The Fifteenth Minute: A Hockey Romance (The Ivy Years Book 5)
The Fifteenth Minute: A Hockey Romance: Chapter 22

Lianne

SUNDAY IS the next chance I get to have some private time with DJ. I’ve made the case that I really need to catch up on some Shakespeare. But it’s a foil, of course. It’s just an excuse for another magic night with him. He invites me over for eight o’clock.

By seven-thirty I’ve already done my face with subtle do me eyes and just a whisper of my favorite cherry lip gloss. But then I make three laps around my tiny dorm room without replaceing the book I’m looking for. “Hey, Bella?” I call through my open bathroom door. “By any chance have you seen my copy of Macbeth?”

A moment later she appears in my doorway holding it. “Sorry, I was reading it.”

“Really? Don’t you have your own work to do?” I snatch the book from her hands, frustrated that I just spent twenty minutes looking for it.

“Well if you want to get all technical about it.” She tosses herself onto my bed, then watches me stuff the book into my backpack. “Going to DJ’s?”

I’m so busted. “Um, why would you ask?”

“Macbeth and your toothbrush? It’s a strange combination. Wait…” She lunges for my bag before I can react, her hand closing on something I’ve stashed in there. She squeals with glee. “Oh MY God! You’re bringing lingerie!”

I grab the nightgown out of her hand before she can inspect it further. “It’s not lingerie. It’s cotton.”

“I saw lace.”

“You’re nosy.”

Bella cackles. “Don’t forget the condoms. Hey—I have some flavored ones. You want a sample? I have cherry and watermelon. And vanilla, but those are gross.”

“I’m good,” I say tightly. The fact that I’m hoping for a fun night in DJ’s bed embarrasses me, even if Bella doesn’t understand my hesitation to say so. It’s easy for me to tell DJ that I like him. A lot. But it’s still impossible for me to say out loud that I hope he removes all my clothes the second I arrive at his house.

I drop the nightgown on the bed and leave it there. I’d wavered mightily on bringing it, and now it seems pushy of me. Bella hands me my coat with a smile. Then she sweeps the nightgown up, folds it twice and tucks it into my bag.

Without a word, I jam it a little further down so it’s not visible from the top.

“Have a fun night,” Bella says. “I won’t wait up.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, while Bella snickers.

DJ had said he’d be free to hang out after eight, and it’s quarter ’til when I arrive on his street. Hopefully he won’t be irritated that I’m early.

Eager much? I tease myself as I climb the stoop.

The other two times I’ve visited DJ’s house, there was nobody else home. But tonight is different. Orsen answers when I knock. “Hey,” he says, opening the door wide to admit me. “DJ!” he yells. “Company!”

As I step forward into the living room, several heads swivel around to see who’s arrived. There are one or two hockey players I don’t know very well and some girls. One of them is wearing that stupid shirt, proclaiming herself to be a student of Harkness who doesn’t know me.

Guess that’s accurate.

“Hi,” I say into that hush that’s fallen over them.

“Hey, Lianne,” says the freshman O’Hane, but the rest just stare. It’s like any day on campus for me. I shift my bag a little higher on my shoulder and hope DJ emerges from wherever he is soon.

“Thought he was in the kitchen,” Orsen mutters. “Deej!”

“I’ll check,” I say, eager to get away from all the eyes on me.

But when I duck around the corner I hear a girl’s laughter, and then DJ’s low voice saying something teasing to her. Then she laughs again. Though I feel a chill on my neck, I keep going, rounding the refrigerator, spotting DJ at the little table in the corner with a smiling girl with dark, wavy hair.

They look very cozy.

DJ looks up to discover me standing there. And I swear to God, the smile drops right off his face. “Lianne,” he says. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I manage. But I feel like turning around and running out.

He stands up quickly, just as the girl turns her head. “This is my sister, Violet.”

His…what?

“Oh my GOD!” the girl squeals. “Danny! You didn’t tell me you knew Lianne Challice! I love her!”

He comes around the table and gives me a one-armed hug, which I return awkwardly. I don’t get a kiss, either.

“Sorry I’m early,” I say.

Violet is grinning wildly. “Omigod, Danny! You weren’t going to tell me, were you? Jesus, are you dating?”

“Um,” DJ says while I die a little inside. He said um. So I guess we’re not, in fact, dating. I paste what I hope is a neutral expression on my face. And I think I can hear the lacy nightgown in my backpack laughing at me.

Fortunately, Violet is still making The Sound, and doesn’t seem to notice her brother dodged the question. She’s jumped up to grab my hand, pumping it up and down. “This is epic. I’ve seen all your movies. Twice. And I’m totally acting like a moron right now, aren’t I? But…” Her smile is so hopeful. “You probably hate it when people ask. But could I please have a picture?”

“Sure,” I say at the exact same time that DJ says “No.”

Ouch. I mean…I know what happened the last time I got caught in a photo with one of the Trevi family. But, geez.

Violet whips out her phone anyway. She stands beside me and aims the selfie cam at us. I smile, sort of, and she takes the shot. Then she turns on her brother. “Okay, this is crazy. I know I need to calm down.”

“You’ve been cray cray for eighteen years, Violet. Why stop now?”

She makes a face at her brother. “You have so much explaining to do. Like, months’ worth.”

They exchange a long glance I can’t quite read. “I know,” he says quietly.

Violet crosses her arms in front of her chest. “And yet you just spent the whole day not answering my questions.”

DJ’s wince is so big it would be visible from space.

“Violet!” Orsen yells from the living room. “Your friends are here!”

“Thanks!” she returns. Then she gives her brother a thump on the chest with her fist. “You are saved by the bell. For now. But after this concert—” She nudges him with her elbow. “—and then after I go to a rave with strangers, and drop ecstasy and get wasted, we’re going to talk.”

“Right after I bail you out of jail,” he deadpans. “Don’t forget that part.”

“Exactly.” She reaches up and musses his hair before turning toward the door. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Call me when it’s time to walk home,” he says, following her. “I’ll come and meet you.”

“Danny, I’m not going to get lost,” she scoffs over her shoulder.

“Just do it, will you? You don’t know this neighborhood.”

“Lianne Challice made it here alive,” she fires back.

Whatever he says next, I don’t hear it. I take off my coat and drape it over a chair. Then I wait in the kitchen for him to reappear, leaning against the refrigerator, wondering what just happened. Maybe it’s juvenile of me, but I’m feeling kind of crushed by how that all went down. If I had siblings who actually spoke to me, I’d be on the phone in a heartbeat, telling them I’d met the most awesome guy…

He reappears a moment later, his face serious. “Sorry, smalls,” he says. “That was…” He sighs. “My sister doesn’t know about my mess, in case that wasn’t obvious. Or that picture, or my dad freaking out about it. So…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“Why doesn’t she know about your case?” That’s the weirdest thing he’s just said. “Your brother does, though, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” He opens the fridge and pulls out a Diet Coke for me. “Vi put a hurting on the soda supply, but I saved you one.”

“Thanks?” I’m still ornery. Still not sure where I stand. And maybe it’s selfish of me to care so much about labels when DJ’s world is half collapsed. He has less space in his life for me than I have for him. I get it. But I’ve never done any of this before, and it stings that it means less to him than it does to me.

“Come on,” he says, ready to change the subject. “Let’s replace somewhere we can read. The living room seems occupied.”

There’s a giggle from the sofa as I follow him out of the kitchen. “Yep.”

“We could always stay in the kitchen,” he says, jerking a thumb toward the tiny table in the corner. “But it’s not very quiet. And there’s my room. You pick.”

“Well…” I clear my throat. “I’d rather not have an audience.”

“Okay,” he agrees. Then he leads the way into his room.

I wait in the doorway while he moves his sister’s flowered duffel to the floor and tosses a copy of Macbeth onto the quilt. I toss its twin beside it, taking care to zip my backpack shut immediately. I had big expectations tonight, and now that my hopes are dashed, I sure don’t want to advertise them. I climb up to sit on the bed, my back to the wall. There’s room for him to sit close to me or far away, and I wait to see what he’ll do.

DJ sits at the head of the bed, which is certainly further away than I’d like. But then he scoops my feet into his lap. “Okay, smalls. What are we reading today?” He grabs a paperback.

“I need to hear Act Five,” I tell him because it’s true. Also, it doesn’t hurt that it’s the last act in the play, which will quickly bring us to the ending. Because hope springs eternal.

“Okay,” DJ says, flipping open the cover.

He’s all business. So I gamely pick up the other book. It’s his copy, but that’s okay. I like seeing which pages he’s dog-eared. His book is more broken-in than I’d expect. Looks like DJ has been studying the Scottish play as much as I have.

“I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report,” DJ begins, reading the part of Lady Macbeth’s doctor.

We settle in. And shortly I read Lady M’s iconic “out, damned spot” speech.

The rhythmic trading of lines soothes me, and I love hearing DJ’s low voice answer back in Shakespeare’s verse. We both relax. And in the fourth scene, DJ even begins to grin.

I enjoy his smile, so I don’t bother to point out that we aren’t exactly reading a happy scene. Then, on the next page, he laughs outright.

“What is it?” I can’t help but ask. “Are you thinking up more Shakespeare porn?”

He eyes me over the edge of his book. “You should talk. Your highlights are hilarious. I mean—they’re no As You Lick It. But still.”

“What highlights?”

He gives me the side eye. Then he flips back a page and passes over my copy of the book. I replace a bright pink line underneath a quote. What wood is this before us? There’s a pink smiley in the margin. When I turn the page, there’s another one: The wood began to move. And finally, Thou comest to use thy tongue.

My groan is loud. “That’s Bella’s handiwork. Not mine.”

“Sure it is,” he chuckles.

“No, really!” I flip through the book and replace several more. I have given suck, and I have done the deed. And, funniest of all, I hear a knocking at the south entry. I snort. When DJ grabs the book to see why, he bursts out laughing. “It’s not me!” I protest. “I swear!”

“I believe you! Almost.”

I give his knee a swat, and he grabs my hand and kisses it. When his eyes meet mine, I replace all the warmth there I’ve been looking for. “I missed you,” I blurt out.

His smile slips away. “I missed you, too. I’m sorry. It’s been a busy week. Lots of calls with the lawyer. And my father.”

Ouch. “Are you okay?”

He tilts his head to the side and sighs. “I’ll be all right. I liked it better when you didn’t know to ask me that.”

I scoot closer to him on the quilt. I want to hug him so badly, but there’s a new sort of distance between us that I don’t know how to bridge. “I care about you. Is that so wrong?” There’s a tremor in my stomach, because I don’t know how much is safe to reveal. Does he even want to know how much I like him?

He leans over, hooking me around the waist and hauling me onto his lap. “I care about you, too,” he says, pushing the hair off my shoulder and kissing my neck. “That’s why I hate dragging you into my disaster.”

My brain goes a little fuzzy, because I’m finally right where I wanted to be. “Maybe it won’t be a disaster.”

“Maybe,” he echoes. But he’s not convinced.

He kisses my neck again, and I close my eyes. Life is just better when DJ is nearby. I wish I could keep him always within arm’s reach. “Hey,” I say as a big hand settles onto my tummy. I could sit like this forever. “My friend Kevin has a movie coming out next month. There’s a big premier in New York. You want to come with me? It will be an over-the-top kind of party. We might have fun.”

“Next month?” he says between kisses. “Sounds like fun, smalls. But I can’t plan that far ahead. You should ask Pepe or someone who knows they’ll be around.”

My heart teeters, and just when things were going so well. “I don’t want to go with Pepe. If you’re not available, I’m not going at all.”

DJ goes very still. But I plunge ahead anyway.

“I mean… You’ll still be alive next month. So you could plan ahead. If you wanted to.” DJ’s from Long Island. Even if he’s left Harkness—God forbid—it’s just a commuter train ride into the city.

In other words, DJ and I are still possible even if he’s kicked out of school.

I hadn’t meant to bring that up, but there it is. And now I forget to breathe while I wait for him to speak.

Before answering, he removes his hand from my back. “When is it?”

Exhale. “I’ll look it up and text you the date.”

“Okay.”

We sit still for a bit. He doesn’t reach for his copy of the book, and neither do I. It’s a perfect quiet moment. Until I wreck it. “I read about something, and I thought you’d replace it interesting.”

“What?” He nuzzles the back of my neck with his nose.

“One of the largest sororities in the country is backing this piece of legislation which would make it illegal for colleges to adjudicate rape cases. Colleges aren’t very good at it, and people are starting to get pissed off.”

He sighs. “Et tu, smalls?”

I shift a bit in his lap so I can see his face. “Seems kind of important. There are women as well as men who think that colleges aren’t providing justice. I read about a case where a rape case was assigned to a faculty member who’d just landed on the disciplinary committee. He was an entomologist.”

DJ slides me off his lap, setting me down on the mattress beside him. Then he bends his knees up toward his chest. “I’ve heard these stories. And I absolutely want my chance to tell the college that they’ve fucked up my case. But I am not comfortable telling them how to run the place.”

“Why not? You know better than anybody they aren’t getting the job done.”

DJ tips his head back against the wall, and I panic, realizing that I’ve made him angry. “Nobody wants to hear that from me,” he says tightly.

“They should.”

“No,” he says more forcefully. “You of all people should be able to understand how twisted it would look.” He holds up two hands, as if hanging a banner. “White guy from the suburbs tells Harkness College how a rape case should be handled.” He shakes his head. “They’ll look at me and see a guy who’s found a new way to get away with it.”

“You are very trustworthy,” I say in a shaky voice. But DJ is probably right. If his case hit the media, all the usual fun rules would apply. He’d be clickbait for sure.

DJ turns his head to look at me with irritation in his eyes. “It’s not that easy, Lianne.”

But I can’t stop myself from pushing. “What if…”

“Stop,” he says. “Maybe I can’t be one of your projects.”

“What can you be, then?” The words slip out before I can take them back.

His mouth opens and then closes. “You think it’s even up to me? What I want and what I can have aren’t even in the same time zone.”

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. I’ve effed up the entire evening by shooting off my big mouth. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

He hugs his knees with the same arms that should be hugging me. “It’s not your fault, smalls. None of this is. We have really shitty timing, is all.”

There’s more silence, which I fill by worrying. “What’s supposed to happen next, anyway?”

“My lawyer wants me to sue the college, and I’m supposed to decide by next week. But I’m really not comfortable being some kind of crusader against the way they’re allowed to handle sexual assault. I mean—right this second my sister and her doofus friends are painting the campus red. And I’m sitting here hoping that a couple of meatheads don’t try to take advantage of them. And, Jesus, then there’s Georgia…” He lets the sentence die.

“What about her?” I’d forgotten that story he’d told me about Leo’s ex.

DJ shakes his head. “I just wish I knew what she’d make of this whole mess. The lawsuit. The politics.”

“Then why don’t you ask her? She might really be able to help you.” He’d said they were once close…

“Nah,” he says, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t want to trouble her with my bullshit.”

“DJ!” It comes out as a gasp. “It’s not bullshit. It’s your life we’re talking about here.” And I’m part of that life, or at least I wish I was. But he’s not going to look at it that way, no matter how badly I wish he would.

Am I being selfish? Am I being crazy? I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want him. And the flat look on his face right now makes me want to scream. So I begin evacuation procedures. I grab my copy of the play and scramble off the bed. “You’re not Macbeth,” I whisper. “But you play him so well.”

His head snaps back, actually thudding against the wall behind him. “That’s easy for you to say.” And now I know I’ve overstepped, because his face flushes with anger. “But my parents look at me and wonder if I raped someone. My brother looks at me and sees Georgia’s attacker. The college treats me like a leper. The whole world thinks you fart glitter, babe. Not sure you can understand.”

My blood pressure doubling, I grab my backpack off the floor, toss it on my shoulder, then look at DJ.

The dark eyes that look back at me are pained. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “That was uncalled for.”

I can’t even respond, because then he’ll be able to hear how much those words hurt me. Instead, I turn the doorknob and slip out of his room.

He doesn’t call me back.

Closing his bedroom door behind me, I lurch forward then halt as peals of laughter come from the living room. There’s no way I’m passing through there. My coat is still in the kitchen, so I go in and grab it off the chair. Then I sneak out the back door.

It’s a cold, damp night, but I trot away from the house without even stopping to put on my coat.

He’s under too much pressure, I tell myself. Anyone would snap. But I’d thought he was the only one at Harkness who didn’t think of me as a spoiled brat. Now I know he does.

I’m halfway home before I realize the mistake I made when we argued. I’d said it. I actually said it out loud—the Scottish play’s title character’s name. The ill-fated king who is vanquished in Act Five. Done in by fate.

God damn it. God damn everything.