Rule Number Five: A College Hockey Romance (Rule Breaker Series Book 1)
Rule Number Five: Chapter 9

“COME ON, LET’S GO.” Sid looked back at me, piercing hazel eyes searching mine. I was more than happy to follow. She was like a lifeline, dragging me toward the surface.

At this point, she could lead me off a cliff. I was that curious about what she had in mind. She looked at me with determined eyes, and the corner of her lips tilted up. She was definitely up to something. “Where are you bringing me? I’m in a shit mood, Sid.”

She didn’t slow down. If anything, she pulled harder, laughing. “I know. You were a sour ass for the entire class. Get over yourself for a minute, and trust me.” She gave my hand a firm squeeze.

“Fine, but don’t expect good company.” Grumbling under my breath, I followed as she led me out of the building but didn’t head to the parking lot where I expected. Instead, we cut across the soccer field and headed for an eight-foot-tall chain-link fence.

“I’m not sure if you looked at yourself lately.” I gesture to her already short skirt. “But I’m not sure hopping fences is the right idea.” I was a fucking idiot. If she wanted to climb this fence, my only response should’ve been thank you.

“Sounds like wishful thinking on your part.” She lifted the corner of the green chain-link closest to the pole. The end folded up like a flap that she easily climbed under.

I eyed it. “Bit small for me, don’t you think?”

“You can always try climbing.”

I groaned and crouched so low my knees felt like they were in my armpits as I shuffled through. I went to stand, only to be yanked back hard. My shirt caught on one of the sharp ends, pinning me in place. I tried to detach it, but it was just out of reach. “A little help here?”

Sidney was only a few feet ahead of me, hands on her hips. “I don’t know. I kinda like you tied up like that.”

I shot her a dark look. “That can be arranged, but for now, get me loose.”

She didn’t move, and I groaned. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” she said with a smirk. God, all the ways I could make her pay for that.

My thoughts were cut off when her hand slid down my back, leaving a trail of heat. With a few quick tugs, I was released and stood to my full height, shifting to stretch myself out. “Over. I definitely should’ve climbed over.”

“You think you’ll live?” She raised a brow.

I ran a finger over the hole in my shirt. “Whatever you have planned, it better be worth it.”

“Don’t you trust me?” she said, mischief in her voice.

I let out a quick laugh. “Not really.”

“Relax. I’ve got you.”

We walked a couple of blocks in silence until the pressure was creeping back in, pushing down. A bit of fresh air wasn’t doing anything for my mood.

Up ahead was an old junkyard. The sign on the front read, “You Ditch Them. We Wreck Them.” It looked dilapidated, even by junkyard standards. “What are we doing here, Sid?”

She ignored me, giving a familiar smile to the attendant. He stared at her, eyes traveling from her feet to her head as he reluctantly buzzed us in.

“You know you aren’t supposed to bring a guest. That isn’t part of the deal.” He eyed me like he was trying to size me up. Nice try. I had at least sixty pounds on this guy. Turning back to her, he went on in his high-pitched voice. “Fred’s not going to be happy about this.”

She put on a winning smile, and her hands clasped in a please gesture. “You aren’t going to tell him, are you?”

His eyes softened as if he couldn’t say no to this enchanting girl. I feel you, man. He waved us in, and even though I had no desire to be here, I found myself just as enthralled as he was.

We walked by tall piles of junk. Nothing looked salvageable. Again, I wondered how this place stayed open; it was small and nothing like the city-run operations.

As we rounded a corner, she gave me a shy grin. There was a sofa in the middle of a clearing overlooking more trash. I wouldn’t call it scenic, but at least it was interesting. “I can’t say anyone’s ever brought me to a junkyard before.”

She waved me over, taking out a clean blanket she had stashed in a plastic bin, and stretched it across the sofa. She pointed at the cushion.

“Sit.” Her tone gave no room for argument. Sitting down, I found it surprisingly comfortable. There was a little tarp overhead to protect it from the elements. She had a solid setup. “You come here a lot?”

“Enough.” She rolled out a cart full of glass vases, a pair of safety glasses, and a large wooden bat.

“Smashing things? Really, Sid?”

She raised a brow and set a vase on a long bar. “Got something better to do?”

The idea definitely held some appeal. “Nope.”

I swallowed hard and tracked each of her movements as Sid rolled her shirtsleeves, adjusting her skirt higher so she could separate her legs. She gave me a cocky grin, bringing her bat elbow-high, and she swung through with such force it disintegrated the glass in front of her. Her laughter overtook her and filtered into me until I couldn’t stop my own. I clapped while she mockingly bowed.

“Your turn.” At my skeptical look, she huffed out, “Trust me, it will help.”

“Sure it will.” I would rather watch, but she looked so fucking hopeful. I stood and grabbed the safety glasses and bat while she set everything up.

I swung through half-heartedly, barely playing along with her game.

“You call that a swing?” Her warm hands landed on my back, positioning herself directly between my legs, and she moved my fist down the bat. I didn’t need her help with my form, but I was sure as shit not going to stop her. Screw batting. This was what I needed right here.

She stepped away as if she could hear my thoughts. “Swing through. Don’t stop when you hit the vase.” Her bossy tone had me biting my bottom lip. I usually liked to be the one in charge, but her confidence was sexy as hell.

She walked around the cart, pulling out an enormous vase and setting it up before taking a seat on the sofa a safe distance away.

Something about her got to me, and I felt my walls lowering with the intensity of her attention. The last few days were rough. Rocky, my dickhead agent, was all over me about my image. I was still reeling after that last call. He was pissed about Sid and my little race in the halls. Said that I need to control my image better. When I refused, he laid the guilt on thick and went on and on about how it was important to build recognition for my brand and how I needed to be seen as a safe bet.

Frustration built in my chest, and I followed Sid’s directions, swinging through, and connected hard with the vase. All the pressure transferred from me to the shattering glass, and a smile lit up my face.

“You like it?” Sid sounded unsure, and I didn’t like the hint of doubt in her voice.

“Yeah, Sid, I like it.”

She clapped her hands. “My turn.”

She rolled her shoulders, preparing to bat next, bringing attention to the skin just above her collar. Her scar barely peeked out, and I wanted to run my fingers across it. I stepped away before she could notice where I was staring.

Over the next hour, we chatted about unimportant things and settled into a rhythm as we set up more glass to break. There was an easy way about her that was as contagious as it was addictive. Most people peppered me with questions about hockey and my future playing in the NHL. She let me talk about it at the pace I wanted. She talked about her plans and how she couldn’t wait to get her career started, and how she thought her mom would be proud.

I sat beside her on the old couch. “Of course she’d be proud, Sid. You’re doing amazing.”

There was a soft pink hue to her cheeks that she tried to hide from me, but I was paying attention. She reached into her bag, and my gaze caught on the bare skin where her shirt escaped her skirt’s waistband. Fuck, I wanted to run my thumb along that strip, but my thoughts were cut off.

“It’s not much, but something to take the edge off.” Sid handed me a protein bar, oblivious to my thoughts. Her words took on a different meaning in my head. The pressure was gone, but there was something else growing here.

She didn’t ask what was up with me, but there was a question in her eyes. I rolled my shoulders and tried to explain the thing that was eating me alive. “Do you remember six years ago when a high school kid died street racing?”

“Yes, it was all over the news.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper.

“He was my best friend, Marcus.” I took a deep breath, calming the ache that built in my chest. “Not only did we play together, but he was the reason I got into hockey.”

She didn’t push me, just waited for me to continue.

“After he—” I closed my eyes. Breathe. “After he died, I decided I would do whatever it took to fulfill his dreams of making it to the pros. Since I was on the second line and practiced a lot with Marcus, I naturally took over for him. Sometimes it feels like I’m living his life for him, and I’ll never amount to who he would’ve become. You should’ve seen him. The way he could skate scared the shit out of guys in college.” I rubbed my trembling hands over my face and raked them through my hair. “I’ve been struggling with my game lately. I’ve got to figure it out before people start to notice—”

Her soft hand slid over my jaw and tipped my gaze to meet hers. “It’s beautiful that you’re honoring your friend… but Jax, you’re your own person. Don’t get so caught up in living his dream that you forget your own.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but there was no pity there, only understanding.

Sidney pulled her legs onto the sofa, and her shoulder leaned further into mine. She was right. This was exactly what I needed, but I couldn’t help worrying about why she needed this place to begin with?