggie always flirted with me too. Not in a creepy way, but in good fun. Drove Dallas crazy, which was extra hilarious.

“’Bout time, right?” he asked. “We’re going to Allegro.”

“Fancy.”

That bill would clock in at five hundred dollars, easy. But that was the equivalent of a Chipotle bill for them.

“They’re paying. Might as well milk it while I still can.” Dallas shrugged.

“Yeah, once you make the league, they might actually make you pay your own rent.”

His lips curled into a wry smile. “Like you pay market rent, jackass.”

That was true. Our living arrangements were heavily subsidized by the Bank of Stewart Ward. I could easily afford to pay more, but his parents insisted on something “more reasonable for a student.” I tried arguing with them, but they wouldn’t hear it.

“I would if they’d let me,” I said. “I can’t help it if your parents have a soft spot for yours truly.”

“They haven’t gotten to know you well enough yet.” Dallas pulled his navy long-sleeved T-shirt over his head.

Except I’d spent the majority of the last four summers at their beachfront cottage. Ward was an only child, so I was the closest thing he had to a brother.

“You’re jealous because they like me better.” I tugged my black hoodie on and straightened it.

“If that were actually true,” Dallas said, “I’d go ahead and disown myself for being such an embarrassment.”

I glanced up from buckling my belt and grinned. “Love you too, man.”

“Who said I liked you?” He smirked. “You coming out for drinks?”

“Nah,” I said. “Don’t what to be tired for tomorrow. Big day of moving and whatever comes after that.”

Plus, I was still hoping naked FaceTime could be a thing.

“You’re so whipped.”

“Yup.”